Fallenreaper

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

Housewarming Gifts

Location: Nyhem to Claus’ temporary base
Time: Afternoon, 1 week and 2 days after the party
Collab with: @Klomster

---

Nyhem was locked within the autumn season. The rain drizzled across the city’s scenery, bringing the cool winds and salty air inland. Leaves were tumbling from their throne branches to pile across the cobblestone streets only to be cleared by busy feet treading the worn down pathways. Among the crowds was a blue skin female, the half-elven Dyril, on her way to the city’s gates. Her shoes slicked along the hard surface as she avoided the sprouting puddles collecting in the path’s holes and muddy steps. It was times like this she found herself missing the Elven architecture in Beilokias where water flowed into small made treads then shipped its merry way back into the local lakes or rivers. All out of sight and mind.

As Dyril approached the positioned guards, their indifferent expression told her everything. They neither stopped or cared for her presence while she edged past them. One only glanced long enough to note her appearance before giving a sound yawn.

She wore nothing that was made to draw attention.

A cowl was draped about her head, covering her neck and head from sight. Along the black dyed cloth were silver floral designs with a simple line edge, nothing too fancy. A dark poncho covered a slender tunic dress with the skirt ended just at her ankles. Her boots kicked the ends as her legs pulled along the road and brought her straight past the gate frame. On her arm, she balanced a basket filled with goodies that Kiseo had made up. Dyril suspected they would’ve been rather traditional to the Mao’s culture compared to the Elven one where well wishes were simply made. Those were often followed with secret wishes of misfortune, embarrassment, and worst within closed doors.

The half-elf pushed the thoughts away after spotting sight of the camp. The men’s rowdy shouts, boastering, and semi-military behavior made missing the place nearly impossible. At spotting her, one a young man rose then shot off to find Claus.

Claus was sitting in the command tent and approving and denying some of the suggestions and regular running bureaucracy of the company, papers and scrolls that needed approving by the company captain, things he had decided and just needed to approve, things that was just regular running things and a few things that sort of interested him for a few seconds. Like the report on how far along the repair of his armour had gone.

He liked the progress of the repairs that had begun the day before yesterday, but he cared less for the price.
In truth it was fair for a master armourers time, but that didn’t mean Claus had to like it.

With a quick tuck a trooper entered the tent and raised his hood before addressing his captain.
-”Steelhead, ‘lil Dyril is here.” A smile on his face, met with a smirk from Claus who responded.
-”Well, see her in then!” He hastily rearranged some of the papers on his desk.

Dyril was led in shortly after. Her hand reached for her basket, checking it was secured about her elbow, then looked at Claus. She pulled her hood down from over her head to rest at her shoulders.

“So, hard at work I see,” She gently gestured to the basket, “Is there anywhere I can place this?”
-”Put it here on the desk, since i assume we’re gonna explore what’s inside?” Claus answer was curious and of course ended with a smirk.

“Kiseo thought you would like a housewarming gift and she did tell me that each item symbolizes something for her culture. I don’t know fully what’s in side, but she was confident I would know them,” Dyril said as she sat the basket down.
With obvious curiosity Claus removed the cover to see what was inside. As he inspected each item he put it on his desk. Inside was some freshly made youtai, a fried bread Claus vaguely remembered from Beilokias, a candle he smelled but couldn’t place the scent of, but it was flowery, salt in a large pouch and a wine-pouch which he happily picked up and happily showed Dyril.
-”Aha! Wine, want to share with me? I have no idea what the scent is on this one though.” He said as he carefully ranged a toss and tossed the candle to Dyril. As she caught it Claus was setting up a pair of mugs.

Dyril mildly rolled her eyes, like a small sister annoyed by her drunken brother. She gently took a whiff and recognized instantly. A frown briefly graced her lips at when Kiseo had found the time to create a soothing scented candle was beyond her. Gently she set it back down then replied.

“Lavender. Its scent is suppose to soothe and relax anyone that inhales it, especially during times of stress. A few women use it in perfumes here in Formaroth, but the Mao use it for good health. I’ve seen this sold in Shingseng’s remedy shops.”

-”I see.” Claus was actually interested, but busy pouring the wine in the mugs. When he was done he offered one to Dyril and sar down with his legs crossed upon the desk.

-”So, what does the bread symbolise? And the other things as well of course.” He smelled the youtai deeply and put it down again. He figured he’d have some later.

“Well, from what both Kiseo and her mother, the bread symbolizes the hope you will never go hungry. The wine is for your life to have sweet experiences. I assume the other pouch is salt and that is for your life to always have some spice. Finally, the candle so your home will always be full of light and hope,” Dyril explained as she took her own mug, not surprised that Claus went for the wine first. He was never one to pass up the chance for a drink.

Spotting him sniff the fried bread, she then added, “She made it fresh this morning. I know this because, I had some for breakfast. She used sheep lard from a newly butchered ram. I’m pretty sure she’s making some potstickers and tofu, If you’re interested I can request she add another bowl.”

-”Ooh, some elven cooking. I think i’ll take that offer actually.” Claus checked the other pouch and it was indeed salt in it.

“The origins of potstickers and tofu is actually from the Mao culture. We just started to gradually absorb it into our own culture, much like we do with anything else,” Dyril corrected him.

Her lips curled into a softer smile, “Kiseo will be happy to have you, as would I. So, any idea how long before you could move into your new base?”

On that Claus fell back in his seat and exhaled in a troubled way.

-”The place was in a rough shape, all the inner walls needs to be stripped since the place had gotten damp in the insulation. Then the guys needs to put up new ones. I’ll however not put in as nice ones as was there before and they can forget embroidered walls.” He took a sip on his wine, a nice crisp wine.

-”That with the fact I need to redesign some stuff to fit all the guys… weeks, months. I’m thinking weeks though, my men are efficient and are motivated to get a proper house.” A rumble of thunder in the distance as well as the rain increasing explained well the motivation. Living in tents in the rain isn’t exactly fun.

Dyril jumped then settled back down, realizing what caused the thunderous sounds. Her eyes shifted to what served to be the tent’s doorway before returning to Claus. She considered her next words before putting forth her questions.

“Do any your men have building experience? I rather you weren’t crushed because the foundation was poorly put together.”
Claus shook his head with a smile on his face.

-”Everyone seems to forget it, the Steel Fist are specialised in siege warfare, many of the men are proficient siege engineers. I have set up siege towers and trench systems with their help. We don’t build it pretty but we build it strong. There will be no problem there.” Claus was confident and happy, not at all annoyed as he might have been had another person asked the question.

“Unfortunately, my… grandfather interrupted that education about the Steel Fist,” Dyril pointed out, unbothered by Claus’ correction.

Her hands folded into her lap as she thoughtfully looked toward the tent’s entrance. She knew the storm was approaching, but her mind couldn’t help but actually wander back to target practice. Every thump of the arrow hitting its intended spot made her heart jerk in excitement. Claus’ praise, even if it was overdone, helped to spur on that desire to become better. It was almost an addictive sensation she missed out in her life.

She had her wine only half drained now. She was a light drinker when she wasn’t required to dig deeply into the cup, mostly because she liked her head clear and able to spot any trouble before it happened.

“True, but siege towers aren’t exactly buildings. What are you aiming to build within it? What purposes will it have, aside from housing everyone between tasks?” Dyril figured she might as well get her mind off archery with helping Claus.
With a slight tuck on his chin, he pondered a moment before answering.

-”The usual, an office for me and a couple for the lieutenants. Katrina needs one as well, on top of that i need a practice yard, fake targets, archery range, those sort of things. But mostly it’s gonna be for sleeping in.” Claus answer was to the point, with a realisation he added.

-”Oh, and storage. Lots of storage.” He leaned back with his arms behind his head, imagining the storage filled with cash and booze with a grin.

“Sounds pretty simple,” Dyril noted, finally giving into her desires.

She placed down the wine glass as she bluntly asked, “I’ll admit, my original purpose for coming was a bit selfish. I wanted another lesson in archery. I need an escape from the stress of finding someone to escort my carts when I finally find the ideal climate for the mandrakes.”

Claus looked at the tent wall and listened to the rain for a moment.

-”Well we ain't loosening any arrows today. Blame the rain for that.” He turned towards Dyril, the times in the Beilokias they shared as they did simple archery training now a cherished memory of Claus, unlike all the memories of the wars which began to make themself known again. He shook it off and smiled.

-”But you know you are welcome to come and train archery any time you want. Swords, maces and polearms as well. If i don’t have the time there’s probably someone who’ll help you out as well.” He stood up and went to his pack and searched for a moment and produced a small hunting crossbow.

-”AHA! Here it is.” He pulled out and strung his crappy little practice crossbow, he’d gotten it from his mother once and kept it for fun. Dyril had honestly loosened more arrows from it than he but he didn’t care.

She shone up when he brought the practice bow.

-“But we can practice your stance! Now show me how it’s drawn.” He handed the crossbow over with a smirk.

The Return of Salem

Skylar Reed

_{"Dreams tell you a lot about a person. Their hopes, values and their fear, even the stuff they won't admit to themselves."}

---

x Sky x Bi-sexual x Warlock x Redd x 21 x

---

ᴛʀᴀɪᴛs

⚬ Dreamer ⚬ Empathic⚬ Idealist⚬ Generous⚬

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Skylar’s genetics favor a light and lanky built, his arms and legs filled with lean muscles. He likes his height of 5’5” and weighing at about 155 pounds. His bright blue eyes set well in his graceful face, sometimes enchanting you with a small smile. Skylar’s straight hair is light brown with highlights, kept about two short inches under his jawline. Often he keeps it tied back to allow him to see.

On his skateboarder physic, he wears graphic tees filled from band names to odd motifs he enjoys visually. Most days he wears jeans ripped out at the knees, but on colder days he will sport dark cargo pants. The more pockets, the better. His feet are protected from the elements with a pair of well-worn tennis shoes held together with duct tape in some spots. Around the age of eighteen, he decided to get his left ear pierced. He wanted two rings on the upper rim and one on the lobe. He interchanges these piercings between different decorative studs. These could range from bones to raven heads, even an intertwining snake curling around his ear.

Grimoire



This book is about the size of a small portable address book and appears weathered by time, the cover is made from an unidentified animal hide. The binding is a thick rawhide tie that can stretch across the middle. When opened, only off-white pages will greet the reader unless they are in a trance state or within the dreamscape. He keeps it on his person at all times. Usually tucked away in his back pocket with his wallet.

Talisman



After some heavy reading, he managed to purchase a raw amethyst gem and bind it in natural twine string. He fastened it about his neck to hang just under his neckline. This way it’s always within reach should he ever need it during casting his spells. He uses it to calm and focus whenever he casts magic, the crystal slightly clouded within as the power surges from it.

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛs
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Skylar’s primary interest is his music and dreams, but that doesn’t feed his creative mind all the time. During his life, he’s tried a wide variety of things from skateboarding to painting portraits. The experiences which fed his internal carvings best were developed the most. This included skateboarding, music related things, and dream manipulation. When something catches his interest, expect Skylar to be ready and in line to give it shot. He loves puzzling out problems then pushing his limits or ways to outperform his past attempts. Especially if he's never experienced it before.

ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Skylar is and always will be a dreamer. He sees the world through rose-colored glasses despite the layers of filth covering it, usually trying to stay positive for new things. This makes him easily distracted by things he wants to do causing indecisiveness. When things start to fall into unsavory patterns, his cynical side begins to surface. His interest begins to waver due to feeling more pressured than eager. The consequences can result in snappiness and sloppily finished tasks.

When it comes to people, his generosity and empathic traits take over. He can’t stand watching someone he cares for suffering in silence or out loud. This can cause issues as he’s more vulnerable to manipulative individuals, sometimes resulting in pain he could have otherwise avoided. Often the good in his hope outweighs the need to protect himself by repeating terrible choices with individuals until he finally cuts all ties with them.

One thing that Skylar can't stand is conflicts. During arguments, he will often try to find a compromise or completely give in if things become out of control. This isn't to say he is a pushover, but he finds little point in wasting energy when people fail to understand or see his point. Mental energy is precious to him, especially with his magic dubbing on the mental side of things.

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Skylar was born under the Pisces constellation on the 16th of March. His teenage parents doted over their firstborn son with promise in their eyes and hope in their hearts, the latter shortly lived. It turned out their first six years together were spent struggling to make ends meet. They found their old freedom consumed by their newly gained responsibility, each passing year began leading each parent down a different path.

Abel Reed managed to become a modest accountant for a drug company. He worked heavily into the late nights, only to rise the next morning dragging his feet for work. He rarely spent much time with his family as their creature comforts were more important to him than his presence. Skylar’s mother, Ripley Reed, handled the change much worse. She turned to narcotics to escape her reality and coop with her dying lifestyle. Often she got so high she forgot about the infant son she was supposed to be taking care of. It started off with simple weed then progress into harder drugs like cocaine and meth.

Eventually, the woman Abel and Skylar knew was gradually being replaced by a drooling stranger. It all came to a peak around Skylar’s sixth birthday when Abel presented his wife with divorce papers. The following year, it was finalized. Ripley didn’t fight or have a leg to stand on during the custody trial. In the years to come, Skylar held resentment toward his father’s success in ejecting his mother from their life.

Around the age of eight, he began to learn independence. He could prepare simple meals, clean the apartment, and do their laundry during his father’s long hours. Rarely Skylar was watched. He got his first job working part-time in a fast food restaurant. It wasn’t his favorite job, but he made sure he was productive at it. It gave him his own cash after all.

When he neared his seventeenth birthday, Skylar began to seek out his mother against his father’s advice. He found her in the city of Salem where he would shortly move to. She was slumped down in a crack house corner and filled with needle holes along her arm. Not willing to leave her to die, Skylar picked her up then carried her to his apartment. She kept returning when she learned who he was. For food, showers, clean clothes, and even left a list of needed supplies. He made sure never to give her money because he knew she would feed her addiction. He rarely contacted his father save on holidays. So the man never knew what secrets his son held.

As life became harder, Skylar found his escape through daydreams and music. Splicing together different soundtracks using different instruments, sounds and effects. His passion resulted in some fine mixes he sold for additional income. It was during one of these sessions he drifted into a trance.

Within this state, Skylar traveled a worn trail deep into the autumn woods. The details were so vivid that he truly believed he was there in the flesh. He ambled along the wounding path until he gradually came to a stone pedestal. There, a leather-bound book sat before him. His hand reached for the item before the dream state evaporated. As he shook off the euphoria, he felt a small weight in his hand. Skylar spotted a book resting there. It was ripped from within the dream into the real world and freaked him out at first. After the shock wore off, he tried to read it. Inside the pages were blank. Not a single letter graced the paper unlike in the dream.

Naturally trying to find answers, he tossed himself into the world wide web and researched everything linking the subject of trances and dreams over the next few weeks. What he found amazed him. In fact, it drove him to begin experimenting. The second time he slipped into a mediation, he began to shape his own demesne within the dreamscape. It took him roughly four years to achieve it. He bore through the mental exhaustion washing over him, but gradually it became more natural and easier.

In the recent year, Skylar had discovered how to read his grimoire by entering a trance state. The words appeared and revealed three spells into his budding repertoire. A sleep spell, memory potion, and how to walk through the dreamscape into other’s dreams. He perfected his ability to cast them and then branched out to test their limits. Now he just wanted to understand where this power came from. Salem appeared to be the best place to start with its rich, magical history.

sᴋɪʟʟs
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Dream walking/manipulation - Skylar’s time in the dreamscape has allowed him to be able to walk, connect and even influence the dreams he enters. This can be as simple as changing the scenery to locating and bring others into a different dream. While he can walk through random dreams, he needs to have seen or known of the individual in order to locate their specific dream. Areas of the dreamscape outside his created domain are far more difficult for him to control, but with practice and time that will change.

Memory potion- The grimoire has shown him an interesting potion that helps with memory. It puts the individual into a dream-like state within their minds, the potion locating the memory and dragging it to the user’s attention. The user ends up watching it from a third person point of view. Everything is vivid as they can see, hear, taste and even feel everything like it happened moments ago. This spell is limited to only what the individual experienced during that time.

Sleep spell- With a few mumbles under his breath, Skylar can touch someone and cause them to fall asleep. His current level requires it to be on the skin to skin contact. Each time he uses it, the individuals’ rate of falling asleep will vary. Skylar hasn’t fully figured it out, but he suspects it’s dependent on the adrenaline of the target. The more active an individual is at the time, the longer it takes for the sleep to fully take hold. Once it does, they need pain to wake them up or wait an hour until it wears off.

Relation Sheet

---

---

☀ – Best Friend
☼ – Friend
� – Neutral
ϟ – Rival
☂ – Nemesis
♡ – Love Interest
♥ – Significant Other
⛧ – Worship/Admire

---

---

� Lyra Proctor �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

�Elizabeth Hatwell �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

�Nyx �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Natalia Stone �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Mary Corwin �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Blake Burroughs �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Julian Driscoll �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Lilith �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Lucifer �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

The Return of Salem

Skylar Reed

_{"Dreams tell you a lot about a person. Their hopes, values and their fear, even the stuff they won't admit to themselves."}

---

x Sky x Bi-sexual x Warlock x Redd x 21 x

---

ᴛʀᴀɪᴛs

⚬ Dreamer ⚬ Empathic⚬ Idealist⚬ Generous⚬

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Skylar’s genetics favor a light and lanky built, his arms and legs filled with lean muscles. He likes his height of 5’5” and weighing at about 155 pounds. His bright blue eyes set well in his graceful face, sometimes enchanting you with a small smile. Skylar’s straight hair is light brown with highlights, kept about two short inches under his jawline. Often he keeps it tied back to allow him to see.

On his skateboarder physic, he wears graphic tees filled from band names to odd motifs he enjoys visually. Most days he wears jeans ripped out at the knees, but on colder days he will sport dark cargo pants. The more pockets, the better. His feet are protected from the elements with a pair of well-worn tennis shoes held together with duct tape in some spots. Around the age of eighteen, he decided to get his left ear pierced. He wanted two rings on the upper rim and one on the lobe. He interchanges these piercings between different decorative studs. These could range from bones to raven heads, even an intertwining snake curling around his ear.

Grimoire



This book is about the size of a small portable address book and appears weathered by time, the cover is made from an unidentified animal hide. The binding is a thick rawhide tie that can stretch across the middle. When opened, only off-white pages will greet the reader unless they are in a trance state or within the dreamscape. He keeps it on his person at all times. Usually tucked away in his back pocket with his wallet.

Talisman



After some heavy reading, he managed to purchase a raw amethyst gem and bind it in natural twine string. He fastened it about his neck to hang just under his neckline. This way it’s always within reach should he ever need it during casting his spells. He uses it to calm and focus whenever he casts magic, the crystal slightly clouded within as the power surges from it.

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛs
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Skylar’s primary interest is his music and dreams, but that doesn’t feed his creative mind all the time. During his life, he’s tried a wide variety of things from skateboarding to painting portraits. The experiences which fed his internal carvings best were developed the most. This included skateboarding, music related things, and dream manipulation. When something catches his interest, expect Skylar to be ready and in line to give it shot. He loves puzzling out problems then pushing his limits or ways to outperform his past attempts. Especially if he's never experienced it before.

ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Skylar is and always will be a dreamer. He sees the world through rose-colored glasses despite the layers of filth covering it, usually trying to stay positive for new things. This makes him easily distracted by things he wants to do causing indecisiveness. When things start to fall into unsavory patterns, his cynical side begins to surface. His interest begins to waver due to feeling more pressured than eager. The consequences can result in snappiness and sloppily finished tasks.

When it comes to people, his generosity and empathic traits take over. He can’t stand watching someone he cares for suffering in silence or out loud. This can cause issues as he’s more vulnerable to manipulative individuals, sometimes resulting in pain he could have otherwise avoided. Often the good in his hope outweighs the need to protect himself by repeating terrible choices with individuals until he finally cuts all ties with them.

One thing that Skylar can't stand is conflicts. During arguments, he will often try to find a compromise or completely give in if things become out of control. This isn't to say he is a pushover, but he finds little point in wasting energy when people fail to understand or see his point. Mental energy is precious to him, especially with his magic dubbing on the mental side of things.

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Skylar was born under the Pisces constellation on the 16th of March. His teenage parents doted over their firstborn son with promise in their eyes and hope in their hearts, the latter shortly lived. It turned out their first six years together were spent struggling to make ends meet. They found their old freedom consumed by their newly gained responsibility, each passing year began leading each parent down a different path.

Abel Reed managed to become a modest accountant for a drug company. He worked heavily into the late nights, only to rise the next morning dragging his feet for work. He rarely spent much time with his family as their creature comforts were more important to him than his presence. Skylar’s mother, Ripley Reed, handled the change much worse. She turned to narcotics to escape her reality and coop with her dying lifestyle. Often she got so high she forgot about the infant son she was supposed to be taking care of. It started off with simple weed then progress into harder drugs like cocaine and meth.

Eventually, the woman Abel and Skylar knew was gradually being replaced by a drooling stranger. It all came to a peak around Skylar’s sixth birthday when Abel presented his wife with divorce papers. The following year, it was finalized. Ripley didn’t fight or have a leg to stand on during the custody trial. In the years to come, Skylar held resentment toward his father’s success in ejecting his mother from their life.

Around the age of eight, he began to learn independence. He could prepare simple meals, clean the apartment, and do their laundry during his father’s long hours. Rarely Skylar was watched. He got his first job working part-time in a fast food restaurant. It wasn’t his favorite job, but he made sure he was productive at it. It gave him his own cash after all.

When he neared his seventeenth birthday, Skylar began to seek out his mother against his father’s advice. He found her in the city of Salem where he would shortly move to. She was slumped down in a crack house corner and filled with needle holes along her arm. Not willing to leave her to die, Skylar picked her up then carried her to his apartment. She kept returning when she learned who he was. For food, showers, clean clothes, and even left a list of needed supplies. He made sure never to give her money because he knew she would feed her addiction. He rarely contacted his father save on holidays. So the man never knew what secrets his son held.

As life became harder, Skylar found his escape through daydreams and music. Splicing together different soundtracks using different instruments, sounds and effects. His passion resulted in some fine mixes he sold for additional income. It was during one of these sessions he drifted into a trance.

Within this state, Skylar traveled a worn trail deep into the autumn woods. The details were so vivid that he truly believed he was there in the flesh. He ambled along the wounding path until he gradually came to a stone pedestal. There, a leather-bound book sat before him. His hand reached for the item before the dream state evaporated. As he shook off the euphoria, he felt a small weight in his hand. Skylar spotted a book resting there. It was ripped from within the dream into the real world and freaked him out at first. After the shock wore off, he tried to read it. Inside the pages were blank. Not a single letter graced the paper unlike in the dream.

Naturally trying to find answers, he tossed himself into the world wide web and researched everything linking the subject of trances and dreams over the next few weeks. What he found amazed him. In fact, it drove him to begin experimenting. The second time he slipped into a mediation, he began to shape his own demesne within the dreamscape. It took him roughly four years to achieve it. He bore through the mental exhaustion washing over him, but gradually it became more natural and easier.

In the recent year, Skylar had discovered how to read his grimoire by entering a trance state. The words appeared and revealed three spells into his budding repertoire. A sleep spell, memory potion, and how to walk through the dreamscape into other’s dreams. He perfected his ability to cast them and then branched out to test their limits. Now he just wanted to understand where this power came from. Salem appeared to be the best place to start with its rich, magical history.

sᴋɪʟʟs
▔▔▔▔▔▔ x

Dream walking/manipulation - Skylar’s time in the dreamscape has allowed him to be able to walk, connect and even influence the dreams he enters. This can be as simple as changing the scenery to locating and bring others into a different dream. While he can walk through random dreams, he needs to have seen or known of the individual in order to locate their specific dream. Areas of the dreamscape outside his created domain are far more difficult for him to control, but with practice and time that will change.

Memory potion- The grimoire has shown him an interesting potion that helps with memory. It puts the individual into a dream-like state within their minds, the potion locating the memory and dragging it to the user’s attention. The user ends up watching it from a third person point of view. Everything is vivid as they can see, hear, taste and even feel everything like it happened moments ago. This spell is limited to only what the individual experienced during that time.

Sleep spell- With a few mumbles under his breath, Skylar can touch someone and cause them to fall asleep. His current level requires it to be on the skin to skin contact. Each time he uses it, the individuals’ rate of falling asleep will vary. Skylar hasn’t fully figured it out, but he suspects it’s dependent on the adrenaline of the target. The more active an individual is at the time, the longer it takes for the sleep to fully take hold. Once it does, they need pain to wake them up or wait an hour until it wears off.

Relation Sheet

---

---

☀ – Best Friend
☼ – Friend
� – Neutral
ϟ – Rival
☂ – Nemesis
♡ – Love Interest
♥ – Significant Other
⛧ – Worship/Admire

---

---

� Lyra Proctor �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

�Elizabeth Hatwell �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

�Nyx �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Natalia Stone �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Mary Corwin �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Blake Burroughs �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Julian Driscoll �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Lilith �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

� Lucifer �

"Your character's thoughts on this character..."

The Return of Salem

Oh god, mine's going to be the oddball. XD

The Return of Salem

@FallenreaperThe link isn’t updated rn I will update the discord link soon sorry

@Aamaya

Thank you, I appreciate it. It's easier to shoot ideas over a chat than a pm, but I can do either.

The Return of Salem

Cool, I'll hop into the discord then and have it up in a day or two. I work better with people to bounce and talk with over my ideas, mostly to prevent my character from being too similar to another's. Unless only accepted members are allowed in the chat?

The Return of Salem

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>

If you go to the character sheet post she made you can just click the "raw" button on the top right of the post and copy the character sheet section :)

@Grape

Oh, thank you! ^-^

The Return of Salem

Peered though the rp section and found this, which sparked my interested. Are you still accepting? I might have a character idea for this rp, though my character sheet will not be as pretty as some of the ones shown here. Code format isn't my strength.

~Chrono Asylum: Devil's Plague

Xx---------------------------xX
Experimental Team
Xx---------------------------xX

When Angel vanished, the place around the pair wavered then dissipated. White bleed through the dark gothic motif as gargoyles crumbled into dust and books peeled from the shelves. When the faint memory faded out, nothing but a blank canvas was left in its wake. Nothing was left to draw any human comfort from existed now. It was clear by the empty shell left behind that Angel was giving them no choice, but to move on. Amidst the canvas were two red doors. Their presence seemed to stain the purity around them with its bloody color.

Slowly Cade glanced at Samad.

Not much had changed. His partner appeared to be unaffected by the abrupt change in scenery, Samad position now poised on the white floor. He had shifted into a cross-legged posture, his chin rested on his hand while he stared into the endless horizon.

Not willing to give so easily, Cade moved over to Samad. He twisted about in front of the man then flopped down hard on his own ass. Adjusting his glasses, Cade watched Samar until the Iranian broke the silence.

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Samad, we need to leave. We have to go through the red doors before we’re lost in here forever,” Cade began and added,“I can't leave without knowing you'll enter a red door. So you have the choice of us both staying here or facing whatever tethers you here.”

Samad glared at him. Cade’s breath stilled, held in his throats as anxiety swelled in his chest. He didn't know what his partner would ultimately decide, but either way, they were stuck with each other. After several moments, Samad exhaled then rose to his feet. Cade watched him move toward the nearest and gripped the handle. He paused before he turned back to Cade.

“Well, are you coming?”

Cade smiled. His figure rose to his feet while he edged to his own door, gripping it.

“Of course.”

They both walked through their red doors.

---

Location: Hoover Dam, Nevada
Time: Late Afternoon

“Samad… Are you listening to me?” A woman’s voice demanded, followed by snapping fingers inches from his nose.

When the bright light cleared, Samad blinked then stared down at his old partner. Her expression melted from an annoyance into worry at seeing his confusion. Immediately catching onto his mood, her arm reached out and pulled him closer to her. Her words echoed into his head in an attempt to soothe his rattled nerves.

“Love, what’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” her words twisted inside Samad’s gut.

He remembered this day. It was when they were investigating someone poisoning Nevada’s biggest water supplier, the Hoover Dam. She also died right here. This wasn’t real, despite how it felt. His thoughts were disrupted when Elsa touched his cheek after he didn’t answer her. Gently he clasped it in his own, letting her warmth reach his frozen heart for a moment.

“I missed you, so much Elsa. I’m so sorry. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve protected you and our unborn child.”

She said nothing more. Merely smiled as her hand continued to touch his, appearing to absorb his words.

“It was a boy, you know. A son. I wanted to name him Omar after his uncle, but now… that will never happen.”

Her hand slipped out of his with her final words, “You can’t change the past… Let me show you. It will heal you.”

A shot rang out from nowhere. Elsa’s eyes widened as her hand traveled to her middle, blood seeped from where a rifle bullet had excited. Tears streamed from her eyes. In the background several rogues were rushing toward the pair, their weapons drawn and ready.

Rage and pain flooded Samad’s eyes, a snarl escaped his throat. His hand pressed to her abdomen as his alchemy spread through her surrounding blood, slowing the wound’s bleeding to a crawl. His cold stare fixed on the first rogue whipping out his gun to aim it at Elsa, intending to finish her off. Samad whispered right causing the bullet to shift off course the moment it left the gun. It dug into the gravel at his feet. Unfazed by the near-death experience, the Persian Lion moved from around his partner to clash with the threat head-on.

Elsa wasted little time herself as she jerked her finger in mid-air. The air particles froze on contact forming a sigil in place. With a final jerk, it erupted into a spell. Rapid icicles formed and shot outward, like shrapnel from a bomb. Three rogues were thrown backward on their asses from the impact.

Not giving them a chance to recover, Samad drew his cane’s blade then paused long enough to swing down upon the first victim.

Flesh burned from the plasma as he screamed in pain, silenced by ice crawling along his skin. The distance click of another rifle being cocked caught Samad’s attention. His hearing enhanced by alchemy, he muttered return when he spotted the man. His hand raised two fingers then whipped them about. The bullet slowed in mid-air while it twisted about him, the speed increased on the return back to sender’s direction. Glass shattered indicating it found its mark through the shooter’s eye. The sound was followed by a satisfying death gargle.

Each rogue crumbled like in his memories. Every death was exactly the same down to the blood and sounds, filling his heart with dread. The moment was drawing nearer with the passing moments. More blood was spilled. More flesh was ripped or cut, leaving the corpses to pile up.

Insanity clawed at Samad’s while the addiction rose, his dependence on Alchemy raising enough that he wasn’t even using his weapons.

“Samad, we need to get out of here. There’s too many.” Elsa pleaded in his head.

Finding sense in her words, Samad’s eyes swept the bloody scenery. Already another batch of rogues (he suspected they were Alchemy clones) had been dispatched and were closing in. Their presence blocked their escape options like before causing the Iranian’s frustration to rise in his throat.

“We can’t,” He replied, his heart racing, “We are trapped. We’re going to have to jump.”

The Persian Lion darted toward the bridge’s edge overlooking the rushing river. It was a dangerous way down, well over sixty feet. However, he could slow their fall and lessen the impact. It would take a lot out of him, but he was confident he could handle it.

“They will just simply follow us, killing us in the water!”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Samad snapped back.

She had heard the harshness and frustration in his tone. Elsa drew closer causing him to face her, his hand raised for her to stop.

“No, Elsa, not this time. You will not do this again. I won’t let you.” Samad’s voice held fear at knowing what she was thinking.

Elsa simply continued to smile weakly.

“I told you, Samad. You can’t change the past.”

Without warning, Elsa’s palm thrust out catching Samad off guard. Ice spread across the ground underneath his feet then a wall formed, slowly shoving him toward the edge. Samad pushed against it to no prevail. Painstakingly his boots struggled to find purchase to escape his fate before he was sent flying off into the water below.

~~~***~~~

“Samad… Are you listening to me?”

The scene seemed to have rewound. From the same gravel dirt bridge to the rogues, it played out exactly the same with each one of Samad’s attempts to save Elsa nulled by his beloved. After what felt like the sixteenth attempt, he pulled her closer then quietly spoke into her mind.

“Why… why do you stop me from saving you?”

“The baby was already dead the moment the bullet struck… I had nothing left to live for. The least I could do was allow you to live.”

“I could’ve saved you both if I had known!" Samad roared only to have his strength break into a strangled sob, his hands reached to cradle Elsa’s face close to his.

His eyes closed as he pressed his head against hers. Openly weeping against his will. Elsa continued to stroke his cheek, feeling his sorrow and misery without her.

“No, you couldn’t,” Elsa began to confess, “I had considered getting an abortion because I feared our baby might be recruited by ARMO one day. It wasn’t until it was killed that I knew, I couldn’t bear outliving my own son.”

Gently she kissed Samad’s cheek.

“Your attempts to save us were doomed from the start. So please, my Samad, let this memory rest in peace. For me, if not for yourself.”

Through Samad didn’t say a word, he accepted her request.

“I love you…” With those words, Elsa let go of his hand.

Her warmth left his fingers as he felt gravity pull him back over the dam’s wall, heading into the still water below. This time his eyes closed and willingly accepted the fall. A pull at his mind signaled her taking the insanity, her fury turned upon the rogues rushing foolishly at her. Above him the storm brewed. The dark cloud collected, heavy with rain about to become snow, to release its fury upon the place.

---

Samad stepped through his exit door. He was greeted by a blinding light seared into his eyes. Gradually, his vision began to clear and adjust to the change. Taking a few moments to let the pain fade, his head swayed around. He noted that most of the motley crew had finished their business, but his heart dropped a bit at not seeing Cade among them. One red door was left unopened.

“Where are you?” Samad hissed underneath his breath.

Impulsively his feet took him toward the door and his hand reached out. It paused just inches from gripping it, uncertain if he could even open it or the consequences of his actions. He tsked then pulled his hand back to rest at his side. He hated the waiting as a deep, dark gut feeling surged into his core. Cade wasn’t doing very well. He could feel it.

Silently he endured, his arms crossed over in front of him.

"It seems we're done. Can we get back to the real world now?"

Samad’s head abruptly snapped in Olivia’s direction, followed by a harsh glare and word.

“We can’t until Cade is done. He’s still in there and struggling, he’s also putting out a lot of alchemy,” Samad’s fingers whitened as they gripped his skin, his leg twitching subtly.

Minutes passed before the sharp click of Cade’s door signaled his exit.

Weakly a figure pushed the door wider but held tightly to it. Cade’s hair flipped over to shroud his face. Several of his sebon were embedded into his side, wedged between the ribs and into his right thigh. The right arm hung limply with a few deep gashes severing the tendons. His clothes were shredded and singed in a few places with a crisscross pattern. Most notably the glow on his skin and the wings appeared to have vanished completely, the later left only two charred spots underneath his shoulders.

Immediately Cade stumbled forward. Instead of hitting the floor, Samad’s arm jerked out and caught him. With unusual gentleness, he lowered Cade onto his back where the Iranian began to check the wounds.

Cade simply just closed his eyes.

“Angel… ” he wheezed a bit, more rivulets of blood dribbled out of his lips, “No more red doors.”

“Where’s your bag?”

“I… don't know. Just...leave it.”

“Cade, you’re torn to shit. What happened?” Samad asked, his mouth become a thin line and stared at his partner.

“I had a worse demon than you… I guess. I’m so tired...”

Samad didn’t say a word. Instead, he stared at the piece of Cade’s flesh that came away with his hand. A putrid scent hit the air, soiling it immediately and spreading. It took a bit of alchemy to seal the smell away as he fought to keep his stomach from churning. Cade appeared completely obvious to the piece he was missing. His eyes closed in exhaustion as he fell into a slumber, unable to remain conscious.

Samad turned to Angel, wanting an explanation for his partner’s condition. Figuring it was too much to ask for, he sighed then carefully scooped Cade up onto his shoulders. He tried not to think about the flesh’s oozing, semi-rotten texture sticking to his own while he spoke.

“Now we can go.”

Ultralight

I'm not even REMOTELY happy with the length or quality of my post, but if I don't force myself to type something up now I'm probably never going to be able to keep motivated.

@Phantomlink959

I know the feeling. For me, after forcing the first time the posts get better as I got more stuff to react to and such.