Infamous Empath

The Cult

"His is blood, aye," said Daren. "It's a bit...coagulated, I know... Yours is juice, don't worry." He plopped something that looked like freshly mutilated pig flesh onto their plates. "Go on then!"

Daren groaned as he glanced at her hand clasping his shoulder. He turned and went behind the veil, returning with a towel. He tossed it to them. "Fine, bind him up with that. Sheesh."

Freeform Fantasy Roleplay (Anybody can just jump in.)

i'll be there eventually. im super busy.

bartenders and wenches and other NPCs can be used by anyone, just so you know

The Cult

@Skinner35 did you post twice or am i seeing double? lol

Where Verses Collide

Hi, I've been trying to get an RP like this off the ground forever lol.

So I wrote a novel in which the fictional main character, a writer, realizes that he is a fictional character, no different than the characters he created. So I (called in the story "The Author", but now called "The WorldWeaver.") sent an Author's Ambassador, someone who speaks for me, and as me, but has a melding of my personality and a fictional character's personality. Later, the Author's Avatar shows up, which is literally me in character form, except not using my real name.

Can I use one or more of these characters?

The Cult

@Atroposer@Skinner35

Daren glanced back and forth between them, his mask of insanity momentarily replaced by cautious watchfulness and emotional insight. He nodded and slowly placed the knife on the table.

"Let's eat," he said.

Daren went over to a bookcase and pulled a book, opening the secret door. Entering for but a couple of seconds, the apparently psychotic Irishman rolled out a cart of uncooked, bloody meat. He stopped the cart on his side of the table and picked up a tray of flesh. He dropped it on the table. Humming to himself, Daren then picked up a goblet of red fluid. He placed it on the table in front of Arin. He placed a similar, albeit lighter color red, goblet of drink in front of Kim.

Then he picked up a couple of plates and placed them on the table, still humming some classical tune to himself.

The Cult

unfortunately i have to go to sleep now. but i hope to continue tomorrow. soon, some of the mystery will be revealed. muahahahaaaa....

*slowly backs out of the room, tripping over my own feet*

The Cult

"Oh this is so exciting!" Daren said, leaning across the table and toying with his blade. "The answer to your questions is...well, the head bird's British so...ya know, some British are in the Sons of Winter as well. If ya live long enough, ye may figure out my exact purpose, and why they call me the general."

Standing up again, Daren leaned over the table, looking Kim up and down as he replied to her question. "Ransom? Oh, like I said before, we have plenty of money, Kimmy. No need for that."

Once again, he turned to Arin. "Oh, and the crazy bloody face and open robe...is to distract ye from the two guards that just walked in behind ye with syringes."

It was human nature to at the very least glance out the corner of one's eye, even if they didn't completely turn around. As soon as Arin's eyes shifted from Daren, he drove the knife deep into his shoulder, and twisted, and then yanked it out and bounced back to the other side of the table.

Daren laughed maniacally, licking the blood from the blade. There was nobody behind them.

The Cult

oh. i know... i know... }:]

The Cult

haha Daren likes Arin XD

The Cult

@Atroposer@Skinner35

The Irish general sat down on the other side of the two captives, who sat next to each other, their backs to the door. "Escape," he said with a twitching grin. "Yes, that be a natural hope, aye? Let me paint a picture for ye."

Daren suddenly leaped out of his chair and onto the wooden table, his hands in the air. He spun around, making his robe blossom around him.

With a laugh, he said, "Ye're in the middle of the arctic!" He knelt before Arin and smirked. "Can't ye tell by how cold it is?" In another fit of laughter, he concealed himself with his cloak and leaped off the table. "Who paid for this, ye wonder? A powerful American politician and his British ex-wife! They call him the Purifier because he purifies our souls...of good and evil!" His white-knuckled hands gripped the back of his chair as he leaned forward, breathing hard and staring back and forth at each of them with a devilish grin. "So...play the game. Pretend to give us what we want until ye think ye can escape, but where would ye go? Ye'd freeze to death before ye got twenty feet! And even if ya didn't, ye'd starve or thirst to death, yeah? Yeah!"

His laughter echoed in the room as he spun around and then sat down in his chair. He looked back and forth between the two. "But it's no fun if ya don't play along. So go on, ask me something." He giggled maniacally and started playing with a knife that he'd somehow managed to produce, perhaps from the chair or his cloak.