Invisibilis Spiritus; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters
“It was the dead of night. It was the time in the night when innocent babes began their impetuous cries for their mother’s teat. It was the time of night when scoundrels were being thrown from taverns, when vermin cut purses, and when savages slit throats. It was the time of night when, after the candles were out, and the moon’s light had no hole to peak through, your hand would disappear before your very face. It was the absolute dead of night.
First, there were only cries. It began tersely and without much-ado, in a small farmhouse down the road from the town. Soon all the cries were gone and everyone could pretend like they never heard it. Until there was another cry, one of warning. And it was full of fear and a childlike sense of helplessness. A young boy, hardly dressed, fell into a mud puddle as he threw himself from the dark backdrop of the world outside the castle walls, and into the town center. I saw him because I was hooked into a stockade, my head to be the Governor’s by sunrise.
The boy bawled for a while as he cradled himself in the empty market square, huddled against a brick well. In moments his cries would be only wishful memories for me and everyone else who lived through the coming assault. There was a single high-pitched scream which fell from the mountain near the town and washed over it like a tsunami of fear. I shuddered in my stockade home. That was the last warning anyone had of the terror to come, not that it was ever meant to be one.
I heard it’s wings expand over the church behind me, like scaled masts, and then it’s telling inhale. I couldn’t hear it’s exhale, as the ground before me, along with the boy, was drenched in a liquid fire. Stalls caught flame along with an inn which sat beside the market square. The heat over my head was like nothing I’d ever felt before in my life. The guard which was posted to watch me began running for the castle, just to the north of the church. That was when the beast behind me, now done with it’s initial blast of flames, settled itself among the ancient stonework of the church. I got to work on freeing myself with the utmost haste. I could hear the magnificent lungs of the beast suck in, and let out air with a fearsome growl. It’s claws worked to allow it a comfortable perch on the church roof. My lockpick, which I’d taken incredible pains to hide, worked, and I was free. I stumbled forward to the half-emblazed market square and turned, my curiosity winning against my better senses.
It was the dead of night, as I say, and the moon was half away. I could only see the slightest of details, but I could say a few important notes. There were spines all about his body, along his limbs and back, and his scales were impossibly reflective, so much so that I could not describe it with such innocuous vernacular. The beast dwarfed the cathedral by half it’s height, and it crushed the holy roof under it’s weight. And I, nearly spellstopped, managed to dive into the stone well behind me as the creature began it’s fiery judgment all over again. I hid in the murky oubliette for the rest of the night as the demon above laid waste to the town I’d known since childhood. I could sometimes see the leathery flying form if it’d glide just overhead.
Despite the terrified screams and frightened sobs above I might have been able to convince myself that there was some kind of a festival going on.”
-Translated from an account given by Peter Bolivar, 1666
This is a story of magical elements in a real world. A story of mystics, madmen, oracles, monsters, and Wizards; of racism, and slavery, politics, and war, corruption, and creation. This story begins with the terrifying events of mythic legend, a town scorched black by the fires of a dragon. But it is set in the real world, it is surrounded by real events, and real people, and
real-istic heroes. It begins in the town of Sintra, overlooked by the beautiful Sintra Mountains in Portugal, circa 1666. You are a person currently living in this small, partly coastal city on the day after the horrific events took place. From barmaid to banker, and explorer to saint, all who survived did so by seeking refuge in the mostly intact castle or barely intact monastery.
Those in power, who can culminate, fabricate, and discard with history in the most lethal of whims, seek a way to rid the world of the Dragon, and plunder any treasure that may accompany the beast into his dreams. It is to the courts dismay that on the docket to be killed the very next day is a man purporting to be the “Dread Captain Scar”, a mythical pirate and monster-killer. They free him, ask that he form a team of Monster Hunters, and with the blessings of the church, go into Morocco, where the Dragon’s lair is said to be, and end the creatures ungodly life. You are among the potential hunters. You may be strong or weak, smart or dull, Christian or Muslim or Pagan or Heathen; a rogue, an explorer, a monk, a historian, a scholar, or a prostitute. Whatever your skill set or affiliation, you will be chosen to attend this journey, chosen to undertake this most righteous of paths... this is righteous, isn’t it?
What the unwary voyagers of this expedition don’t know, and what they could never know, is that they are about to enter a world of fantasy. A world only ever spoken of in fairytales. The world that they knew to exist will have its ramparts blasted open, and the light of the truth may blind whoever dares step through the crumbled wreckage of the lies which kept them hostage there.
For right now, this is just an interest check. I’d like to see how much interest it can garner. But suffice it to say that I have plenty planned for this RP, and it goes far past the dragon. I will leave a CS for everyone’s consideration, and so that when we start the OOC we can jump in ASAP.
I expect Advanced level writing obviously, but I am very lax in terms of posting consistency and things like that. Needless to say, you should have a very basic idea of the timeline we are working with. It’s all set on earth so normal history applies. Most important, however, is that you remain vocal. I’d prefer it if people didn’t just disappear without saying a word.
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