Liaison

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

A business card as blue as the heaven’s skies slid across the reception desk. A blackened set of long, but carefully maintained nails precariously picked up the card reading “Ansegisel Exorcism Services.” Eyes squinted, a blip of laughter revealed a vampiric set of fangs like granite. The demoness with skin like industrial concrete put two and two together. Quickly, the receptionist reeled herself back in. Her bald head turned one-eighty degrees, locking into place. Now multiple pupilless crystal eyes stacked like totems hiding their hyena-like gleam and intentions examined the cat girl thoroughly.

You would think the idea of an assailant openly targeting the boss stuck some concern through her cold veins but it was quite the opposite. Criminally underpaid and overworked, Galle never went above and beyond her duties. It was a mere receptionist job and chaos wasn't exactly foreign to Aeternus. The disguised feline figure before her was bound to cause trouble and what would she gain from potentially messing with angels? Better to leave that to management. However, that wasn't to say she wasn't a fan of a little antics. After all, she's a demon.

Every twenty-four hours, a phone book-sized newspaper eloquently penned by Dupin himself of the happenings of the hotel arrived at Galle's desk around this time. This cat, though fairly innocent-looking, was sure to make a few headlines to entertain her during the next shift. Approaching a casino in the name of God was brazen. Let alone this casino. The demon's curiosity got the best of her.

“God, you say? Yes, sure. That appears to be very important, Miss– What was your name again? Anyways, due to repairs after the power outage and unscheduled maintenance, the main elevator is out of service. If you would like to go to the surface level of the resort where Master Vileiro resides, the fastest way would be to enter the Grand Elevator Hall of Elysium and work your way to the top. Hurry now. Shoo–” There wasn't a single slit of space for a response.

From Samantha's peripheral, a murder of crows carrying a newspaper the size of folded bed comforters approached. The receptionist rushed her but at least she gave her an answer. A spiraling bookcase cracked westward, revealing yet another avenue into the sprawling expanse of the casino. Enter the Hall.

Off rip, the architecture defied conventional geometry as hundreds of elevators ascend and descend with mesmerizing unpredictability. Each cab, though anchored in mechanical precision, served as a conduit to a kaleidoscope of pocket dimensions—small realms where the improbable and the sinister coalesce. Many of the hall's inhabitants found themselves on a trek just to get to their hotel rooms gambling with their time as the elevator system proved obtuse and unpredictable.

Nevertheless, humans, demons, all of the above, stepped right through the many doors, ascending towards a ceiling stretching beyond eyes could reasonably see, littered with an ensemble of synchronized Royal Hanover chandeliers majestically weaving overhead. A circular bar centered the enormous room with a mild-mannered, inverted flesh mangled tentacle worm abomination whipping up dozens of specialized cocktails simultaneously with ease.

Many of the elevators lead to hotel halls and rooms operating like trick rooms but one thing remained constant. No matter how absurd, obtuse, or uninhabitable a room may be, there is always a window leading back out to the chaotic Aeternus streets.

A stone-faced gargoyle approached the nearest elevator to the girl, making eye contact before crushing several goblinoids trying to make space in an elevator already packed like sardines. “Going up?”

Samantha seemingly was on her way to the delight of Galle at reception but before she managed to turn a page Meowlexander approached the desk. At first, she ignored him, eyes gravitating to today's front-page story.

“EALDORMAN SARCOEN RETURNING TO AETERNUS - The Return Of Parooz Sparks a Family Sit Down.”

It wasn't until the man politely inquired about the whereabouts of his acquaintance did she move her enormous newspaper to the side.

Her head cranked to the side several degrees again, this time bearing an unamused expression, suddenly in possession of long hair. Her eyes slowly stuttered into a roll and back. “Another one?” The purr in his accent grated her stone ears. Galle couldn't believe her luck. The nerve of these people having the gall to have her do her job. It wouldn't take rocket science to figure out who he was looking for, but something about him irked her. He gave her the ick with his presentably responsible demeanor. “He must be trying to stop her?” That's no fun.

Taking into account they very well may be angels, Galle toed the line instead of outright lying, throwing the girl's whiskered pal slightly off her trail. Elysium is huge after all. The receptionist's head snapped back to her default position.

“Ah, yes. Your friend left a card here. Ansegisel Exorcism Services, was it? What was your na–Actually, that's not too important. Off you go! She probably is already several floors up.”

Tremors shook the lobby as the towering Duc d'Orleans Breguet Sympathique Grandfather Clock on the right cracked itself far enough from the wall revealing an alternative entrance to the hall of elevators placing Meowlexander a football field's length away from where Samantha entered.

Upon entry, twisting bloodworm appendages with pulsing green veins below their translucent pink skin revealed their four black hooked fangs to the man. This was not done in a brandishing manner as the voice greeting him came off shockingly quaint and demure. "Welcome, dear guest. I’m so glad you’ve arrived safely… Before you settle in, might I offer you a drink from our splendid bar? If you need anything or just wish to relax, please let me know. I’m here to ensure your stay is pleasant."

Hello.

My long lost brother is back...

Purr-fect Betrayal

An orchestra of rattling pots and pans erupted from the kitchen as Victoria scavenged for the right size. Intending to make the perfect cat treats for when Mr. Whiskers came back, like any nine-year-old left unattended in a kitchen, she created an absolute mess whisking a battery concoction. Debatably edible, it was filled with random things with no rhyme or reason other than the child's personal preference on what tasted good. Wrapped up in child-like joy, the heiress, for a moment felt relieved of the stress of the situation as she tasked away, failing to notice the woman slip right into the kitchen behind her. Despite the friendly tone, Victoria shrieked. The second two eerily familiar hands touched her back, PTSD from the last time someone got behind her triggered a fight-or-flight response.

Tossed was the multicolored batter of who knows what over the girl's shoulder. The nine-year-old snatched herself out of Ryuko's grip, falling on her butt as she turned around. Unsure if she hit the stranger or not until she got a good look at her, Victoria was puzzled with the sight of some Blasian woman bowing, sincerely apologizing. Wide-eyed, the girl had a simple question. “Who are you?”

She clearly wasn't one of the green women Mr. Whiskers told her about.

Whereas the last scene might be the restart of wholesome beginnings, a scene quite the opposite resumed on the other side of the city. The latest domino was about to fall as a result of the last Orichalca ship's excursion. One about to knock over several more at once as word quickly got around.

Dozens of wobbled kneed laboring men with floating halos around their necks like dog collars profusely sweated under the rays of the Aesteria sun. The palace’s crystalline windows only amplified the light turning the room into a sauna despite having many openings. Even under harsh conditions they serenaded a lounging, eight-foot woman sipping a wine unique to these lands made of melon-sized grapes fermented in the golden sun with the soft breeze generated from waving palm leaves.

The woman perched on a shimmering throne cushioned with pillows stuffed with a bitsy portion of diced Gravlari feathers sat not just unamused, but impatiently. Even at the brink of exhaustion, a few of the men slaving away couldn't help but notice her beautiful gleaming skin likened to a flawless pear. The aura she gave off was quite different in comparison to the average Orichalca Amazon. Appearances aside, she had seraphim wings bedazzled with magical ring piercings, relics passed down from one empress to the next. In total, there were six each possessing a unique power.

Despite being decked down in the finest materials and accessories found across the galaxy, unlike the rest of her tribe, she didn't subscribe to their brand of hubris. Solicia did not think lowly of men. Most of the time it was just an act. Often behind her stone expressions she gave to the prisoners was a small ounce of pity.

“Maybe if I fan the best she'll give me a chance,” Sassayan, the once proud samurai of Fortis thought looking up at her. It was a shame. He had been broken down mentally to lusting for her as a life goal. Serving several life sentences, It was the only thing the lanky warrior could strive for as unrealistic as it was. No longer did he aspire to escape. He fanned to the point where the Queen’s enormous kinky tresses billowed in the wind. However, she failed to notice. There was only one thing on her mind.

“Queen Solica, we have terrible news! A ship of robotic pirates has waged an assault on the grand banquet hall! Injuries are piling up as they aim to neutralize the threat!” An older woman in an outfit, one part loose fitting toga and other parts skimpy top underneath barged into the throne room.

Rolling her eyes, Solica took another sip from her wine glass, taking her time as she sat it on a saucer on the back of a kneeled man as still as a table.

“I don't suppose you need my input on how to engage with a few pirates, Dolata. There are plenty of high-ranking warriors available.”

“That's the problem! Many of them were in Sha’Rema’s Chancery debating courtship rights of the promising man we acquired on our last excursion. He has outwitted all of them and fled after his violent escape!

“Escape?” It was like a flip switch in Solicias's mind. “What do you mean, escape?”

“He's a quite capable fighter. He broke Maletesma's nose not once but twice?”

“Twice?” A subtle quivering sensation stung the Queen's lower body.

“Thalira is leading a unit and is engaging with him but he's already so close to the Banquet. He might be in cahoots with the pirates.”

“He's out running our designated pursuit uni—AAAAUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” A breathly moan escaped her.

Everyone stood in silence, unsure what to say engaging in speed tag of eye contact across all corners of the room.

Impervious to embarrassment the Orichalca Queen inquired further.

“Did you personally confront him?”

“He kicked me in the gut prior to his esca—”

The woman couldn't even finish her reply before Solicia jolted out of her seat, lifting Dolata before taking a deep whiff of her draping garments. It reeked of lowly Krillians but another scent, more dominant, was there.

Solica's eyes took on a ravenous possessed look. Her enormous angelic six wings sprouted, unleashing a gale sweeping her unprepared servants off their feet. The Queen ascended to the skies, taking in the crisp, clean air of the Aesterian jungle. Above the palace the illustrious bejeweled garments on her swayed gently with the wind, flowing like golden ribbons of silk around her lithe form for all to see. She searched for the slightest hint of the fleeing man's scent with her heightened sense of smell. There was no mistaking it. There it was heading towards the banquet hall giving Thalira's tracking unit the slips.

This was particularly impressive given that once a target was in sight, the platoon's ability to launch arrows tethered to their spirit at the speed of sound rarely missed. Prey were like a fish in a pool attempting to evade multiple harpoon snipers working in tandem with until eventually being struck and reeled in by a dominating force. A glimmering laser show of golden trails left by their arrows lingered in the skies well after being fired.

It wasn't clear if he had been caught or not. Were they to fail, Solicia wouldn't. He will be hers.

Meanwhile, Merse continued his panther-esque brand of snooping, flying under the radar eyeing an oversized plate of Salmon Niçoise Salad. Rummaging through a million and one plans on how to get his greedy paws on the dish, all were thrown to the wayside the second his hyper-sensitive whiskers tingled. Before the information broker cracked his neck, an explosion near the entrance wobbled his footing. Molten metals flung around like overly wet clay in a pottery class as Metallo’s ship fired away with an intense blast of heated plasma liquefying the gold jungle gym structure cradling the structures entrance.

Multiple levels of historic architectural brilliance, permanently scarred in mere seconds by the band of pirates ramming and tearing their way into the hall greeted by hundreds of ear-splitting horrified screams at decibels agonizing to Merse's ears. The rumble could be felt as far as the quarters where Ryuko and Victoria were stationed. After the dust settled, the robotic crew stood tall in their best action movie poster poses, wielding a variety of unique firearms, traps, and gadgets. The pirates were ready to take on the role of liberators in this matriarchal dystopia and free the thousands of imprisoned men sentenced here from all across the cosmos. What would have been a hero’s welcome from thousands of prisoners rallying behind their cause failed to start only because of one very crucial miscalculation.

This wasn’t the prison.

Too late to turn back now. A band of pirates fired away, downing several Orichalca warriors while several others deflected the beams off their golden wristbands charging forward. It's like Captain Metallo and crew struck a wasp nest the way one Amazon after the next came out in droves. Many took to the skies, tossing tridents charged with radiant auras, many missing, creating small craters the second they struck the marble flooring. Others tossed weighted nets of ropes funneling lightning in attempts to capture members of the crew. One one young warrior named Aletheia stood back, connecting her fingers to create a triangle locked right on the captain. The amazon absorbed ambient energy in the area, as Aesteria was abundant with it, focusing the energy to a single point before unleashing a solar beam of vortexing yellow, orange and red light with the intent to knock the captain hundreds of feet back and even off the cliff. The battlecries filling the air signaled all out war, and witness to it all was Merse, casually stuffing his face, chowing down in the background. The information broker figured he’d stick around until the pirates forced the elite warriors to enter the arena. The crew of robots made for quite a convenient distraction.

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

There was little reason for a frost devil to feel the chills, yet, Vileiro documented every goosebump raising the fine hairs on his neck. His mind skated the rink of Cocytus. Looking down, the crystalline scape of flash-frozen entities leering at his spirit was enough to drive any man insane. It was a good thing Vileiro was not a man, but a devil chiseled, molded, birthed from the very ice he stood on. Like a grand statute of marble, he held his head high amongst demons, emboldened by the stature granted to him by his superior. His earthly persona often betrayed him, constantly overthinking, worried, and indecisive. Here? When Sarcoen addressed him, he felt empowered.

There was little reason for a succubus devil to feel shame, yet before him, Ixxa felt nakedness. An act Minos failed heartedly to accomplish. The unreasoning winds and torrential rain of the second circle stained her face with mascara, souls whirling about in this hurricane of lust in which several were her handy work from earlier. It was precisely the shot in the demoness needed. She stood tall. Sarcoen addressed her and she replied.

“You chased Sepias, sentenced him, labeled him cafone, and not only is he back, he is underboss again. I know better than to question you, but I can't help but feel out of the loop. However, I know one thing. You wouldn't unleash him unless you felt you could control him. When will you return to Aeternus?”

A guttural laugh, shaking the hells rattled Aeternus like a low-magnitude quake. This high up, Vileiro watched frozen books clang off the floor like unbreakable blocks of ice.

“You know me well, my child.”

Speaking from the same urge, Vileiro and Ixxa engaged with different parts of the same entity simultaneously.

“I have another question. Something that has been eating at me. I want to know what happened in the last war against heaven.”

“...”

“Forgive me Ealdo—”

“No, you should know. Heed my words as I predate time itself. I, an entity of duality, the embodiment of contradiction, born from the same primordial chaos, yet destined to diverge. Two sides of the same coin, my sons, of prophecy entwined in my conflict. I left much of my children in the dark.

In the realm of the ancient ones, the number two bore the mark of Wisdom, a concept encapsulated in the words "Wise" and "Dome." To "wise your dome" was to transcend the limitations of ignorance, to enlighten the blind, the deaf, and the dumb. But such notions were mere folly, feeble attempts to break free from the shackles of darkness that enshroud Lucifer's society and way of life. We, the eternal ones, who have witnessed the dawn of creation and shall endure until the final reckoning, scoff at such frail forms of logic.

Before I knelt the mighty Seraphim, the Cherubim, and the Ophanim, their divine arrogance a testament to their alliance with the Almighty. Yet, their hubris only emboldened me, the now forgotten one who spurred many devils prior to my wake now spurned.

Came Michael, his blade, ablaze with heavenly light, a beacon of contempt searing my flesh and spirit alike. His demeaning radiance split me asunder, weakening me with each relentless strike. It was as Uriel had foreseen. Had I reacted a hair sooner, had I crushed his throat, squeezing, choking the life out of the smug expression he held over me, we might be living in a very different world. All remember Michael. All laud Michael, some workshop him through idolatry. They paint our bout as one-sided. Disrespectfully so. After our battle, I championed my demise as a proud general of Hell. War comes with loss, and sacrifice. Aeternus would be a mere thought if eternal slumber greeted me. Death did not. Something far worse.

Showing mercy to a demon is the ultimate affront. A mockery of our very essence. Yet, in that moment of weakness, I was shown clemency, a gesture that haunts me still, for I have not forgotten the aftertaste of shame. Pride befalls man but a demon's pride is far stronger. It isn't hate I would describe I have for the heavens. My sentiment exists before the truest sense of the word. Every part of my collective malice is fed by the economy of souls, slowly revitalizing each part of me scattered throughout the circles of Hell. Hold on to what I bestow upon you at this very moment. A Sit-down Is in order. Prepare the Hotel for my presence.”

Neo Babylon

Two pairs of eyes locked. One, a fiery set of dark brown eyes below determined brows without a shadow of a doubt in their passionate gaze. The other, flustered red cheeks beyond their brush applied blush, below a confused, deep, cerulean set. An overwhelmingly collective gasp overtook the red carpet's audience and partakers.

Perhaps it was the collective acknowledgment of witnessing the rare spectacle many claim to have experienced but only a few have. The divine luxury of love at first sight. Red and white rose petals serenely peppered the beautiful scene as many twisted their necks searching for the source.

“At this glorious gala in which the moonlight caresses your pale skin, I now know. Under this atrium of stars, it is clear. A thousand sonnets grow in my heart for you shine brighter than them all.”

Kissing the silky opera-gloved hand nestled into the gentle embrace of his palm, out of thin air, on one knee, Edris presented the fullest, most lush, bouquet of roses to have met this woman he had just met eyes with. Dozens of camera shutters rang off, capturing this moment between the hitman and Jadwiga a hundred times over, for millions of impressions, for thousands of media outlets. You could almost mistake it for applause.

“Edris, you sly devil. One might think you're from Aeternus. You've outdone yourself again.” Mentally patting himself on the back, his Buloke-solid confidence was sure to woo the popular socialite. No woman escaped his charm but the pheromones from her direction seemed overmatched by a hostile odor. Surely such a wrathful scent couldn't have come from Jadwiga in her wondrous, violet, jewel-embezzled gown glowing in ethereal beauty. Only in raising his bowed head, whipping back his silver-ish lavender hair did Edris notice Jadwiga's date to the ball red as a tomato with anger.

Veins bulging, this monstrously tall man, well over eight feet tall, but fairly proportionate, practically flexed out of his teal three-piece suit. Off came his collar button, popping out of tension at such velocity it detached some unfortunate influencer's retina on impact. With the crowd paying no mind to that, an intense stare-off between Edris and Vellotoni Versarache visibly sparked. The crowd went quiet, tension thick as oatmeal left out for half a day.

…

“I'm not apologizing.”

Edris' palm held an imaginary grip in the shape of a hilt as a single vine crawled from underneath his gold cufflinks, sprouting a flower blooming into a sword. Then it was black. Surely he did not murder a man in blind rage. It was against the assassins code.

Only the sensation of a cold hand pressing against his hollow frame did Edris feel anything. Lids open but sightless, the same cold hand dropped something into his skull. Until then, it felt like the concept of vision was foreign to him. Another hand crept near his face, doubling it. The same hands navigated his sternum, installing piece after piece as if he were a creation at the hands of Geppetto. Edris thought perhaps, this is how God designed us all, until the moment came when we finally were seemingly complete, later carrying our limp frames, hooking us to a conveyor belt. To where? A journey back to them, but only after experiencing the world whilst bearing the intentional gift and curse of life. With pleasure comes great pain. The pain of knowing this is unattainable makes us human, yet, internally… Edris challenged that. Until now he only felt one with Mother Nature. Who was this? Blasphemy. Before he could oust these thoughts, an unfamiliar voice fancied the thought of a destination to his psyche. Where? Edris would know once saw it. It was near, but where was he?

The flow of petals stopped, laying soggy on the top of the murky marsh staining the hitman’s white, heeled leather boots. A rancid smell assaulted the nostrils of Edris' souring face, distracting from not only the dream he awoke from, but the not so distant chitters, crunching and tearing. Quick hands allowed him to salvage his impeccably stylish tweed suit aside from a few splashes of muck. Springing up immediately, it was only so long Edris could watch his hand model-caliber hands slowly sink into the mud. A line of dirt packed every distal edge of his nails. It was already the worst-case scenario. What if…someone…saw him? Whoever did this had to pay, and soon. It was a good thing he had an idea where to look.

Looking up, the grayed skies could be mistaken as smoke. As dense as the forest was, the fog affected the visibility of the colossal mangroves standing mightily in the bog. At first, Edris thought he may have gotten something in his mouth but it was just the aftertaste of the absurdly moist swamp air. Following him were squelching sounds of his trot out of the thick mire of mud he found himself as unfortunate to spawn in. Each step sunk him deeper into the morass of uncertainty. Getting back to the Gala was an impossibility at this point.

The Land of Skara: and the Songtale of the Breaking

Phaedra was thin but not frail. Presence very much slender, yet resilient. Bearing the weight of her torment without surrendering, her spirit, akin to wilting flowers in a vase, held both beauty and sorrow in delicate balance. She sat moonstruck at the rail of a bridge overseeing a riverbank. Behind her roseate eyes veiled by her silken, platinum-blonde bangs, her repressed memories resurface, besieged by guilt over the great tragedy engulfing the Luminae Academy of Mystical Arts.

An inquisitive sable darted around the area, climbing up the young girl’s shoulders, foraging through her kinky tresses draping her backside. It ran her pockets for a few nuts. Phaedra paid it no mind. Head tilted, the small creature observed the mourning sorceress and her radiant, almost aubergine complexion bathing in the moonlight. It could tell something was wrong but quickly fled at the arrival of a rumbling carriage.

The doors of a patchy wooden crate masquerading as a luxury coach swung open, ushering a vacuuming vortex, snatching Phaedras's gray sarong with such authority it whipped her around like a roll of paper towels. Wide-eyed and flustered, she caught no glimpse of the inside before it swallowed her whole. The rhythmic clops of horses casually strolling away with her appeared to be in no rush once the doors closed. In total darkness, she felt wedged between a stiff old couch and a rickety chair.

"Hello, odd maiden! Don't mind my get up. Doing a bit of research." A faint amber spark developed, revealing her captors. A jovial wooly-mustached jester passed her a small, blank sheet of parchment and a huge woman whose rotund figure greatly strained the seams of her colorful attire. “Hello, Lovely.” Her overly caked cheeks already left residue on Phaedra's clothes and the liter of perfume she doused herself with did little to alter the fact that the carriage smelled like a hotbox of sweat. “Trust us, we’re not kidnapping you,” they said in unison. It was hard for Phaedra to lower her guard completely, but her gut surmised there was perhaps some method to their lunacy.

The paper forcefully planted in her hand burned with an ongoing script of orange text, spelling out the message, “The Kaiage of Knowledge.”

The strange woman introducing herself as “Alegora'' placed her forearm and hand of many rolls on Phaedra's left knee, meeting Phaedra’s upturned eyes with a concerned heterochromatic gaze. Finally getting to the meat and potatoes, Alegora revealed “We know the attack of the Karnagebeast wasn't a natural occurrence. We have reason to believe many of your classmates are still alive and not only is High Chancellor Seldora complicit, we suspect she is a doppelganger.”

Nothing exemplified Phaedra's fear over the subject more than her deafening silence.

Once again confronted by not-so-distant traumas far from being healed, the young woman’s quixotic quest she steadily ran from presented itself to her in yet another way.

Her eyes shut. Reliving phantasmagoric nightmares, the dawn's sky resplendent with hues of pink, and orange whimpered out as tenebrous clouds ran roughshod over any ray of hope the new day provided. To the untrained eye, a storm brewed. Phaedra lamented the times itself as came lighting, thunderous roars existing only as the product of unchecked imagination followed. On this Lundros morning, she awoke from one nightmare into another. A tangle of Wyrms, exterior like oiled scale mail interwoven in a sinister dance, descended upon the enchanted spires of The Luminae Academy of Mystical Arts, unfurling their twisted serpentine forms in an act of indiscriminate terror. They sodomized the school’s mullioned windows, razing the corridors, invasively rattling the entire dorm with a faint hum like the presence of an unseen stampede. Low-humming until it wasn't, with a deafening crash, the sound overtook Phaedra’s capacity to think let alone speak. The entire wall on which her door was hinged ripped away with the raiding serpent leaving behind a jagged maw of destruction–

“Or so, that's the theory, Ha-Ha-Hahaha!” Alegora's boisterous laugh rocking the carriage to the point where it startled the lugging horses brought Phaedra back to reality.

Eyes wide, dumped on her ass in the middle of a cobblestone pathway, Phaedra realized she was no longer in the carriage but set right in the middle of the path leading to the cursed academy she had been running from. The horse carriage that transported her trotting in the opposite way left her a parting message.

“Keep that card close. You'll know where to find us as well as the others there, beloved.

Their message was pretty blunt. Go to school. It was something Phaedra already knew she had to do in order to save her classmates but now, knowing she perhaps wasn't carrying the weight alone, the task felt less daunting.

The Land of Skara: and the Songtale of the Breaking

Additions to The Lore

Mørkheimr

Mørkheimr, a realm shrouded in perpetual midnight, veiled its shadowy forests with swirling mists only illuminated by their blood-red moon, Svarthrafn. The air crackles with dark energy, and an eerie silence hangs over the land like a heavy cloak. The landscape is rugged and untamed, with jagged cliffs and winding rivers cutting through the obsidian terrain.

In Mørkheimr, what's left of Phaedra's elven ancestors, the Netheri are said to dwell within sprawling citadels carved from the living rock, homes hidden deep within the shadowy recesses. These dark elves have had centuries to study the power of Obscuria, the mystical realm of shadows and darkness. Naturally leaking into their realm it produces a nexus of dark energy that permeates the very fabric of reality. Guardians of ancient knowledge and gatekeepers of long-forgotten secrets, in bouts fueled by selfishness and greed, they waged war against each other which is why they were seldomly seen in Skara. Their culture was one flooded with distrust and betrayal. Because Netheri have evolved to be attuned to the dark rhythms of Obscuria and draw strength from its depths, they are considered untrustworthy, though they hardly had any time to antagonize Skarans.

Characters

Phaedra

Name: Phaedra Hawthorne
Alias: Mourner of the Moonlight
Age: 20
Height: 5’6
Weight: 118
Sex: Female
Race: Human - Netheri Hybrid (Dark Elf)

Appearance:

Phaedra is a slender yet young woman whose expression at times bears the weight of recent trauma while still managing to be beautiful. She has roseate eyes veiled by silken, platinum-blonde bangs, and her radiant, almost aubergine complexion glows in the moonlight highlighting her Afrocentric features.

Weapons/Kit:

Serenelle: With every swing, every parry, every strike, Serenelle sings with the echo of Phaedra's will, amplifying her resolve through strikes capable of severing spirit. As much as the moon resurfaced dark memories, Phaedra deemed Serenelle's elegant, sharp edge like a crescent moon. Her bestowed dussack, an heirloom that sat dormant for decades thought to be lost is the only thing that connects her to her lineage, a descendant of dark elves known as Netheri.

From Mørkheimr, coveted by many for its legendary properties. This blade which also functioned as a spell-casting staff is said to be forged from the darkest shadows of Obscuria, infused with the essence of Mørkheimr’s mysterious moon, Svarthrafn. Phaedra has always kept the origins of Serenelle shrouded in secrecy, revealing little about why she possesses such a rare and coveted artifact from her homeland she’s never been. The few who know of it in Skara view it as an omen of death, while many Netheri view it as a critical weapon to unify all the elves under a single ideology. Regardless of the truth, Phaedra taps into Obscuria's dark energies through Serenelle, channeling its power to enhance her abilities. Only recently has she been able to overcome the fear of utilizing such a dark weapon in an attempt to avenge her fallen classmates.

THE MULTIVERSE DIRECTORY

THE MULTIVERSE DIRECTORY

The Multiverse is an expansive, interconnected web of diverse realms, timelines, and dimensions. It is the ultimate tapestry where every conceivable world and narrative can coexist, intersect, and evolve within roleplay. Within the Multiverse, countless stories unfold simultaneously, each contributing to the grand mosaic of collective imagination. Whether it's a high-fantasy epic, a dystopian saga, or a slice-of-life tale, all narratives find a home here, influencing and being influenced by the universe around them. It’s a place where groups of all themes have the opportunity to encounter and even face off in epic tales reshaping history, leaving their mark across the cosmos. Ideally, players will compete for territories and assets or just create expansive interweaving stories.

GROUPS

Roleplay Groups are the core units within the Omniverse. Each group consists of a collective of storytellers who collaborate to create intricate and immersive narratives. To formally join the Omniverse, Roleplay Groups should submit the following:

Group Name: The official name of your Roleplay Group.
Group Overview: A brief description of the group's thematic focus, narrative style, and any unique characteristics.
Group Members: A list of participants, including their preferred roles and characters.

Example Submission:

Group Name: The Celestial Voyagers
Group Overview: A group dedicated to exploring space opera narratives, focusing on interstellar politics, alien cultures, and cosmic mysteries.

Group Members:
- Player A: Captain Aurora [Hyperlink To profile in Character Tab]
- Player B: Xylor the Navigator [Hyperlink To profile in Character Tab]
- Player C: Dr. Zynthor [Hyperlink To profile in Character Tab]

- Locations: Location 1 [Hyperlink To profile in OOC]

- Group Assets: Asset 1 [Hyperlink To profile in Character tab]

LOCATIONS

Settings are the distinct worlds or locations where the narratives take place. Each setting adds a new layer to the Multiverse, enriching it with unique environments, histories, and cultures. To submit a setting, provide the following details:

- Critical Location: Planet Zolteria [Hyperlink To profile in Location Tab - OCC Tab]
- Sub Location: Kelloron City [Hyperlink To profile in Location Tab - OCC Tab]
- Sub Location: The Laboratory of Lon [Hyperlink To profile in Location Tab - OCC Tab]

Setting Name: The official name of the location or world.
Setting Description: A detailed account of the setting, including its geography, inhabitants, key landmarks, and any pertinent lore.

Relevant Threads: Links to existing threads or posts where the setting has been developed or used in narrative.

CHARACTERS

Characters are the heart of any story, bringing the settings and plots to life with their actions, decisions, and growth. To introduce a character into the Omniverse, include the following:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race:
Group: If any
Tier: Ex: Mid to High

Character Description: A detailed description of your character.

Skills, powers, and abilities:

Ability 1: Ex: Flight - The user can fly by using magic/spells, by emitting a burst of magical energy into the ground that sends them flying into the air, user can also do this by producing an aura of the magical energy which would levitate them, or a beam of the magical energy to the ground, but it can also be wings, producing wings from magical energy. [Low]

Ability 2: Ex: Force Fields: The user can create magical constructs are capable of blocking or impeding approaching objects and nullifying attacks, including physical and energy based attacks or even repelling or reflecting them, as well being used as a means of containment to imprison others. [Mid]

Ability 3: Ex: Mind of the Chosen - The user can manipulate an extraordinarily potent and immense variation of telekinesis, capable of enacting destruction and creation on a grand scale. This formidable power primarily interacts with objects and entities visible to the naked eye, excluding the microscopic realm of atoms, molecules, and subatomic particles. [High]

Equipment

Item 1: Ex: Sword of Kusanagi - The Kusanagi Sword is a legendary sword owned by Orochimaru. He retrieves this sword by opening his mouth and extending a snake which then opens its mouth and produces it. Orochimaru was seen producing the sword handle first so he could use it freely, or blade first to attack his opponent instantly.

The sword can quickly extend and retract its blade to attack from long distances, be controlled telekinetically according to Orochimaru's command, and cut through almost anything. Even Enma, who is able to transform into a diamond-hard staff, noted that the Kusanagi blade would leave him considerably sore. The sword has been seen transforming into a small snake and returning to Orochimaru. [Low]

Item 2: Ex: The Ultimate Nullifier - An item described as "the universe's most devastating weapon." As such, the Ultimate Nullifier has the ability to completely and utterly eliminate any target the wielder chooses (through violation of the law of conservation of mass), and—if the wielder's mind isn't powerful enough—the wielder themself. Its effectiveness is heavily dependent upon the concentration, knowledge, and mindset of the wielder. Ordinarily, it has the power to at least destroy a universe. In the hands of a being with an extremely powerful intellect, such as Galactus, the Ultimate Nullifier can destroy entire timelines from beginning to end or instantly nullify (and paradoxically recreate) a Multiverse. [High]

Character History:

In hider box

Here

Threads participated:

Ex: Relevant Threads
- "The Trials of Seraphina" (link)
- "The Battle for Lysandra" (link)

Joining The Multiverse

To formally join the Omniverse, please post your submissions in this designated thread, following the formats provided above. This is not a requirement, however, as everyone is free to do what they want with their threads and stories. We may work on an approval method and consistent judgment criteria for threads and fights but this is still in the early conceptual phases. This can also be an official profile and settings dump for people to reference for people who prefer to fight on discords.

Groups IC - Locations OOC - Profiles Character Tab

THE MULTIVERSE DIRECTORY

Place Holder

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

1 of 4 posts I plan to drop soon. Stay tuned.