Blessed Blight

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

Matthias sat alone in the dimly lit tavern, concealed beneath the shadows of a corner table. Gingerly, he sipped of a viscous, ruby liquid in a crystal chalice clutched between his steely fingers, keen, red eyes quietly observing the few patrons remaining. Long, damp strands of crimson hair clung to his sullen face, neatly framing his stern, angular features, sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin ending in a meticulously trimmed goatee. Over his broad shoulders was draped a long black cloak, barely covering a modest, charcoal Victorian suit with a frilled, white button shirt and an elegant red cravat tied around his neck...

@Vlad Tepes

The tea had grown cold, evident by the absent swirls of steam. She could still smell the tiny, dried-out, white flowers, which had been steeping for well over an hour. And there was still a hint of sweetness from the honey. But the warmth was gone, so the perfume lost much of its potency even to her heightened senses. Now and then she would stir the small golden spoon in circles inside the rim of the cup to reawaken the fragrance.

Yes, it had been an hour since she entered the tavern hoping to find some sign of him. Proof of his existence in this strange, new land -- proof of the life she had lived, of the world she had destroyed. But there was nothing. Not so much as a hint of his smell -- the brimstone, the leather, the spice of his skin. And as that hope dwindled and died away, she began to ponder the possibility of seeing any familiar face at all.

No -- everything had changed. In the span of a few months, the world had turned on its head, and the already unfamiliar terrain shifted and transformed like a distant mirage.

Rounded hips shifted forward until she was sitting on the edge of her seat. Her booted feet settled on the floor, legs mostly straight to make up for the height of the stool. This position allowed her slender fingers to slip into the pockets of her skin-tight breeches -- nearly an impossible task.

She was fishing for something in that pocket of hers, just as one of the few patrons that inhabited the tavern made his way to the bar. Her golden gaze narrowed, and by way of a side glance, she saw the creature that approached. Exquisitely elegant in his attire, and rather curious-looking with that ridiculous facial hair, Gabriela took measure of his presence as he whispered an order to the bartender and then claimed a seat -- besides her own.

Ice-cold fingers touched the edge of a cool coin, and with a wiggle of her digits, she freed the small treasure from its tight confinement. It was a slender silver coin, with the depiction of some unknown monarch upon it -- an unfortunate-looking man. She knew so little about the governing forces of this world and much less about its history. But she had figured out the currency system and made sure to get ahold of enough coins to keep herself out of trouble.

The coin was set upon the bartop, beside her untouched cup of tea.

“It’s a bit much,” she said out loud, tilting her head toward him, but not turning to look at him directly. A flick of her fingers pushed aside a strand of dark hair, chocolate-brown in color, and in this dim light, nearly black. It was her profile that the man would see if he turned to regard her voice. And it was a glorious sight, a straight and narrow nose, plump lips, a noble and thoughtful brow, with eyebrows that seemed perpetually pinched in concern. And then those eyes -- golden and distant, as she looked straight ahead.

“You’re cloak,” she finally went on, after a meaningful pause, “...you’re cloak is a bit much.”

Her brows lifted, and she at last deemed him worthy enough to look at.

She drank in the sight of him.

“Curious creature indeed,” she said, mostly to herself, before moving to leave.

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

Many months later...

Gabriela took a seat at the bar, pulling a stool out with her foot and slipping onto the polished wooden seat. Her weight settled, the slight heels on her boots hooking along the crisscrossing support bands of the stool, and she leaned forward until her elbows were on the polished bartop.

Golden eyes peered from left to right, and then straight ahead at the mirror that was mostly hidden behind a collection of liquor bottles -- of all shapes and sizes. She could just barely make out her reflection, a dim and foggy thing these days. Still, for a moment she was caught by the piercing weight of molten gold irises and copper-colored lightning strikes across the sunset orbs. But she could only hold her own stare for so long before looking away, down to her gathered hands.

It was a slow night.

She felt this wasn’t the first slow night -- the place looked practically abandoned. And, although the small staff that kept the tavern operational seemed to work even with a lack of patrons diligently, there were signs of neglect. For example, the dust in the corners of the room wafting through the air along with the perfume of melted candlewax and the soot from the large hearth at the center of the room. There were cobwebs as well, hanging like tattered pieces of thin fabric high up the rafters.

Small oversights, probably, totally unnoticeable to most.

“What can I get you?” asked the man behind the bar. He seemed neither gladdened nor annoyed by her presence. It was a curt, professional, and expected question.

What could he get her… Gabriela wondered.

“A cup of tea,” she said softly, her eyes shifting from the tired brown gaze that regarded her expectantly. She stared at her hands again and tried to ignore how thin the man’s lips were, how discolored his mustache was around the corner of his mouth -- yellowish, while the rest of it was white as snow. “...honey, a slice of lemon -- if you have it.”

“We ain’t got lemons, I am afraid.”

He was already collecting a small metal teapot from under the bar, and filling it with boiling water that he seemed to have on tap somewhere. She didn’t notice or care where it came from. She only glanced for a moment before going back to study her glass-like fingernails. They looked as if they carried a coat of polish, but that wasn’t the case. Her nails were hard, like stone, and they had a gloss to them as if they were made of crystal. It was one of those uncanny things -- one of those oddly beautiful details. And once she felt the weight of the bartender's eyes on her hands, which she had called attention to by staring at so intently, she drew her hands back under the bartop and held them in her lap.

“That’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Can I get you anything else?” the man asked as he set the metal teapot before Gabriela, along with a small white porcelain cup upon a small saucer, and besides that, a small honey jar with a golden spoon.

“This is fine for now, thank you,” she smiled and he returned the gesture before walking to the other end of the bar. She watched him go -- a glimmer of longing in the gold of her eyes before she turned to the task at hand. The theatrics of pretending to be human. The great production of preparing tea -- gathering the small fabric bag, seeping it, gathering a spoonful of honey, dropping it into her cup, and pouring the hot, discolored tea water over it until it melted away.

Chamomile.

The smell was a comfort, even if the taste never would be.

The Spiders Web

Brad was a talker. Lucky for him, his voice was not unpleasant. She didn’t mind listening, because it certainly didn’t seem like he was interested in a conversation with her. Sure, he turned to look at her every now and then. Mostly, it seemed, to make sure she was listening. And every time he landed his gaze upon her she was looking right back at him, a smile on her face. It was better if she didn’t have to talk -- better if she didn’t have to try and make up small talk.

They weren’t too far into the trail before Brad announced the name of the trail.

“Spider Lake Trailhead…Sounds ominous.”

She gladly accepted his offer of peanuts and raisins.

“It isn’t really,” she said, chewing on the bit of trail mix he’d shared. She figured they would find a place to rest in an hour or so, and she could eat some of her snacks there. “It’s called that because…well, it sort of looks like a spider from an aerial view. The big main body, and then several protruding branches -- little creeks and such.”

Eva shrugged a bit and hooked her thumbs into the straps of her backpack, pulling on them to ease some of the tension on her shoulders. She had packed light, but she wasn’t accustomed to hiking, and walking with gear on her back was something she hadn’t done since her high school days.

“Onimous,” Brad repeated.

She looked at him with pinched brows.

“Sounds like a good band name?”

She wondered if he was really asking -- if he was, she’d tell him that no, it did not sound like a good band name. But he wasn’t really asking. He just kept talking.

“Jack thinks my violin is a perfect piece for our folk rock image.”

She noticed he had eaten an M&M and frowned internally at the fact that he had not given her any chocolate. Turning to stare straight ahead, she kept walking, as the trail began to climb to a gentle incline. But the ground was wet, and there were smooth, mossy stones along the path which were far more slippery than they appeared

“Not that I like to define my band, that is. It’s more like ‘rock folk’ meets ‘folk rock’, Omina meets Beethoven meets Ozzy Osbourn, and -- Shit.”
Brad came to a sudden stop and the sound of his fingers making a sharp and hard snap caused her to stop as well, and turn. She lost her footing in that moment and felt her heel slide forward causing her to lose all sense of balance. And with her thumbs hooked into her backpack, she didn’t have time to reach out and catch herself.

Eva landed on her ass just as Brad lamented that he had not brought bacon.

The Spiders Web

She heard him coming from a mile away. The sound of his motorcycle’s engine was so out of place amidst the sacred sounds of the wilderness. It was loud, mechanical, and ugly -- it made her turn her head in the direction of its path. And then, much to her dismay, the loud and clamorous sound turned a corner and headed directly toward her. Never, in all of her life, had she looked favorably upon motorcycles. She thought they were dangerous and that only those people who did not value their lives sought to use them as a regular means of transportation.

It was hard to hide the negative judgment she felt -- more so when the bike came at a standstill not but ten feet away from her. He had waved, to the man on the bike, but she had not returned the gesture. In fact, she had not moved, not even to turn her body, for it had been sufficient to turn her head upon the pillar of her neck. It was a pretty neck, long and pale, and graceful even when mostly hidden in the high neckline of her shirt and the pulled-up collar of her jacket.

The man made a whole spectacle of hitting the kickstand and throwing one wide leg off of the vehicle he had been straddling. And while he glanced, sideways, in her direction, he turned away to focus on his tasks.

It did something to dispel her anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in such a remote location with a complete stranger -- especially one who was unhinged enough to ride a motorcycle. But the man hardly seemed interested in her existence, and that soothed away some of her concerns. However, she remembered that show on Ted Bundy she had seen. The sick-fuck had pretended to have some broken limb, an arm or a leg perhaps, all for the sake of appearing more sympathetic and less dangerous.

No, it was best that she didn’t drop her guard.

She kept her body turned toward him, but specifically, toward the entrance to the trailhead. Her body language shifted, her arms came and crossed under her chest, and she made a very open show of glancing down at her watch again, making it abundantly clear that she was waiting for someone -- and that someone was expecting to find her here.

“There is a lot more to this park than this lot, you know.”

In the same way that he had gone out of his way to ignore her existence, she had very much done the same and therefore was rather caught off guard by his sudden boldness.

Arched brows, perfectly manicured, frowned. But she remembered, it was best not to be confrontational. She was alone with a strange man in the middle of an empty parking lot that led to one of the most desolate lakes in the entire state of Washington. Even if she didn’t want to, for the sake of her own safety, she would have to play nice.

“Oh yeah? I would have never guessed.”

She flashed a smile -- a friendly expression, but not too friendly.

“I mean, I am here with all this hiking gear…”

She wasn’t entirely sure where she was going with her line of commentary. Eva was always a little bit awkward.

And then there was another sound, and for a moment she turned her gaze from the man kneeling not all that far from where she stood, and back to the opening drive of the parking lot. Another vehicle was coming.

She saw the flash of red through the trees as the Mustang came at a dangerous gallop around the corner, sending gravel raining into the tree line. Her expression soured somewhat -- her eyes narrowing. With Brad’s arrival came the sound of new machinery, his car, but also music. The rich and exciting sound of it filled the small clearing.

It was difficult to stay annoyed at him. He was so much like a young boy -- happy, excitable, and just a ray of sunshine. The complete opposite of her. He’d be good for her if she could just let him in.

He parked and came out of his car, and she could nearly envision him as a golden retriever.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Brad,” she answered, “I nearly got started without you…” Her attempt to tease sounded way more serious than it should have. She immediately regretted saying it and feared that things were starting on the wrong foot.

“Did you have breakfast?"

She shook her head.

“I had some peanut butter toast. Burnt it.”

Eva laughed, she couldn’t help it -- her voice, for the first time, sounded light and pretty.

“Kinda rushin’ out this mornin’. I got this Slim Jim though. Sorry, buddy.”

Brad offered half to her, but she declined with a shake of her head. She looked over her shoulder at Ethan, who appeared to still be busy fixing something in his backpack.

“I prefer for my meat to be real, thank you very much.”

“We ready?”

Eva opened the back door to her silver-colored Land Cruiser -- a tank of a car, a gift from her father. It was used, but they just didn’t make the vehicle anymore. She adored it. She reached into the back seat pulled her backpack out and swung it over her shoulder.

“I am ready,” she replied, stealing a glance at Ethan as she and Brad began their trek.

She made sure to lock her car door.

The Spiders Web

Eva glanced up and watched how the mist swirled along the distant tree-tops, like some creamy and delicious concoction -- as if it were cotton candy the color of wet sugar. She frowned and felt the rumbling in her stomach as the seemingly vast emptiness of her hunger reminded her that she was an idiot for skipping breakfast, and also for scheduling this date so early in the morning. Of course, she checked her wristwatch for what felt like the hundredth time. The tiny golden hand, measuring seconds, ticked along gracefully over a mother-of-pearl watch face.

“Tick-tock…” she said aloud, before turning to glance back at the empty parking lot.

Her date hadn’t arrived yet.

He was fifteen minutes late.

It wasn’t so bad, given the unique location of this romantic rendezvous. However, she had her doubts about her gentleman friend’s intention to actually follow through with this outing. During their last date, in a more traditional urban setting, she had been awkward and quiet. But it wasn't for lack of interest. Her mind was heavy with troubles. Lately, all she seemed capable of doing was worrying and fretting over her family’s failing estate.

“If he’s not here in fifteen minutes…” She didn’t want to finish the out-loud thought, but she knew that if she didn’t say it -- if she didn’t breathe her conviction into the chill morning air -- then she would never follow through.

The thought carried her through a cold breeze that blew out from the trees at the edge of the trailhead. She marveled at the fact that the forest seemed colder than the wide, open clearing of the parking lot. Whatever the case, it made her pull her black, waterproof jacket a little bit tighter around her shoulders, pulling at the collar and hood until half her face disappeared and she didn’t see her breath anymore.

The Spiders Web

Character Sheet Outline

Character Name: Eva

Character Type: Victim

Appearance:



Gender: Female

Height: 5'4

Eye Color: Honey Brown

Distinctive Features: Has a two-inch scar along her right inner thigh from where she nearly impaled herself on a sharp stick when she was a child.

Background:

[Provide a brief backstory for your character, including their occupation, hometown, and any relevant personal history]
Personality:

[Describe your character's personality traits, strengths, weaknesses, and any quirks or habits]

Skills and Abilities: Relentless and tenacious, while in and of themselves, these traits are not skills or abilities, they go a long way in her acquisition of skills and abilities she does not have. She has some medical experience.

Equipment:

-Backpack
-Small first aid kit
-compass
-cellphone
-a 24-ounce bottle of water
-pocket knife, which she struggles to open
-thick waterproof jacket
-hiking boots
-two energy bars, a small bag of pistachios, and an apple

Character Goals: To survive!

Role in the Story:

A random little hiker in a creepy forest. She had to come up with a third date idea and felt that going on an early morning hike would be unique and interesting. However, she has very little experience in the wilderness and is hoping for something easy and managable.

The Spiders Web

Character Sheet Outline

Character Name:

[Provide your character's name]
Character Type:

[Choose one: Villain, Victim, Survivor]
Appearance:

[Describe your character's physical appearance, including age, gender, height, build, hair color, and any distinctive features]
Background:

[Provide a brief backstory for your character, including their occupation, hometown, and any relevant personal history]
Personality:

[Describe your character's personality traits, strengths, weaknesses, and any quirks or habits]
Skills and Abilities:

>List any skills, talents, or abilities your character possesses that might be relevant in this setting]
Equipment:

[Detail any items, tools, or weapons your character carries with them]
Character Goals:

[Outline your character's primary goals or motivations for being in the forest]
Role in the Story:

[Explain how your character fits into the overarching narrative and their initial role in the story]
Relationships:

[Describe any pre-existing relationships or connections your character may have with other characters in the role-play]
Character Development:

[Briefly mention any character development goals or potential changes your character may undergo during the story]
Additional Notes:

[Include any other relevant information or details about your character]
Feel free to use this outline to create your character for the role-play, and you can add or modify sections as needed to suit your storytelling needs.

The Spiders Web

Description of the Forest:
The National Forest of Olympia is hauntingly beautiful, especially during the eerie embrace of autumn. Tall and gnarled trees, predominantly Douglas firs and redwoods, dominate the landscape, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers to claw at the mist that blankets the forest floor. A perpetual gloom hangs in the air, marring the beauty of nature, and shrouding everything in a ghostly haze. The leaves, in various shades of crimson and gold, rustle with an unsettling whisper, as if sharing secrets known only to the trees and the darkness.

Spider Lake Trailhead:
This setting opens at the baleful Spider Lake Trailhead, a weather-worn sign marking the boundary between the mundane world and the mysterious woods beyond. The path ahead is narrow at points, and winding through towering trees that filter the feeble autumn sunlight into a soft, diffused glow. The air is heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying foliage, and the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending mosaic of slick rocks, muddy patches, and springy moss.

The Mist:
The mist appears to be a living entity here, forever swirling and moving around tree trunks and through the thick underbrush. Although it may appear all encompassing, there are times and locations where it is completely absent. But when it is present, It carries with it the scent of fertile earth and decomposition. Visibility is reduced to a few feet, making it easy for dangers to lurk unseen.

The Creatures:
Within the dense foliage and hidden hollows, creatures of the forest stir. Some are remnants of folklore brought to life - shadowy figures that dart between trees or eyes that glow ominously in the dark. Others are more tangible threats, like the elusive mountain lions and packs of wolves that roam these woods, their hunger unquenched by their natural prey.

The Killers:
Amidst the natural dangers, human-made horrors also lurk. The forest has a dark history, stained with tales of disappearances and unsolved mysteries. Tales of deranged hunters, dangerous hermits, and bloodthirsty cults have left their marks on this seemingly beautiful landscape. Dilapidated cabins, their windows shattered and doors unhinged, stand as chilling monuments to the forest's dark past. Symbols and cryptic sigils etched into tree bark hint at sinister rituals long abandoned but not forgotten.

Role-Play Mechanics:
-Players must choose to play as a villain/creature, a victim, or a survivor when they join the role-play.
-Those who choose to play victims must be willing to accept the possibility of their character's death, which requires at least 10 posts.
-There is no strict posting order, allowing players to engage directly with others in their storyline without waiting for unrelated interactions.
-Players are encouraged to craft substantial posts with proper grammar.
-Players must create a character sheet.

As your role-play unfolds players will need to navigate not only the treacherous terrain and the elusive creatures but also the chilling knowledge that killers, both supernatural and human, could be lurking behind the next tree. The atmosphere is one of constant tension and foreboding, where every rustle of leaves and every shadow in the mist might be a harbinger of doom.

Hello

Welcome to the party Die!

The Seed of Orisia [Creation of The Illuminated Grove]

For three days and three nights, Gabriela slept.

It was a profound sleep, devoid of dreams -- and nightmares. She was not haunted by the ghosts of those she had killed, nor was she tormented by the one who owned her soul. There was only the darkness of exhaustion, and the peaceful river of the abyss, which carried her under a star-filled sky. But she could not see these stars, even as they bore their light down and illuminated her passage over the dark waters, she could only sense them against her skin. She was aware of the existence of the world beyond her unconscious prison and mindful of the passage of time that did not stop simply because she was no longer participating in reality.

There was a risk of slipping into torpor.

The exhaustion was so heavy, and at times it felt like the black waters of the abyss would lap over her body and pull her under. She would cease to exist them. She would forget the world, lose all track of it, and sleep until such a time as fate deemed her worthy to be awoken once again.

However, this was not the fate she chose. She did not sacrifice everything only to birth Orisia’s Seed into the world and abandon it. She could not merely plant the seed of paradise and hope that it would survive. No -- this new world needed her. She would nurture it. Gabriela fought against the demons of her debilitating fatigue and managed somehow to crawl back out to the surface.

But a great many things were lost in the trauma of it all…

As the first rays of moonlight broke through the dense canopy, casting a pale, white glow over the mystical forest, a woman slowly stirred beneath the towering trees. From a cradle of roots, shaped to protect her small figure, she slowly moved to sit up. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a radiant golden gaze that mirrored the hue of the setting sun. And the moment that her eyes opened, a sea of lanterns flickered to life, casting warm firelight all abound.

This was a marvel to her. She lingered, looking up through dark lashes, at the golden show of lights above her head, the warmth of the lanterns reflected in the color of her eyes. And when she could drink no more of the sight, she felt herself take a breath -- a deep and needed breath.

She sat up, and her dark, chocolate-brown hair cascaded down her back and fell in thick sheets all around her. The forest was alive with enchantment, and she did not know whether to be delighted or frightened. The lanterns that floated gracefully from the branches above, illuminated and revealed a path that opened ahead of where she lay. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant calling of a nightingale shifted her focus.

With an elegant grace that she did not realize she possessed, the woman rose to her feet and revealed a figure that epitomized delicate femininity. Her attire, though tattered and worn, clung to her form and accentuated her slight curves. The black tunic she wore was loose but torn in so many places that it barely concealed the pale, moonlight skin of her back, her belly, and her shoulders, and her tight breeches, though soiled with grime and dirt, clung to her hips, her rounded bottom, and shapely thighs, highlighting her lithe physique.

Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to piece together the fragments of her memory.

Who was she?

How had she come to find herself in this strange place?

And the hunger.

What of the hunger?

For there was a hunger within her, an insatiable thirst that gnawed at her very being.

Curiosity mingled with trepidation as she cautiously began to explore her surroundings. Every step she took seemed to be guided by an invisible force, drawing her deeper into the heart of the forest, until eventually, she stood upon the very path that had been lit for her. The lanterns gently swayed in the breeze and cast playful shadows before her -- teasing her to follow.

As she ventured onward, a subtle aroma filled the air -- a scent that set her somewhat numbed senses ablaze suddenly. It was the unmistakable scent of life, of warm, pulsing blood. Her golden eyes widened, reflecting the predatory edge that lay dormant within her. She knew what she craved -- what she needed to survive.

In the distance, a soft whispering sound reached her ears. The calling of a nightingale. Intrigued, she followed the sweet song until she arrived at a tranquil clearing. The lanterns, ever her companions, lit up the opened space amongst the trees. There, amidst the dappled moon and starlight, ran a peaceful stream, its waters shimmering like liquid silver.

Unable to resist, she went to the water's edge and knelt down, peering at her own reflection. She became captivated by the juxtaposition of the captivating beauty she witnessed and the darkness that lurked right behind her own golden eyes. The face staring back at her bore the marks of immortality -- a timeless and ethereal creature that barely concealed an eternal hunger.

With trembling fingertips, which she only now realized were badly injured and painful to utilize, she touched the corners of her mouth. And while she stared at her own reflection, she parted her lips and saw the sharpened canines that sat so neatly along the top row of her teeth. Without consideration, her tongue ran over the surface of one of these sharp incisors until she felt the prickle of pain and saw the stain of black blood dripping down her chin.

And although blood is what she craved, the taste and sight of her own filled her with a familiar dread she could not exactly explain. She cringed and quickly did away with the droplets of vita with the back of her sleeved hand until there was no evidence of the self-inflicted wound. And when it was all said and done, she sat back, her bottom resting on the back of her caves, and her hands dipped at the edge of the cool waters. Her eyes were shifting, examining her surroundings once again.

She had smelled blood but there was no sign of it.