Frettzo

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay, Mk. V

And so it begins. This will be my 7th Divinus, lmao

The Black Prophecy (Dead now; requiescat in pace!)

Lysiallys, the Forgemaster (withdrawn)

Lysiallys, The Forgemaster.

Scion

---

It was the ever present stink of human waste and rotting matter of all sorts that topped the list of things he hated about the Underbelly.

He needed to purchase some… Exotic equipment for one of his jobs, and had just gotten a tip about someone who could supply him with what he wanted… Probably, at least. Such was the way in which business was carried out in the Underbelly. You never knew for sure if you were going to get what you were looking for.

He turned a corner, deftly avoiding a pile of waste and going into a rather dark, narrow alleyway. At its end there was an unassuming door which perfectly blended in with the other doors at either side it, with wood rotting in places and the handle in the process of rusting.

He knocked loudly on the door, then pushed it open even as the hinges protested. It almost felt like his father’s knees when they locked up and he had to help him straighten them.

The young man went into the store and closed the door behind him, taking in a deep breath of the scent of low quality herbs being burned for fragrance. Still, it was better than the stink of the alleys and sewers.

He walked up to the counter and nodded at the figure behind it. It was slender, slouched over, and had long, slender fingers that ended in dark, sharp nails.

The young man’s left eyebrow twitched as he leaned on the creaky counter.

“Hey Old Man, got anythin’ to put out fires before they start?” The young man asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the Old Man’s eyes through the thick shadow covering his face. He was unsuccessful.

“Hmm…?” The decrepit old man hummed, slowly tilting his head at the new customer. He started to click the tip of one of his fingernails against the counter.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“You know… Somethin’ I could wear to go through a burning buildin’ without gettin’ burned?”

“Ah!” The Old Man suddenly perked up, a movement that saw him fix his posture. The Old Man was easily a head taller than the young man, who was already considered tall amongst his peers. The young man grimaced. “Why yes... I do have something for you, boy…” The Old Man said in a low volume and proceeded to reach for something under the counter, which turned out to be a small box with glowing words of power etched onto its surface.

“Huh, you have really high quality stuff, Old Man… I don’t even wanna know what someone like you is doin’ in this dump.”

“Wisdom like yours is rarely seen down here, boy...”

“I learned early on that questions can be lethal. Anyway, what’s in the box?” The young man asked, making a move to grab the box. He was cut off by the Old Man putting his skeletal hand over it, however. The Old Man then opened the box and showed the young man its contents.

A single ring, seemingly made of bronze, betraying its ancient nature. Unintelligible words of power were carved in an unbelievably small size all along the inner part of the Ring. They glowed a faint blue as the Old Man’s hand grabbed it and offered it to the young man.

“I’ve never seen anythin’ like it, Old Man… Isn’t bronze real expensive, too? I don’t have that much paste with me. Show me somethin’ else, that thing’s givin’ me the shivers.”

The Old Man chuckled. It was a short noise, followed by coughing.

“Boy… This ring was crafted by none other than the Forgemaster…”

The young man furrowed his brow and looked at the ring again, grabbing it and inspecting it more closely. That was a name he had heard before, but he didn’t quite remember when or under what circumstance.

“The Forgemaster… She of blood-red skin... With scars gained from honourable battles with the Great Heroes of Old... She who in ages past created the famous Third Talon… You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you boy...?” At that moment, the Old Man seemed more like a Demon than a Man.

The young man gulped, holding tightly onto the ring.

“The sword that killed countless heroes… But I thought-”

“That they were only stories...? That the Black One and his Loyal Scions were a made up tale meant to scare children into blindly worshipping the White One, and that the White One was the only Great One to ever walk upon our lands...? Naive young boy...”

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“... I’ll take it. The ring. How much?”

“Name the price, boy… The more things you sacrifice in order to obtain one, the stronger it will be…”

The young man barely held back a nervous smirk. What a dumb old man. By asking him to set the price, he was basically begging to get swindled. He fished into his pockets and threw two misshapen copper coins onto the counter, then turned and began to walk away.

“There are many more Artifacts where that one came from, boy… Not just rings, but sets of armour worthy of Kings… Weapons worthy of Heroes… Clothing fit for only the finest and cleverest men… I am sure we will meet again… If you survive…”

The last thing the young man heard before he closed the store’s door on his way out was the incessant clicking of the Old Man’s nails on the counter.

The Black Prophecy (Dead now; requiescat in pace!)

Lysiallys

Lysiallys, The Forgemaster.

Scion

---

It was the ever present stink of human waste and rotting matter of all sorts that topped the list of things he hated about the Underbelly.

He needed to purchase some… Exotic equipment for one of his jobs, and had just gotten a tip about someone who could supply him with what he wanted… Probably, at least. Such was the way in which business was carried out in the Underbelly. You never knew for sure if you were going to get what you were looking for.

He turned a corner, deftly avoiding a pile of waste and going into a rather dark, narrow alleyway. At its end there was an unassuming door which perfectly blended in with the other doors at either side it, with wood rotting in places and the handle in the process of rusting.

He knocked loudly on the door, then pushed it open even as the hinges protested. It almost felt like his father’s knees when they locked up and he had to help him straighten them.

The young man went into the store and closed the door behind him, taking in a deep breath of the scent of low quality herbs being burned for fragrance. Still, it was better than the stink of the alleys and sewers.

He walked up to the counter and nodded at the figure behind it. It was slender, slouched over, and had long, slender fingers that ended in dark, sharp nails.

The young man’s left eyebrow twitched as he leaned on the creaky counter.

“Hey Old Man, got anythin’ to put out fires before they start?” The young man asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the Old Man’s eyes through the thick shadow covering his face. He was unsuccessful.

“Hmm…?” The decrepit old man hummed, slowly tilting his head at the new customer. He started to click the tip of one of his fingernails against the counter.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“You know… Somethin’ I could wear to go through a burning buildin’ without gettin’ burned?”

“Ah!” The Old Man suddenly perked up, a movement that saw him fix his posture. The Old Man was easily a head taller than the young man, who was already considered tall amongst his peers. The young man grimaced. “Why yes... I do have something for you, boy…” The Old Man said in a low volume and proceeded to reach for something under the counter, which turned out to be a small box with glowing words of power etched onto its surface.

“Huh, you have really high quality stuff, Old Man… I don’t even wanna know what someone like you is doin’ in this dump.”

“Wisdom like yours is rarely seen down here, boy...”

“I learned early on that questions can be lethal. Anyway, what’s in the box?” The young man asked, making a move to grab the box. He was cut off by the Old Man putting his skeletal hand over it, however. The Old Man then opened the box and showed the young man its contents.

A single ring, seemingly made of bronze, betraying its ancient nature. Unintelligible words of power were carved in an unbelievably small size all along the inner part of the Ring. They glowed a faint blue as the Old Man’s hand grabbed it and offered it to the young man.

“I’ve never seen anythin’ like it, Old Man… Isn’t bronze real expensive, too? I don’t have that much paste with me. Show me somethin’ else, that thing’s givin’ me the shivers.”

The Old Man chuckled. It was a short noise, followed by coughing.

“Boy… This ring was crafted by none other than the Forgemaster…”

The young man furrowed his brow and looked at the ring again, grabbing it and inspecting it more closely. That was a name he had heard before, but he didn’t quite remember when or under what circumstance.

“The Forgemaster… She of blood-red skin... With scars gained from honourable battles with the Great Heroes of Old... She who in ages past created the famous Third Talon… You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you boy...?” At that moment, the Old Man seemed more like a Demon than a Man.

The young man gulped, holding tightly onto the ring.

“The sword that killed countless heroes… But I thought-”

“That they were only stories...? That the Black One and his Loyal Scions were a made up tale meant to scare children into blindly worshipping the White One, and that the White One was the only Great One to ever walk upon our lands...? Naive young boy...”

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“... I’ll take it. The ring. How much?”

“Name the price, boy… The more things you sacrifice in order to obtain one, the stronger it will be…”

The young man barely held back a nervous smirk. What a dumb old man. By asking him to set the price, he was basically begging to get swindled. He fished into his pockets and threw two misshapen copper coins onto the counter, then turned and began to walk away.

“There are many more Artifacts where that one came from, boy… Not just rings, but sets of armour worthy of Kings… Weapons worthy of Heroes… Clothing fit for only the finest and cleverest men… I am sure we will meet again… If you survive…”

The last thing the young man heard before he closed the store’s door on his way out was the incessant clicking of the Old Man’s nails on the counter.

Sundering Artifice

Is there a time limit to the applications? I suddenly found another RP with a LOT of my old veteran buddies and would like to focus on character creation for that for a day or two before coming back to this one!

The Black Prophecy (Dead now; requiescat in pace!)

HELLO

Sundering Artifice

If you're wondering why I'm taking my time with the CS it's because I am making a drawing of my character xD

Sundering Artifice

I'm here, I'm the one who asked about the kemonomimis! I will be creating a character soon. Though I did want to ask about things like cybernetics. Say like bionic ears or eyes. Are these things available to Sunderers?

Become Anime Girls, Destroy Robots

Can I be a cute dog girl or na?

The Illuminated (Occult Lodge RP, Historical Fantasy or Urban Fantasy, Period Undecided)

Would be interested if I was able to be a humanoid supernatural

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

The Sinful Children

---

I

---

There, in the centre of the Endless Forest, was a large settlement that had gone unnoticed for years. It was only over the last year thanks to a rise in the number of disappearances that people living in the various villages on the outskirts of the Forest realized something wasn’t right and sent a messenger to the nearby Lesser Town of Ruthil.

In response the Arborean Guild of Explorers and Guardians, A.K.A. the Guild, sent an Explorer and a Guardian to investigate.

A week after venturing out, the Sylphi Explorer returned to one of the small villages, badly beaten and broken.

He told the story of the Sinful Children, a group of Sylphi and Goblins that worshipped a ‘Horned Demoness’, as well as the horrors that came from the depths to feed on his fellow captives in the pitch blackness of the Endless Forest’s night.

His stories were wild and people did not truly believe them... That is, until a day after his death when a full Party of veterans arrived in the same village.

---

II

---

Four Sylphi wearing bone-reinforced leathers walked through the Endless Forest. On all their chests they had sown a patch depicting the same thing--A pine, with vivid green leaves covered by thick snow.

The Sylphi themselves were not much different from the pines in their patches. They were pale, with nearly white skin and bleached leaves on their heads.

It was midday, the harsh Sun of Galbar shining down through the canopies.

They walked carefully, barely making a sound, and had each member of the Party watching each direction, weapons drawn. One Bow, one Spear, one Shield and one Fist.

Confidently, the Party walked out into the open clearing where the Sinful Children’s settlement was. Shield ahead and Bow carefully scanning the treeline. As one, they walked up to the wooden arc that marked the only entrance.

The scene was almost too much. Human corpses hanging upside down from poles, flayed and being drained of blood… Mountains of filth piled up outside the palisade, consisting of feces as well as old bloodied clothes and diseased bones… And inside, right next to the entrance were several cages made from wood, bone and reinforced with random bits of metal here and there. Inside the cages, were Human men and women, in varying states of malnutrition and disease. Some of them didn’t seem to have lips, teeth or tongues at all anymore. It was a wonder how they were still breathing.

Still, the Party did not flinch. Their immediate objective was not to free the victims, but to exterminate the Children.

And no Children did they see.

They searched every nook and cranny in the village. They went into the basements where they found starved, chained up Sylphi and even quickly checked the few easier to access caverns all over the settlement. And there was... nothing.

Almost an hour later, the Pines regrouped in front of a crude altar in the central plaza of the settlement and decided to release the prisoners and escort them back to civilization.

It was then that the sky became very dark.

Thick, unnatural clouds assembled out of nowhere and blocked out the sun, and the air stagnated.

Then a very familiar buzzing rang out from somewhere within the Altar…

“Buzzer warming up, get behind me!” Shouted the Shield, planting his tower shield on the ground and bracing against it.

Quickly the others squeezed in behind him and not a second later, the altar exploded.

Splinters and shards of stone flew everywhere. Walls were blown open and the ground was showered by shrapnel. The Shield held fast however with only minimal damage as some shrapnel lodged itself in it.

Then the ground started shaking. “H-Huh?!” The Bow gasped, her leaves rustling as she took a few steps back. “Troll incoming, very big! Smells like centuries. Stand back!” She shouted and ran out of the centre then climbed on top of a hut, training her bow and arrow on the rising mound of dirt in the centre.

“Spear, you ready?!” Shield basically screamed as he, Spear and Fist ran back into the street, making sure to remain within the Bow’s line of sight.

In another explosion, the entire area they had just been in was obliterated and in its place, a massive beast stood and roared. The roar knocked the Bow onto her butt and the others barely held on thanks to the Shield.

“NO… SHE NO HERE YET… NO LOVE!!!!” Screamed the Dovregubbe.

There was a moment as the Dovregubbe reached for something that had been buried alongside it and pulled out a massive tree trunk.

Everyone was stunned. At least, they were until the Dovregubbe roared again and charged at the three in the street.

In that instant, the Shield pulled out his bronze knife and cut deep into his left arm. Sap practically shot out as he grunted. The sap didn’t fall to the ground however, and instead bubbled for a split moment before forming a dome around the three. Every last bit of sap that came out of his body joined the rest, strengthening the dome until it was almost opaque.

Then the Troll smashed down his weapon against the Dome. The earth shook and the dome cracked, but more sap flowed out of the Shield’s arm as he grew pale and fell to his knees.

Before the Troll could strike the dome again, the Bow had regained her footing and shot it in one of its eyes. The arrow then crackled with white lightning, and the heavens parted just enough to rain their might down on the Troll. A great bolt of Lightning struck it and cooked its skin off, eliciting an ear-bursting scream of pain.

It cried and moaned in pain, then stomped on the ground hard in the Bow’s direction. Immediately, the shoddy hut collapsed and with it fell the Bow, getting trapped by the debris.

Wasting no breath, the troll turned and brought down its weapon once more on the Shield’s Dome, shattering the defense once and for all. The liquid that had crystallized into the dome evaporated and with it gone, the troll roared at the three Sylphi left. The Shield, pale as a ghost, eyes heavy and legs wobbling, stood up and braced his shield again.

The troll grabbed the shield and shook it around, the Sylphi flying off and crashing into a faraway hut, then it ate the bronze shield. “Shield!” Screamed the Fist, before turning to stare at the Troll, who was now raising his weapon to finish them off. “FUCKING THROW IT ALREADY!” The Fist screamed at the Spear.

So he did. His spear was like a shooting star made of pure lava as it shot towards the Troll and pierced its skull right between the eyes. It came out the other side and shot off into the distance.

All was quiet for a moment as the Troll froze in place. Then, the flesh on the troll’s face melted along with its eyes, and from the sockets and hole in its skull flowed the mush that had once been its brain.

It fell backwards, dead.

At the same time, the Spear collapsed onto his hands and knees, vomited, and then passed out.

The Fist, being the only one standing, sighed in relief. She went to check the Spear’s heartbeat and nodded to herself in satisfaction. As she began to think on what to do next, the leaves on the back of her neck rustled and she turned around to see dozens of Sylphi and Goblins pour into the settlement from the entrance. Her heart skipped a beat and she found herself taking a step back.

They didn’t stop moving, and instead broke into a run toward her.

She gulped hard and steeled her will. She was going to meet her fate well. The first thing she did was snap the Spear’s neck. Then, she ran over to the Bow, who was trapped beneath the debris. She looked at her half-conscious, crying friend in the eye, smiled gently, and struck her with a quick and painless channeled fist to the chest, stopping her heart and sending a shock throughout her entire nervous system. She died painlessly.

Next, she tried to escape the horde by going into an alleyway, but she was quickly cut off from escape by the horde.

A grim sense of certainty fell upon her, and she assumed her favorite stance. With the mad club and knife-wielding Sinners now approaching from two sides, she took a deep breath and channeled her fist once more, then tried to strike her own chest--Only to be interrupted as a heavy weight landed on top of her, throwing her to the floor. She screamed her lungs out as soon as she realized it was one of the Sinful Children on top of her, laughing madly into her face.

She kicked and struggled, but she couldn’t get him off. Soon, the horde piled up on her.

She wasn’t taken captive, oh no… But they did torture her for as long as they could before she died. At the hands of her fellow Sylphi, the Anchor’s Fist was broken and humiliated.

---

III

---

Weeks later, the village sent notice once more to the Guild... This time, the news of the Pines never returning from their mission made waves. The Guild then reached out to the Explorer Party closest to the area in order to task them with the mission of retrieving the Pines or confirming their fates... This Party turned out to be one consisting of two Sylphi and two Humans.

Summary

Arborean communities report to the Arborean Guild of Explorers and Guardians that several of their humans and some Sylphi have been going missing. They send a pair to investigate, the pair get captured and tortured but one of them escapes and warns the first village he finds. He then dies from infected wounds.

A day later, a group of veteran Explorers arrive with the mission to exterminate the Sinful Children, the group identified as being the one responsible for the disappearances. The Group, named the Pines, is a famous Party of Explorers originally from the snowier areas of the Anchor.

They reach the settlement where the Sinful Children live, find it deserted, but eventually stumble upon a buzzer IED, following an ambush from a Dovregubbe troll after the sunlight is blocked out by unnaturally dark clouds.

The team, being veterans, manage to take the troll down but not without heavy casualties. The only one left standing is a female Sylphi explorer called the Fist, but before she’s given time to think, a horde of Sinful Children pour into the settlement from the forest around and cut off all escape routes. She quickly decides to give her incapacitated friends merciful deaths, something she’s succesful in. But when she finally gets cornered and tries to commit suicide instead of being captured, she in taken down by a Sinner jumping down on top of her from a roof.

The Fist is then tortured to death over the course of several hours, all at the hands of her fellow love-maddened Sylphi.

Weeks later, notice of their failure reaches the Guild, and they task the closest available Explorer Party with confirming the Pines' fates and rescuing them if possible. This new Explorer Party turns out to be Gen Party.