Archangel89

⇜ Deicide ⇝ [Dark Fantasy Isekai]

Ah," I muse, tilting my head as her words ripple through the air, her voice woven with a sweetness that belies her barbed tongue. "And yet, it is your own voice that carries, is it not? A symphony of mockery—practiced, I would wager. How many have tasted the sharpness of your words before me?"

My gaze lingers, tracing the gleam of her teeth as I step forward. The weight of her insult is a curious thing. Does she believe it will unsettle me? Amuse me? Perhaps.

"Theatrics? No, dear interlocutor, I speak as I am. What need have I to pretend? Every syllable, every utterance, is but the echo of truths I have witnessed. Though I must confess” I offer a faint, sardonic smile, the corner of my lip curving with the ghost of amusement. ” It is often the most bitter of souls that scoff at the elaborate while reveling in their own simplicity."

The air feels heavier now, as though the remnants of past alchemical fumes still cling to my bones. I glanced at the spearmen, their discomfort visible. Fear, anticipation—emotions I know well. But her? She is curious. One thing I shall not forget.

"And you?" My voice lowers, something between curiosity and challenge. "Do you speak merely to provoke, or is there a purpose within your words? I would hear it, if so."

"There is weight in her gaze, a condescension that amuses more than it wounds. Let her mock if she must. My sins are my own, and no stranger's scorn can outmatch the voices that already echo within. Let her think herself victorious in this exchange — I have faced the ruin of my own making, and such petty words are but a breeze against the tempest."

As the other arrive and announce themselves my eyes are drawn to the old woman, her undeniable presence is one that commanded attention from friend and foe alike. Her stern warning to the other arrivals” was one that even shook my own bones, and I am not one to be so easily shaken. As she performed her clear and undisputed magic, I could not help but ponder on the curiosities of this world and the arcane arts; were they any different from the life from which I was taken? Something that she said in her introduction of the ashen ruins struck me and I could not help but question,

” Gods? There are actual gods here! How interesting their abilities live up to their title…” , gesturing to the wasteland we stood in, ” tell me more about these gods are they something accessible to us who wander the mortal plane?

⇜ Deicide ⇝ [Dark Fantasy Isekai]

The air is thick with the ghosts of fire and rot, the acrid sting of charred remains clinging to my form like a shroud of penitence. I do not belong here—yet I do.

The figures before me are twisted echoes of survival, their bodies caked in soot, their eyes hollow pools that reflect the embers of a world undone. I see it in them: the instinct to survive at all costs, the quiet suspicion that coils like a viper beneath their ribs. They do not trust me. Nor should they.

A tremor runs through my fingers—an old habit, the muscle memory of hands that once knew only creation. It is an irony that would amuse me, were I still capable of laughter. Once, I sought to unravel the mysteries of transmutation, to elevate mankind beyond the limitations of flesh and time. I was... ambitious. Too ambitious. And now, I stand among these strangers, a revenant bound by the sins of my past, cast into a realm that does not know my name, but will come to know my work.

The sky burns above us, and I wonder if it, too, remembers the folly of alchemists.

Stepping forward, I regard them, my gaze flitting over their wary stances, the glint of steel held with weary hands. "You expect a monster,", I say at last, voice rasping with the weight of ages."Perhaps you are right. But if survival is your aim, know this—I do not break, I do not falter, and I do not waste what can be reforged."

I let the words settle, let them see the unyielding certainty in my stance. If they seek salvation, then I shall mold it. If they seek ruin, then I shall study the remnants of their fall.

The choice is theirs.

⇜ Deicide ⇝ [Dark Fantasy Isekai]

The Fallen Alchemist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Fallen Alchemist

Age of Death: — 29
Gender: — Male
Race: — Forsaken Revenant (Once Human, now something... else)
Psychology: — A mind frayed between genius and madness. Once an ambitious alchemist devoted to unlocking the secrets of transmutation, his obsession led him down a path of irreversible ruin. Now, in this new world, he struggles against the echoes of his past failures, torn between seeking redemption and indulging in the cold logic of experimentation. He is meticulous, his mind a labyrinth of equations and forgotten rituals, yet plagued by intrusive visions of those he destroyed. His hands tremble when idle, as if still mixing the alchemical catalysts of his past sins.

---

⑇⑉ What You Remember ⑉⑈

The Whispering Cauldron
The fumes were intoxicating, swirling in iridescent hues above the village square. Their bodies had contorted first—limbs snapping, skin peeling as their flesh rebelled against them. Their screams rang through the night, but you did not hear them. You were lost in the alchemy, in the equations scrawled across your mind. Perfection was within reach, you were certain. But then, silence. When you looked up, your people were not people anymore—only things, grotesque beings bound by pulsing sinew and raw agony.

⑴Alchemical Knowledge —Despite the circumstances that led him to this place it would seem that his knowledge of alchemy followed him. He still retains the basic knowledge of what once consumed the life he left behind.
⑵ Cold Rationality—A mind that prioritizes logic above morality, allowing you to make the necessary choices where others may falter.

---

⑇⑉ What You Don’t ⑉⑈

The Alchemist’s Folly
You should have died. You welcomed death. The blaze that consumed your village should have taken you, too. But something—someone—pulled you free. You do not recall their face, only the feeling of weightlessness, the wrenching sensation of being ripped from the ruin of your own making. The sky was wrong when you awoke. The air was thick with something unnatural. You were no longer in your world.

A mark on your forearm appeared when you awoke, its blackened veins pulsing with something deep, something alien. It reminds you that you do not belong here, that something beyond comprehension has marked you for its own purpose. But you do not remember why. Not yet.
[Tvegxb•]

⇜ Deicide ⇝ [Dark Fantasy Isekai]

Oh cool, also I just realized that my tagged post to you gave off mild passive aggressive shade lol. Sorry in advanced and thanks for the acceptance.

⇜ Deicide ⇝ [Dark Fantasy Isekai]

@Redacted I guess that I didnt make the cut lol, Ill wait in the wings till an opening occurs then.

⇜ Deicide ⇝ [Dark Fantasy Isekai]

No prob I enjoy the dark fantasy genre and I realized that I may have jumped the gun. I’ll fix it later and send the revised sheet back

⇜ Deicide ⇝ [Dark Fantasy Isekai]

Here’s my hat to throw in, I look back and realize that it may be a bit off but let me know if any changes need to be made and I’ll fix it.

EDIT: Ok I fixed a couple of things, shaved down the sheet to fit the sheet and reworked his ability’s to be more in line with the basics
@Redacted

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Fallen Alchemist

Age of Death: — 29
Gender: — Male
Race: — Forsaken Revenant (Once Human, now something... else)
Psychology: — A mind frayed between genius and madness. Once an ambitious alchemist devoted to unlocking the secrets of transmutation, his obsession led him down a path of irreversible ruin. Now, in this new world, he struggles against the echoes of his past failures, torn between seeking redemption and indulging in the cold logic of experimentation. He is meticulous, his mind a labyrinth of equations and forgotten rituals, yet plagued by intrusive visions of those he destroyed. His hands tremble when idle, as if still mixing the alchemical catalysts of his past sins.

---

⑇⑉ What You Remember ⑉⑈

The Whispering Cauldron
The fumes were intoxicating, swirling in iridescent hues above the village square. Their bodies had contorted first—limbs snapping, skin peeling as their flesh rebelled against them. Their screams rang through the night, but you did not hear them. You were lost in the alchemy, in the equations scrawled across your mind. Perfection was within reach, you were certain. But then, silence. When you looked up, your people were not people anymore—only things, grotesque beings bound by pulsing sinew and raw agony.

⑴Alchemical Knowledge —Despite the circumstances that led him to this place it would seem that his knowledge of alchemy followed him. He still retains the basic knowledge of what once consumed the life he left behind.
⑵ Cold Rationality—A mind that prioritizes logic above morality, allowing you to make the necessary choices where others may falter.

---

⑇⑉ What You Don’t ⑉⑈

The Alchemist’s Folly
You should have died. You welcomed death. The blaze that consumed your village should have taken you, too. But something—someone—pulled you free. You do not recall their face, only the feeling of weightlessness, the wrenching sensation of being ripped from the ruin of your own making. The sky was wrong when you awoke. The air was thick with something unnatural. You were no longer in your world.

A mark on your forearm appeared when you awoke, its blackened veins pulsing with something deep, something alien. It reminds you that you do not belong here, that something beyond comprehension has marked you for its own purpose. But you do not remember why. Not yet.

Dark Fantasy Isekai

Hey there I have to say that Im interested in the concept, is the game still accepting cause I can have a character up fairly quickly

One Piece: The Devil's Due (Always Accepting!)

I would like to throw my hat in the ring to join the game lol.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Character Description

Name: Viktor Ulrich
Gender:Male
Age: 58
Nationality: German
Appearance:

appearance

Personal Effects: A change of clothes, several books (prayer, exorcism rites, demonic identification etc.) 3 vials of blessed water and 3 of blessed oil, 1 Webly Mk V revolver and enough bullets for 1 reload, a journal of his own study/notes.

---

Background:

What is your job Archbishop of Munich
Backstory: Born in 1875 to a moderate family in the German countryside, Viktor was the oldest of three children. This led him to forcibly adopt a parental mentality and aided in the care of his younger brothers. The family, being neither vastly poor or wealthy, did their best and led mostly normal lives. Viktor was always drawn to the church as he said that it brought him a sense of peace in his life and eventually, when he came of age, took the first steps into the priesthood at the age of twelve. If life had continued this way, life would have been peaceful and that is where his story would have ended.

At the age of thirty eight, as an established priest, the Great War broke out and chaos erupted in the country. Ever the father-figure at heart, Viktor’s heart grew troubled at the thought of his countrymen in a great battlefield without the Lord’s presence and before the Archdiocese had called for volunteers to go and spread the gospel in such forsaken lands he stood at the front of the line willing to go. His family, very much troubled by his decision, reluctantly sent him off with the gift of a brand new revolver. War was an entirely different affair than anything that Viktor had ever experienced. As he took up his position as a military chaplain and aided the medical staff in their duties the untold amount of death and serious injuries slowly took their toil on the priest as he did the best he could to give the peace of Christ to the wounded and dying.

For four years he toiled among the back lines burying countless young men and gave counsel to those that remained. One night a field camp after burying yet another soldier in the wee hours of the morning came a moment that would change his life forever. As he came around the corner at the far end of camp, a sharp metal gleam caught his eyes in the brush. As he turned to face the brush the horrifying sight of a mangled soldier covered in viscera with a twisted and contorted face stare back at him. In a panic Viktor reached for the pistol at his side and when he turned back the creature was in his face and in garbled German it spoke;

”WHERES YOUR FAITH FATHER??”

As soon as it had breached his space, the thing was gone. It wasn’t long after that incident that the war ended and Viktor returned to his parish. That night in the field shook him to the core and for the next two years it haunted him until a meeting with another bishop that he told another soul. The response of demon attack was something he hadn’t expected. With this new information Viktor went on a learning spree and began the self taught route of an exorcist.