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Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

<Snipped quote by Click This>

Someone likes their rivers tainted and full of cholera.

@Asuras

Well, this is a gothic Victorian themed roleplay.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Just wanted to have Luna be a former priestess the a diety of water (specifically freshwater, rivers, streams, lakes, rain, etc).

@Asuras

Useless goddess, no wonder they died

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

I went blood magic because I was dead set on it from the start, eheh. Using to create mostly peaceful arts and crafts felt fun, too~

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Ended up adapting part of that drawing I mentioned for this after all. Hardly as detailed as I’d have liked to make it on short notice, but I’m not good enough of an artist for that, ha.

Princess Ambassador

Giselle de Farry

'Sella'

♀

---

Standing at 5’ 4”, she possesses an average, if somewhat slim frame. Her pale skin is a near match for her paper-white hair, often done up in fluffy twintail locks that reach down to her upper back. Her blood-red eyes, typical of her kind, twinkle with amusement, to match the refined elegance of her way of carrying herself. She enjoys discerning, often bare-shouldered dresses, and usually of her own creation.

Abilities

As a lady of blood, Giselle takes the art of bloodcraft to its upper bounds of refinement. Acting as the artist or conductor of her own world, she paints the environment around her in tasteful blood. From the elegant dresses she wears, to the beautifully crafted weapons she wields, to even the exquisitely decorated chairs and tables that she sits at, they are all her creations of blood.

Once upon a time, transmutation of such valuable ichor into immutable, fantastic masterpieces was not beyond her. It was not uncommon for her to reward the most loyal of her friends and followers with thoughtfully crafted weapons, equipment, and sundry. To others, for the right price.

Although her work embodies creation, it does not belie her destructive potential, either through her creations themselves, or by brute force of blood as is favored by many of her kind. Possessing a secondary affinity for illusion, a task she puts to use in friendship, it can be otherwise insidiously dangerous in battle, in light of her abilities of creation. How can one feel safe, after all, if one knows what they face is a creation, but not of what type?

Personality

Giselle is an unusual character for her breed, insofar as one can be as an undead being whose unlife and purpose revolves around lifeblood. Secular as much as one can be without being too out of line with Ichor, she treats humans as intellectual equals to her own kind, preferring to judge people on their individual merit and without the bias of unlife— show respect and have your wits about you, and she will return the favor, and more. That, however, doesn’t stop her from finding many of them wanting, and subsequently, beneath her notice.

To humans, she is one of the more pleasant characters among her people, if somewhat smug and self-satisfied. She’s able to find intellectual companionship with the humans and vampires that she finds herself able to respect, and somehow finds amusement out of the antics of those that she does not. Those that she favors she does all in her power to protect or win to her side, slotting them into her retinue with their free wills (mostly) intact, dispensing favors and rewards with an even hand. Many eventually serve in her employment as maid and butler knights, as thralls and valued humans alike.

Content to talk, listen to stories, and act as ambassador between the two worlds, she does not kill unless required to do so, finding the act a waste. Satisfied with her own thing in peace, she subscribes to the mind your own business school of ethics. She, however, responds by rote with significant force escalation if even slightly provoked otherwise. To Giselle, the taking and giving of blood is transactional—if she respects you. For the right price, she may even allow one to walk alongside her as a fellow daughter of Ichor.

In the wake of the ashes of an era crumbled to dust, for how the world has fallen, only sense can be found in returning her queen and liege lord to the world.

Biography

An era and a half ago, long lost to time, Giselle was once the heir to a great princely house. Just and fair, wise for her years, a consummate diplomat, and unblinded by religious zeal, she was the ideal successor to rule the lands of the great house. It was this same lack of dependence on the whims of the gods that made it easy for her to fall when a vampire passed into her domain.

Finding stability in a particularly decadent ritual together with some of her court, once turned, her attention simply returned once more to tend to her domain with a careful but firm hand, as she always had, securing peaceful futures for her human and undead subjects through personal diplomacy—backed by her loyal order of maid-knights.

In time, she became respected for her immutability and diplomacy by both living and undead alike, joining the orbit of the Queen as one of her trusted, if aloof, generals in the role of ambassador between the two societies. She was the bridge between her kind and the humans, the gateway to the undead, and the undead to the living. Connections, special goods, and services that might never have existed between the two did, through her.

It was a respect and a reputation that went a long way, her land and court remaining a finely balanced neutral safe ground even well into the war of the crusade of the Hundred Paladins, carefully maintained by ironclad treaties and agreements.

Yet still, the paladins would not suffer a single vampire to remain untouched, especially one that would provide the last safe haven to her kind. Fortress as it was, booby-trapped beyond reason, guarded by its own elite order of knights and secured by human alliance, it was no deterrent. Eventually, they came for her and her people still, as society and general order unraveled as the era came to a close. The last days of the crusade burned bright and hot as vampires fought against paladins, knights against knights, humans against humans, the Paladins paying dearly for every inch of soil taken.

There was only so much an isolated enclave in a collapsing world could take, however, before it too would fall together with their Lady and the rest of them all.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Six slots for twelve players, hmm? This'll be a particularly competitive one it seems.

I'll work on something today and or over the weekend.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead - A Unheroic Gothic Vampire RP

Vampires? Undead? You've got my attention and interest.

Dunno if I have the time for another RP or a character off the top of my head, though.

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

Kyra Pfalz-Karstadt,

most definitely not Lutatia Eichenwald von Brudel

---

A dark expression momentarily flashed across the envoy of Agamemnon’s face before she affected a strained smile. She would not admit how close the envoy of Anhur had been in his guess. “Obviously not. Otherwise, would be meeting at the Empress’s court in Brudel.” Shrugging, she took a deep sip of her beer, but not uncouth enough to do so in an unrefined manner.

Her attention soon turned as she felt the other envoys trickle into the establishment, not that she needed her newfound envoy sense to detect most of them. It seemed the gods had been discerning, for each of the other envoys were remarkable in their own ways, the manner of dress being the more obvious.

In fact, the envoy of Qhalus arrived in such an ostentatious manner that Lutatia wasn’t even sure why she had ever bothered to stay lowkey with her attire and choice of food. She decided to ignore the paltry lump of bread in front of her in favor of the banquet the hedonistic girl had ordered up. She’d never turn down a free meal, although she decided that she would be having words with the girl over their future finances and spending habits.

Still nursing her smallbeer, she glanced up as a red-robed scholar approached. “Ha,” Lutatia barked out a small laugh at her greeting. “Kyra. I’m a local here,” she said simply, by way of introduction, pitching her voice loud enough so that the other envoys at the nearby table could hear. “I think you’ll find that I subscribe to the more elegant intent of noblisse oblige than silly spectacle, even if I can appreciate one from time to time.” She offered a hand out in greeting. “Besides, He can also represent the restraint of the crown and the tedious realities of administration.”

She couldn’t help but to give her a searching glance at her last statement. Anhur was right, why were people booing him?

Lutatia acknowledged the innkeeper’s arrival with a nod, mulling over the information. Along with Aurelian, she had taken the time to slip over to briefly examine the board. Frankly, the job was beneath them, even if it had come from high places and from a good man. She’d never met Lord Dunham, never had a reason to, but she knew he had his heart in the right place and was alright in her books. The high reward struck her as strange, though, and she had to wonder if there was more to it than a simple patrol lost in the wilderness.

As the conversation turned back towards the mission and the urge that compelled them all to meet in this city, she couldn’t help but to comment. “It could be,” she ventured cheekily, “That my patron prefers the others travel to him?”

She then shook her head. “No, the obvious answer is that our lead is here, but I’m not so sure that a search-and-rescue mission is it,” she replied, inclining her head in agreement towards Liora. Granted, she was a Pegasus knight, so she was uniquely suited for running this sort of mission. But as the envoy of Qhalus had so kindly noted, it would probably kill her with boredom, even if it was easy money.

“I’m not against taking the job. In fact, I’m a Pegasus flier, I can do it by my lonesome while the rest of you look into other avenues of investigation. We’re in the merchant capital of the world, after all,” she continued, spreading her arms out in gesture. “If we’re to find rumors of prophecy, here is the place to find it.”

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

Lissa

Lissa groaned. Well, she couldn’t have expected a villager, even if she knew some magic, to have good battle sense. It still didn’t help much when you’re being chased by a giant camouflaged beast, though. The Raam continued to ride the stretcher as it zipped along. Normally, she would have been impressed, perhaps even intimidated at the speed of it all, but when the angry chameleon was somehow keeping pace, it was easy enough to lean away from the ‘scary fast’ side of the spectrum to ‘not bloody fast enough.’

She didn’t think the beast would be too content to just continue its wild chase, either, so she slowly began to move and position herself towards the back of the stretcher, carefully so that she wouldn’t tumble off of fall onto Nylah’s injured patient. It was important to keep herself upwind of the moth dust the girl was putting out, too; she had never been too familiar with the Mothraki’s biological traits aside from their similarity with their smaller cousins, but she knew that dust wasn’t good for most people. The Raam were different, but she wasn’t going to put her own race’s biological resilience to the test for the moment.

Her decision to move backwards was prescient. The creature was growing restless, but now in position, Lissa had enough time to attack directly from drawing, as she slashed out with her sword to meet the tongue that lashed out towards her charge. With some luck, she’d cut its nasty tongue right off and Nylah wouldn’t become lizard food today.

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

Kyra Pfalz-Karstadt,

most definitely not Lutatia Eichenwald von Brudel

---

There was a certain irony, Lutatia thought, that it was likely her fellow envoys had spent weeks, if not months to gain their bearings and make the journey to Coris. In the meantime, her lifestyle had hardly changed from the time of the Before, and the vibrant merchant capital remained her home in the intervening months. In fact, that was probably truer now than in her previous life.

If she had been more conceited, she would have entertained the notion that it was because the other envoys would naturally congregate around the Envoy of Agamemnon that everybody would gravitate to this city. Clearly a silly notion, but it was still an amusing coincidence that she wouldn’t complain about.

The Brudelian princess, in her long-held disguise as Kyra, had not been sitting idle, however. Dying and turning into an envoy was complicated by her particular manner of dying, unlike the others. Being the target of an assassination yet again meant there had been many, many loose ends to tie up, lest they interfere with her goals as an envoy. The obvious and easy solution had been to dispose of her current persona, since it was likely compromised, although given the natures of the trade she couldn’t be completely sure whether or not the assassins were from Brudel or from a particularly vindictive merchant rival. Had she survived, she would have done just that. But she did not, and there were too many advantages to the cause to not remain as Kyra, martial merchant advisor extraordinaire.

She had burned a lot of political and monetary capital in Coris in ensuring the remaining integrity of her disguise. The intrigue of a rich, multi-ethnic mercantile republic was no less treacherous than that of the Brudelian court, and there were some very interesting ways to find solutions to problems there, even as the threat of northern aggression loomed ever-present.

Even then, she still wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t be ambushed once more in the future, this time with far greater consequences.

Such was the price of a second envoy of Agamemnon.

That state of affairs had taken some weeks to sort out, but it was worth it. It was a shame that she had to leave her mostly cushy position at the North Bay Company, but the departure was amicable and even understandable when she turned back up at the merchant house looking bloodied and half dead. There were connections there that she and her soon-to-be fellow envoys could lean on in the future.

That left her a couple precious, unmolested months with which she could enjoy her home in peace. That home, as it happened, was one of the few things together with its contents that she hadn’t traded away for favors or hard currency for her mission. She was still committed to her host’s dying wish of a comfortable retirement, after all. It also made a very good place to catch up on training for the journey ahead, as well as on the stacks of neglected tomes that she hadn’t found the time for during her tenure with the North Bay Company.

Aside from her regular excursions with Lede to keep up her flying hours –she held herself and her partner to a strict training regime, after all-- she had kept up that routine until today. Earlier in the morning, she had gotten a feeling that she should probably make her way to a certain tavern by the docks soon. She had time enough, though, to enjoy the city for a while longer, as she strolled the city square. It was only marred by the rantings and ravings of a hoarse foreign cleric.

It was a better sermon than from one of the city’s usual suspects. She even found herself agreeing with the entirety of it, but that wasn’t surprising, considering her own views. She had always resonated well with Anhur and his faith, after all. And he was right. Latis, and by virtue of association, Coris, remained in a very precarious geopolitical spot. As long as the status quo remained, there was no doubt that the Twin Kingdoms would eventually fall. Although it had a body of water between it and Nuniel, it was not her homeland either, equipped with the finest air force on Edanica and ringed by impenetrable mountain ranges as it was.

Lutatia continued with her errands, leaving the voice behind. Nonetheless, she had a feeling that she would be meeting its owner before the end of the day.

---

The Red Snapper was truly an unremarkable place. She was not familiar with the particular establishment, but there were dozens like it along the length of the city waterfront. They were all grimy, with some variety of sun-bleached, frequented by rough, but mostly honest sailors, with the occasional handful of scoundrels in between. This particular one felt trawler-themed, though the oversized stuffed red snapper above the bar proper made her wonder if it was a true red snapper or another species of fish covered in red lies.

The establishment seemed to do good business, with its clientele a mix of fishermen and wealthier merchant sailors, with the occasional mercenary and soldier types here and there. Lutatia stood out somewhat, if only by the quality of her clothes; she had dressed simply, with a pair of durable pants, and a loose white button shirt. Her sword remained at her side, though she had foregone the cloak—it was too conspicuous. There was more than the usual to be wary about here, after all.

It wasn’t quite so busy that she couldn’t slip into a seat at the bar, next to a dragonborn that did not belong here at all. Ignoring him for the moment, she caught the barkeep’s eye and slid a small silver coin down across the rough wooden surface. “Small beer and a bit of bread,” she tapped, glancing in the corner of her eye the armored foreigner at her side. She remained silent until her drink and a chunk of rye bread was in front of her before letting slip. “From Anhur, are you? Nice speech earlier, better than what I hear most days in that square.”

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

Lissa

Sometimes, discretion really was the better part of valor.

Even more so, when your temporary partner makes a fatal mistake, like provoking an apex predator with a bit of pain and a light show. Lissa thought that she was generally a chill person, but at the moment, she couldn’t help but to screech at the moth girl’s instinctual reaction.

“Gaaah…! Nylah! Stop provoking it!”

Of course, it was far too late. Something –whatever is was, she couldn’t quite see it properly—barreled out of the forest, obviously provoked by the magic spells and began to make a beeline for the fleeing girls. Lissa didn’t spend much time goggling at whatever was going after them, but between the camouflage and the glimpse of the lizard-like being as the landscape briefly transitioned from forest to field, she knew it was nothing good.

She was going to have some words exchanged with the girl once they made it back to the village. For now though, she held on for dear life onto the stretcher as Nylah accelerated the thing into light speed back to the village. She just hoped that it wouldn’t follow them all the way back to the place and lay waste to it.