Fat Boy Kyle

Devil's Storm

I'll bite, assuming that this RP is still accepting?

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

Alastair Kenelm – Sintra

A warm glow radiated from the lantern that was perched upon the large oak desk, giving the small room a comfortable feeling. The window shutters were left open too, allowing in a little starlight and a pleasant cool breeze. Alastair stood for a moment and peered over the edge of the windowsill to see the small gathering in the town’s centre. Some may have complained it was too late for singing, but Alastair found the gentle tune pleasant. Lowering himself back onto the rickety chair, he turned his attention back to the parchment laid ahead. He had paid an extortionate price for a map of the local area, but he needed one for his scrying. “There has to be something here.” he sighed as he rubbed the palm of his hand against his tired eyes. Eight days he had been in Sintra and yet he saw no signs of Conn or anything else that suggested that a dark force was at play – but then why was he brought here? The only mild lead he had was the arrival of an inquisitor who, in his garments, stood out like a saw thumb. He was easy enough to watch as he was staying in the same inn only a few doors down, but it seemed like ‘Omero’ was simply vacationing in the small town (or otherwise avoiding his duties).

Alastair shook his head to clear away his trail of thought and again turned his focus back to the map. Grabbing a needle from his bag, Alastair proceeded to prick his finger and let a few drops of blood fall on the map while whispering a simple chant “Ostendite mihi quid videritis, Indica mihi ubi erit”. The drops quickly began to resonate and starting running off to a single location, off to the most southern point of the map, indicating to him that the destination was out of the maps boundaries. Frustrated his thumped his fast down hard on the table and resisted the urge to roar out profanities. But then, something happened which had never happened before: the blood started moving again. It began moving north with an eastern curve and it seemed to not know where it wanted to go. He stood up from the chair and leant over the table, watching the blood as closely as he could. It seemed to move in fairly circular motions, and slowly but surely seemed to be winding its way through the hills towards Sintra. “What on Earth?” he muttered. Then, just as the blood reached Sintra it boiled and spluttered, and suddenly the air outside was filled with screams and a sound he had never heard before – a dragons roar.

Shooting up towards the window he managed to see the first wave of the dragon’s fire, sweeping down over a selection of houses and engulfing them in blindingly bright flames. Between the flames and the dark of night it was hard to actually see the beast, and Alastair’s pulse was pounding like a drum as he tried to figure out where it was. He thought of using his Raven’s Eye, but instead opted to doing what everyone else seemed to doing and simply ran. He did not waste time running through the inn, and instead dropped himself out of the window onto the cobblestone road below. He felt a sharp pain in his ankle as legs took his weight, but after a few steps could tell that he hadn’t injured himself.

Rather than run out of the town, he opted to follow a crowd into the nearby castle where, like cattle, they were herded into a dark room and left throughout the night. It was one of the worst days of his life, not because he was scared but because he felt useless. Those were the worst days for him, the days when he wasn’t enough, the days where he would fail to protect others. The smell of urine and faeces became more potent as the hours went on, and the floor became a grotesque pool of filth. He worried that those with injuries or burns would get infected, and he wished that he could offer his healing. He couldn’t though. If he did he would be either beaten to death there and then in the cramped dark room, or hanged when the chaos was over. No doubt given the circumstances a heretic and ‘witch’ like himself could easily be blamed for the attack.

---

The next day when the doors creaked open and the crowd was released back into the ruins, many began to sob uncontrollably at the state of their homes and the charred remains of their friends and family. As Alastair left the doors he felt himself blinded by the light and was forced to use his hand to cover his eyes. Therefore the first thing he noticed was that the smell outside was even worse than the smell inside. A sickly mix of ash and burning flesh filled his nose and he felt his stomach twist in response. When his eyes finally adjusted he looked back into the hall and could see that there were many who were not coming out, be because they were scared or because they had passed away in the night. “Be at peace” he said softly, causing a couple of nearby men to nod gently in agreement.

“Your Count begs your attention, for the sake of Portugal. Be you young or old, male or female, the Count, with the authority of the papacy and Lisbon behind him, urge that you meet in the palace courtyard for the opportunity of a lifetime and a chance to travel around the world. All who decide to undergo the task are promised a handsome reward, should you be chosen to do so!” called out a nearby crier. Alastair winced at the lack of compassion and empathy that the ‘count’ and his messenger showed. These people had just lost everything, and now he was gathering them up for what Alastair assumed was a hunt.

---

Alastair was not a citizen of Sintra, nor even of Portugual, but like everyone else he had slowly marched his way towards the centre and heard what the town’s leaders had to say. He was dumbfounded by their awful attempt to deny that a dragon had attacked, but he understood that they probably had little choice. After all, something like that would obviously cause a lot of panic (not that there wasn’t already a lot of that). What the town’s people believed did not matter to him though, all he was focussed on was the dragon. Such a threat needed to be dealt with, and he doubted there would be many people around experienced with the occult or monsters. Moreover, he knew that a dragon could be of some use to practitioners of the dark arts. He knew that some claimed that they could bind mythical beasts like dragons, or use its body parts for incredibly powerful spells or potions. He knew himself a sacrificial ritual that, if performed on something as powerful as a dragon, would no doubt give him incredibly powers. And if he knew this, then so would Conn.

By the end of that day he found himself aboard the ‘Burned Bitch’, with a crew that he wasn’t sure of. The captain, a certain ‘Dread Captain Scar’, was supposedly a monster hunter according to the rumours that had already begin swirling around. If nothing else, the captain seemed competent enough at giving speeches. Alastair also noticed that the inquisitor had also joined the crew, although Alastair couldn’t see him being a problem; he hadn’t noticed him before after all. Other than that there were a few tough looking guys, some not so tough looking guys, and even some women and children. Many of the men seemed to be ogling the young ladies, but Alastair was not one of them. He could not help but think of his daughter Cass when he looked at them, and actually felt somewhat protective towards them. After all, Cass would be in her early-mid-twenties herself by now.

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

@Fat Boy Kyle has been accepted and his character Alastair has been added to the cast list. Feel free to post IC whenever you so choose, FBK.

@The New Yorker

Thanks :)

I've nearly finished my first post, but it'll have to wait to tomorrow because I'm knackered.

Posted

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

Alastair Kenelm

Name: Alastair Kenelm
Age: 49
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Wales

Religious Affiliation: Druid
Secular Affiliation: None

Level of education: He is literate and can speak a couple of languages (English, French and Portuguese), but has had no formal education. He knows a lot about druidism (obviously), and he also knows much about the occult due to his journeys.

Social status: He is seen to most as a traveller and a healer. Some call him a heretic, and those who have seen him practice magic have called him a witch.

Occupation: Herbalist and ‘hunter’

Appearance: Alastair stands at around 6ft and is of slightly over average build. His active lifestyle and dangerous job have left him with a fairly decent physique for his age, with toned (but not massively large) muscles. He has strong facial features and an intimidating glare, but this can be counterbalanced by his humble smile. His hair is shaggy and grey, and extends into a fairly neat beard. His eyes are a greyish blue, and those that look at them close enough can see the constant pain that he is in. For reference see this.

As for clothing, Alastair wears a long black coat over a brown waistcoat and a grey shirt. He wears dark brown (almost black) Spanish breeches and a black pair of cavalier boots. An addition to this he wears a baldric on which he carries his Khopesh and a leather belt-bag containing various potions and ingredients.

Personality: Alastair is a kind but tortured soul. Whilst he has a decent moral compass and tries his best to help others, he is ultimately driven by a thirst for vengeance and will resort to using dark arts if he believes it is the lesser of two evils. For the most part he tries to keep to himself, not wanting to attract too much attention for fear of others discovering his magical abilities. When he does talk however, he tries to be very polite and will offer wise words where he can.

Skill set: Alastair is pretty skilled at fighting with his Kopesh, but will not fight so well with other more ‘standard’ swords. He is fairly good at hand to hand combat. He has a lot of arcane/occult knowledge, but for the most part he is only willing to use a few spells. He is a very good herbalist.

Languages: He is fluent in English, Spanish and Portuguese, and knows some basic French.

Bio: Alastair Kenelm was born of a long line of druids dating back to ancient times. His grandmother always told him that the bloodline contained within it the ability to use magic, but he (like most of his family) dispelled this as myth and legend. His upbringing, although different from most, was not particularly eventful. He was taught to honour the gods and to become one with nature, and it was a rather peaceful existence. His family had long abandoned any practices of sacrifice or dark rituals, and only the dead knew of such things.

When Alastair was around eighteen he met a girl named Ruth and it was love at first sight. She needed little convincing when he asked her to run away with him, and it was not soon after that the two had their first child – a son named Conn. Eventually she gave birth to two more, a second son named Harry, and a daughter named Cass. The young family lived in relative peace for ten years, travelling around the north of Wales and only going to towns when they really needed supplies.

The nomadic life wasn’t always easy though, and one nasty winter they were forced to find a shelter in which they need not pay for. This led to Alastair leading his family to some ruins in an old valley, one which he knew to be his ancestral tombs. Conn, unlike his siblings, was not scared of this place; in fact he found it someone soothing. Every night they went to sleep in that place Conn was awoken by a whisper in his ear, but would open his eyes to find no-one there. It was on the ninth night at this place that Conn decided that the whispers were coming from the crypts, and so ventured into them. They were dank and ancient, with little light, but Conn was drawn to a particular tomb where there sat on its roof a bound black grimoire. Conn left the tomb soon after and kept his search and his find a secret from his family.

Fast forward four years to when Conn had just turned fourteen, and the family was starting to slowly drift apart. By this time Conn had spent three years memorising the grimoire, and it had slowly turned his mind. He would now pray exclusively to Morrigan, much to the bewilderment of his family, and would laugh when he saw the suffering of others. His younger siblings began to fear him, for he would taunt them and beat them with little reason. His parents grew weary of him and contemplated sending him away, but they loved all their children too much to do so. But then one day it was too late.

It was during a full moon whilst his family was celebrating that Conn decided to make his first blood sacrifice. He grabbed the Kopesh that Alastair had brought off a Greek merchant, and without so much as flinching, walked up behind his mother and slit her throat. His siblings began screaming in terror and confusion, and Alastair simply dropped to his knees in agony. “Morrigan will bless us for this. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the rewards.” Conn tried to tell them, but it was in vain. Alistair’s grief quickly turned to anger and desperation as he launched himself at his son with a dagger, easily overpowering the young boy. He drove the dagger into Conn multiple times, leaving him mortally wounded. It was the worst thing that he had ever done, but he did so to protect his other children. He took back the Kopesh and the mysterious grimoire which laid beneath Conn. Then, not able to watch the life slowly fade from his own son, he grabbed Harry and Cass and quickly rushed them off to a nearby village. For three days he sat paralysed with grief in the atic room of an Inn, unable to eat or sleep. His two remaining children were fairing no better, and it was only when Cass fainted from hunger and exhaustion did he snap out of his trance.

Knowing what needed to be done, he left Harry with enough gold for food and board, and told him to regularly give his sister vials of a potion that he had brewed. Then, as the sun went down he went to bury his son and wife. But to his horror when he returned to the site of the tragedy he only found his wife, further mutilated than before and with her heart ripped out. He did not believe that Conn could survive such mortal wounds, but he could feel a darkness there and he became worried for his other children. He rushed back to the Inn but Harry and Cass were nowhere to be found, having disappeared without a trace or sighting. He knew it was Conn, and upon reading his grimoire he realised the full extent of the darkness that had taken over his son.

In the seventeen years since then he has hunted Conn around Britain, over the channel and down into the Iberian Penensula, desperate for vengeance and for answers. He himself learned all there was to learn from the grimoire before destroying it, and has since picked up other various tricks and spells. Although he hasn’t yet come across Conn again, he has just missed him on multiple occasions. His hunt has opened his eyes to a darker and larger world than he knew existed, one where magic and monsters truly exist, and he has felt obligated to fight darkness whenever it has crossed his path.

Recently his blood scrying has led him to Sintra.

Notes:
Alastair uses a small array of magical abilities. In truth he knows many powerful and dark rituals from the grimoire, like how to restore life, but would never use these himself. Below are some of the abilities you can expect to see Conn use:

•Blood boil – Alastair is able to gradually raise the temperature of his foes to boiling point, thus killing them. However to do this he must cut himself and let his own blood drip over a fire whilst he chants. This is not only dangerous for him, but is easily interrupted.

•Blood scrying – By dripping fresh blood (be it his or another’s) onto a map he is able to highlight a location of importance to him. He uses this to track down Conn but he always appears to be two steps ahead.

•Soothing touch – He knows some chants which, when combined with his potions, can help heal a variety of afflictions. None of these solutions are instant however, and can take days or even months to fully work.

•Raven’s eye – Using this ability he is able to see things that most can’t, such as demons, ghosts and the remnants of magic. However his vision is generally much poorer and darker in this mode, and it leaves him incredibly vulnerable to any sort of attack. When using this ability his eyes turn white.

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

*Waves frantically at SirBeowulf*

I've read the first post and I'm definitely interested. I'll give everything else a read and hopefully get a CS up later (that is, unless I read that this is no longer accepting).

End of Days Interest Check (L.A.D. Re-Boot - Mass Effect/Evangelion/Mech inspired)

Interested, although I'm not familiar with Evangelion. Will this be a problem?

I'm not new, I'm second-hand.

Hey welcome back, you might want to check out: This RP if you're into Warhammer 40k, It only just started and I think we're still accepting, though from the looks of it the GM intends the RP to be long-term.

Hope you find something here to enjoy.

@Jyoliod

Thanks for the link, but to be honest I've never been into Warhammer. Don't know why, it seems like I should be. Still, I'm going to give it a pass. Good luck though :)

I'm not new, I'm second-hand.

Hey, so I've been away from the guild for a while. Even before I left I wasn't really able to put much time into any RPs. But now I'm back, and I have much more time for now!

So! I was hoping maybe some people could point me in the direction of some interesting RPs. I tend to go for 'high-casual', or sometimes advanced. I'm into most things, but I tend to go either Sci-Fi or high fantasy.

It's good to be back :)

Hailstorm

@Fat Boy Kyle I dunno if Sanctuary's still a thing bro. Kish started a new RP a while ago.

@The Red Zephyr

Hailstorm

Sorry, been super busy with RL and I unfortunately don't see that changing anytime soon. If I get some spare time I'll try to throw a post together.

For what it's worth, this is the most active Rp that I'm in (the only other rp being Sanctuary).