Current
That was the worst three months of my life. Health is close to normal again. Here's to making the insurance company cry!
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2 yrs ago
"Your copay today is $20,000" How about no.
3
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3 yrs ago
Well, the "I am but an ally" to "queer af" pipeline is real.
Bio
I have gone by many names over my life, and the one I go by here is Nori.
I am a non-binary individual who has a love of participating in these stories and creating my own. I am incredibly chronically ill. If my illness flares up too much I may be pulled away.
The room fell into a moment of silence for the destroyed bust, save for the faint shuffle of shoes on the ground and the occasional nervous cough. Lena leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, as she surveyed the small group of people who had gathered. Her eyes landed on a short, stocky figure with damp hair and a faint smell of lake water clinging to them. Beside them stood a half-elf clutching the remains of what had once been a cherry pie, now reduced to a sad, smushed mess.
Lena couldn’t resist raising the mood. She listened as everyone introduced themself and waited for her moment to strike. Eventually, a smell wafted her way and she had it.
“Hey, Cailean,” she called out, her voice dripping with mock concern. “I love the smell of your cologne, is that Eau de Dockwater? It’s very,” Lena flashed a genuine smile, “fresh. Good thinking on the pie, though, who would’ve thought we would be down one already.”
Her eyes flashed to Jackson who simply shook his head. He had always told her that her jokes could sometimes go from good-natured fun to mean quickly, and judging by his reaction she may be perceived as mean. Lena did not like that and she knew she had to change the story.
“It was dark in here and Jackson was hearing voices and seeing shadows,” Lena forgot to mention that it was she who heard the voice, and she paused as she pointed towards the destroyed bust, “he got scared and the bust was what he took that fear out on. A sad story.”
“That is not how I remember it going,“ Jackson said as he crossed his arms. “I recall-“
“Shush, shush, shush” Lena started but paused as she heard a tapping sound.
*Tap* *Tap* *Tap*
Lena turned her head to the doorway to the next room. The tapping sound was harsh and sounded like a thin object striking the tile floor and it sounded like it was coming from above them. The room fell silent as measured footsteps echoed down a staircase and filled the room of these would-be mages. The steps continued downward, out of sight, but each one was deliberate and measured. Eventually, they stopped just around the corner and the room was once again silent. Then, a man turned the corner and the group was face-to-face with The Archivist.
He was an imposing figure, tall and lean, who carried with him an air of calculated precision that bordered on arrogance. A neatly trimmed beard framed his sharp features, and his piercing eyes seemed to dissect the room with a single, dismissive glance. Dressed in a tailored suit that looked like it belonged to another era, he carried himself with the kind of authority that made it clear he expected obedience. His ears were pointed, giving away his Elvish lineage. A silver cane rested in one hand, though he didn’t seem to need it for support—it was more like a prop, a tool to emphasize his superiority.
“Ah,” he said, his voice smooth and dripping with condescension, each syllable enunciated with a crisp British accent. “The rabble hath arrived. How… quaint. I suppose punctuality is too much to ask from those unaccustomed to the concept of timekeeping.” The man paused as he pulled out his stopwatch. While he knew that it was set five minutes ahead, that did not excuse this sorry excuse for a group from not being early.
He stepped further into the room, the cane tapping lightly against the floor with each deliberate step. His gaze swept over the assembled group, lingering briefly on each face as if mentally cataloging their flaws. When his eyes landed on Lena and Jackson, there was a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or disdain. They followed the smell and landed on Cailean, and his face recoiled with disgust. Mason drew a dismissive look. Azure warranted a longer look, and the Archivist chuckled ever so at the way this man carried himself. Every member of the group drew a look, and overall it seemed this man before them was not impressed by what he saw.
The Archivist’s gaze lingered on the group for a moment longer, his expression a mix of disdain and faint amusement as if he were observing a collection of particularly unimpressive insects. He snapped his stopwatch shut with a sharp click and tucked it back into his pocket, the sound echoing in the tense silence.
“Well,” he said, his tone dry and dripping with condescension, “I suppose we must make do with what we have. However, I must say, that the universe’s standards appear to have… slipped. I mean really, is this the best magic could bring?” His eyes flicked to Cailean and his nose wrinkled slightly. “And you,” he said, pointing the tip of his cane in their direction, “might consider investing in a towel. Or perhaps a bath. The smell is… terrible.”
The Archivist raised an eyebrow as he pointed toward Pom, his lips curling into a faint, mocking smile. “How generous that you too brought pie. Though I fail to see how a destroyed pastry has brought anything of value to this gathering.”
Lena snorted, unable to help herself. “He does not like pie,” she whispered towards Cailean. The Archivist’s sharp eyes snapped to her, and she quickly schooled her expression into something resembling innocence. “Sorry,” she said, holding up her hands. “Just… appreciating the feedback. Really constructive stuff. You are doing really great with this first impression and all. I like it.”
The Archivist’s gaze narrowed, but before he could respond, Jackson stepped in. He got in between the man and Lena, and used his massive frame to look down on The Archivist. As he did this, Burnie Cinder floated over his head and grew larger and more vibrant in color. “We’re not here to be scolded, nor are we looking for your approval. So, how about we skip the critiques and get to the part where you tell us why we’re here, how you knew we had magic, and what you know before I make a doorway through your wall over there and leave.”
Lena remained silent, the tension thickening as the Archivist turned his full attention to Jackson by craning his neck back. For a moment, it seemed like he might unleash a scathing retort, but then he chuckled—a low, humorless sound. He placed his cane in his armpit and then clapped three times before he took a step forward.
“Bravo! Brave words,” the Archivist said, his tone icy. “But bravery without competence is merely recklessness. Let us hope, for your sake, that you possess at least a modicum of the latter.”
“Brave words,” Lena whispered, mimicking the Archivist’s tone. “But recklessness wit-”
Jackson tapped Lena on the shoulder to hush her as he grinned, though his eyes were still wary. He had a bad feeling about the man, and wondered if it was worth it to even
The Archivist simply looked at Lena with the sides of his eyes and scoffed. “I have lived a long life, girl,” he started and leaned forward, “and you have already proven yourself to be as annoying as anyone I have met so congratulations.” He tapped his cane on the ground sharply. “We don’t have time to waste. Follow me and-”
“Hold up for just a minute,” Lena paused as she took a step towards the middle of the group, “we have a lot of questions that you need to answer first. Like what is magic, why did we develop it, and why the fuck are you such a cunt” Lena paused as she threw her arms out wide, “I think we deserve to have some questions answered first, before we do anything with you.”
“We’ll get to that when we-”
“NO.” Burnie Cinders spelled into the air as it flew from it’s perch above Jackson and landed in front of The Archivist
“You heard the fire. We have questions, you have answers, and we want them now.”
“Very well,” The Archivist placed the cane on the ground and put one hand on top of the other on top of the cane. A look of profound annoyance fell over his face, and he looked at the group with a particular disdain. “Ask away.”
The mansion’s interior was as grand as it was unsettling. The foyer stretched high above them, its ceiling lost in shadow. A chandelier hung precariously overhead, its crystals catching the faint light from Burnie’s flames and scattering it in fractured patterns across the walls. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and something faintly metallic, like copper or rust. Lena hesitated just inside the doorway, her boots clicking softly against the marble floor.
“Okay,” she muttered, glancing around. “This is officially creepy.”
Jackson stepped in beside her, his broad frame filling the space. “Yeah, no kidding. Feels like we just walked into a horror movie. I like your odds though of being the final girl.”
“Is it because I’m the only girl here,” Lena chuckled as age looked around some more.
“I plead the-“ The door creaked shut behind them, the sound echoing through the empty halls. Lena spun around, her heart racing, but there was no one there. Just the heavy, ornate door, now closed tight. Jackson sighed as he placed his hands on his hips, “-the fifth.”
“Great,” she said, forcing a laugh. “No turning back now.”
Jackson gave her a reassuring smile, though his eyes were scanning the room warily. “Should we wait here or-”
”Let’s wait and see what happens”
They both looked around the room. The walls were lined with portraits and busts of heads, and their eyes seemed to like directly at the two wayward mages. Lena shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her.
“Do you feel like they’re watching us?” she asked, her voice low.
Jackson nodded, his expression tense. “Yeah.”
Lena glanced at Burnie, who was flickering nervously, his light dimming and flaring in erratic bursts. “You too, huh?” she murmured to the fire. “Guess it’s not just me.”
As they walked a little further into the room, the feeling of unease grew stronger. Lena’s skin prickled, and she couldn’t shake the sensation that something was just out of sight, lurking in the shadows. Every other second she’d see a wraith or a shade, but as soon as she focused her eyes she’d realize it was a coat rack, a chair, or a mirror. However, she did hear something. It almost sounded like something, somewhere, was chanting in a dead language. She didn’t know why she felt it was a dead language but something deep within her core told her so. She glanced at Jackson, who was frowning, his hand twitching which caused water droplets to form in the air around them.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, though his voice was tight. “Just… seeing things. Shadows moving where they shouldn’t.”
Lena nodded, her unease growing. “I think I’m hearing things. Whispers. Can’t make out the words, though.”
Jackson stopped, turning to face her. “Whispers? Like… voices?”
“Yeppers,” Lena said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like… an ancient language or something. I don’t recognize it, but it’s… it’s here, it’s there, it’s every fucking where.”
Jackson’s frown deepened. “This place is messing with us. We need to find a light or something. Get our bearings.”
“Oh we both know that won’t help if it is haunted,” Lena seethed as her heart pounded. They quickened their pace, searching for a light switch or a lamp. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and Lena clapped her hands over her ears, trying to block them out. Jackson’s breathing was ragged now, his eyes darting around as the shadows seemed to shift and twist around them.
Jackson thought he saw a specter flying across the room towards him and he threw a punch, easily punching through the marble bust in front of him. Finally, Jackson spotted a light switch on the wall. He reached for it, his hand trembling slightly, and flipped it on.
The room was flooded with light, the chandelier above them blazing to life. Lena blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. The whispers stopped abruptly, and the shadows retreated, leaving the room looking… normal. Just an old, slightly dusty mansion. Lena could finally see that this room was the parlor room. It was square, the floor was a finely polished Pink Ivory inlaid with stone and the walls were of similar quality and filled to the brim with countless portraits, decorative shelves filled with trinkets, and weaponry all of old Elven design
Jackson shook his head, his expression a mix of relief and confusion. “I think… I think this place is haunted”
Lena let out a shaky laugh, though her nerves were still on edge. “Great. I always wanted to die in a haunted house. Perfect.”
The lights suddenly went out again eliciting a yelp from Lena. The sound of the door creaking open drew mouth their heads sharply back. Like before, the door closed behind the new person.
*Click*
The light turned back on as Jackson flicked the switch. Both Jackson and Lena recoiled at the sudden change from dark to bright, but they did see a figure in the doorway now.. Before their eyes could adjust, the room suddenly went dark once again as the door slammed closed.
“Well this will be annoying if it continues,” Lena scoffed. A moment later the door swung open allowing a pair of people to enter.
*Click*
The cycle would continue and Lena found it annoying. The door would open, a new person would walk through it, Jackson would turn the lights on, the lights would go out and the door would close. Rinse, repeat, and continue over and over until there was over a dozen people assembled in the entryway for this house. Lena was pleasantly surprised that none of them appeared to be the kind of person to lead a cult, but alas the modern age did make it hard to determine that in advance. Her eyes shifted from person to person before she decided to put her hands behind her back.
“So,” she started with a stern tone, “I bet you are wondering why I sent you the letters.”
“She did not send the letters,” Jackson sighed as he waved at the crowd. “Hi! I am Jackson, this is Lena, and the fireball is Burnie Cinders.”
Burnie intensified as it moved in between Lena and the new group. Lena knew he was apprehensive about the gathering crowd and was trying to protect her just in case.
“Let me have my-” Lena stopped speaking as she rubbed her temple. “Is this the part where we each tell each other our powers and our names? Maybe make plans to get a late-night bite after this is done?”
Far away from the hustle and bustle of the town center stood a large mansion and inside its study magic was happening. The study was a collision of eras. Shelves of gnarled, root-like wood held crumbling scrolls and leather-bound grimoires, while holographic runes flickered faintly in the air, a failed attempt to digitize the undigitizable. At the center sat Eldrin Moonshadow, his silver hair cascading over robes woven from the finest of silks. He was once a famed archeologist convinced that magic was real. He was attempting to read a tome that, if his translation was correct, would bring magic back to the world. His fingers traced glyphs in an ancient tome. The book’s pages pulsed faintly, as if breathing, its language dead for millennia.
He read aloud, each syllable a spark at the back of his mind. The words twisted as they left his lips, no longer just words but charged with every. The first sign was subtle: the flicker of the holograms stuttered, then died. Shadows pooled thicker in the corners, alive and watching. Eldrin’s voice grew steadier, louder, though his hands trembled. The glyphs began to glow, not with light, but with a negative radiance—a void that gnawed at the edges of the room.
His mind itched. A pressure built behind his eyes, as if something were peeling back the folds of his consciousness. The words now came unbidden, faster, harsher, the book’s pages turning themselves. The air tasted metallic, like blood and static. The walls… lmelted. Not into liquid, but into an assortment of impossible geometries—angles that bent away from reality, colors that had no name. Eldrin tried to stop, but his tongue was no longer his own. The tome’s magic slithered into his veins, cold and euphoric.
Then there was silence.
The study was gone. He stood, or at least he thought he did, it was hard to tell in a realm where space folded inward. Before him loomed… It.
Its presence was a paradox—a colossus that could eclipse galaxies, yet small enough to cradle in a palm. Its body was the night sky fractured: a living canvas of stars, nebulae, and black holes swirling in perfect, terrible harmony. Thousands of appendages spiraled from its core—not limbs, but *concepts* made flesh. Some resembled skeletal hands, others tendrils of liquid starlight, still more were shifting geometries that defied mortal eyes. Its “face” (if it had one) was a vortex of constellations arranged into something like a smile, vast and hungry.
“Little Siren,” it intoned, its voice a chorus of dying suns and birth cries of planets. Yet it was understandable. “You sang my symphony well. But the verse… that final verse is incomplete.”
Eldrin’s mind unraveled. Memories fractured—his centuries of study, his name, the taste of sunlight—all unspooling into the cosmic tapestry of the entity. The entity’s appendages brushed his soul (not his body, never his body), and he felt the weight of eons, the insignificance of all he’d ever known.
“Sing the last glyph,” it demanded, its form collapsing and expanding simultaneously. “Unbind me. Let us rewrite the song. Let us bring back magic.”
Eldrin’s mouth opened—to obey, to scream, he wasn’t sure—but before a sound could escape, the vision ruptured.
He gasped, back in the study, the tome snapped shut. His hands were bleeding, clawed raw from trying to close the tome. The walls were intact, the holograms humming innocently. But the air still thrummed with a dissonant hum, and when Eldrin looked down, his reflection in the polished floor showed not his face, but a flicker of star-strewn void.
Some doors, once opened, cannot be fully shut.
The Grinning Imp - 22:00
The spotlight warmed Lena’s face as she strode onto the stage of The Grinning Imp, a cramped comedy club wedged between a well-liked noodle shop and a proper bar in the quiet city of Twin Pines. The crowd—a mix of drowsy halfling students, goliath construction workers, and elven baristas nursing post-shift coffees—clapped politely. Lena flashed her sharpest grin, the one that made her cheekbones look carved. No horns, no tail, no giveaways. Just a woman with a mic and a chip on her shoulder. If the crowd had known that a Tiefling was on stage it might’ve been more fun with the hecklers. While they were all almost completely human, there was still the running stigma their demonic past brought to the present. Still, Lena smiled even harder as her eyes scanned the crowd.
“Evening, everybody!” she barked, voice bouncing off the brick walls. A goliath in the back raised a tankard. “Yeah, I see you, big guy. You’re what, eight feet tall? Funny story, I dated a Goliath once! I’ll tell you that the height difference was so wild. Every kiss looked like I was summiting Mount Trauma. I had to break up with him because I just couldn’t stand the long distance relationship we had.” The room chuckled. A halfling in the front row snorted into her cider. “Gotcha.”
For forty minutes, Lena danced on the edge of disaster—teasing a gnome about his “suspiciously shiny” bald head, (“Sir, are you polishing that or is it naturally that reflective?”), commiserating with a human nurse about chaotic ER shifts (“Ma’am, if I see one more guy say ‘I just fell on it’ at 2 a.m…”), and dodging a rogue olive lobbed by a heckling dwarf (“Wow, that almost hit! If I was the broadside of a barn I’d be a little more worried”). The room buzzed, sweaty and alive. Normal. Lena was very used to nights like this. She would do her routine, have plenty of laughs, get drunk with half her earnings at the bars around town, and then struggle to eat until her next gig. This life was chaotic, it was tiring, but it was comedy. There was very little a rowdy crowd could do to throw her off her game.
Then the smell hit.
Burnt sugar. Sulfur. Lena’s nostrils flared. A headache bloomed behind her eyes, hot and insistent. She gripped the mic stand, knuckles white as she nearly collapsed. It felt like an energy surged through her body and threatened to make her explode. “Uh… anyone eating spoiled eggs or did the Dwarf let out some steam if you know what I mean?” she quipped in, voice strained. The crowd tittered nervously. A cough could be heard to mark a woman’s displeasure at the apparent joke. In her body she felt a heat surging, and it demanded a way out. Lena caught sight of an object and suddenly she felt the energy rush out of her body.
A candle on a corner table—unlit, just decor—hissed. Then *snap*. Blue flames erupted, vivid and cold. The halfling beside it yelped, scrambling back. “Whoa, pyro effects!” a drunk human shouted, clapping. At first, it stuck to the decorative wick, but soon the entire candle and the table holding it caught fire as well.
Lena froze. No. No no no. She felt a connection to this fire that she had never felt before. It felt warm, but it also felt oh so incredibly hungry.
A dwarf tossed his ale on the fire in an attempt to douse it. The flames rippled, unfazed, as they shot upward and began licking the ceiling. Panic surged as a goliath yanked down a tapestry to smother it but instead, the blaze clung to the fabric, spreading faster, and faster, and further. The fire arched out and began to gnaw at the surrounding tables until they too caught fire.. “Get out!” someone screamed.
Lena stood paralyzed, the mic screeching feedback. The smell of sulfur thickened. Hersmell. Her fault. Again.
“Fire exit!” a gnome bellowed, herding the crowd. No one looked at Lena. No accusations, no shocked stares. Just chaos. To them, it was a freak accident—faulty gas lines, cursed decor, bad luck. Only she knew the truth humming in her veins. She caused this. If anyone died, it would be her fault. Again.
She stumbled offstage, past the fleeing bartender, and into the alley. The cold blue glow pulsed through the club’s windows. Lena pressed her back to the damp brick wall, trembling.
“What the fuck?” she whispered.
Somewhere in the city, a church bell tolled. A breeze carried the scent of smoke. Something had awoken in her, and Lena could only hyperventilate as she watched the fire consume more and more before a Goliath grabbed her and pulled her further away from the growing inferno. As she got a good distance away the fire puttered and went out all on its own. She felt something writhing about in her pocket, and she quickly opened it and saw a blue ball of fire nestled in it. A small amount of smoke had already started to rise from her burning vest.
Lena used magic, and she was terrified.
The cabin was a tomb, and Lena was its reluctant body.
She lay in the tub, her body curled into itself like a question mark, staring at the water-stained ceiling. Burnie Cinders, the name she had given oh so affectionately to the sentient ball of fire, floated nearby, his blue light casting jagged shadows that danced across the room like a ballerina troupe. He’d been quiet tonight, which was worse than his usual antics. At least when he was setting her socks on fire or scorching the dinner she had delivered, she had something to yell about. Silence left her alone with her thoughts, and her thoughts were more painful than anything this fire could bring.
“NO.”
The word flared suddenly, sharp and impatient.
“I didn’t ask you anything,” Lena muttered, her voice hoarse from disuse.
“YES”
She groaned. Burnie’s binary responses were maddening. YES and NO. No explanations, no apologies. Just a sentient flame with the emotional range of a red light, green light game. Lena had not been back to this cabin in the woods since her parents died. Her dad loved to hunt out of this place and even took young Lena out a few times to teach her. She hated hunting back then. The very idea of taking a life was a cruel joke, couldn’t they just get meat at the supermarket where no animal had to die? It took her until thirteen to realize the truth of how wrong she was. Oh she wished she could go back to that youthful innocence and to be in his presence just for a minute. She used to hate this place for so many reasons, but there was only one that stuck out to her now.
The cabin was a museum of loss. Her parents’ things sat untouched, frozen in time: her father’s flannel draped over the rocking chair, her mother’s gardening gloves on the windowsill, their wedding photo on the mantel, half-melted at the edges. Lena hadn’t moved any of it. To disturb them felt like admitting they were gone for good. There were burn marks all over the walls that had collected dust over the years. While the roof, and many of the walls were scorched, the fire that consumed her family had struck fast and was put out even quicker thanks to her parents even if the fire and smoke claimed them in the end.
Burnie had taken a liking to the flannel. He’d curl into its pocket most nights, dimming to a faint glow, like a child clinging to a security blanket. Lena didn’t stop him. It felt like a truce with a pyromaniac child who would burn anything and everything he could. It took two days after the comedy club fire to learn that this thing thought and acted on its own. Once she did, it made it easier to control even if it was like negotiating with a terrorist who had their finger on the trigger of a bomb. Lena left her apartment with the fire a week ago because she was too poor to lose the security deposit, and she’s been stuck in this cabin ever since.
She’d tried to leave again this morning. Made it as far as the porch before her legs locked. The forest stretched ahead, pines swaying like a dare. “Just walk,” she'd told herself. “One foot. Then the other*. But her lungs had tightened, her pulse thrashing through her chest. Burnie had swooped in, frantic, etching “NO NO NO,” in the air until she stumbled back inside.
Now, they had rituals. Lena would cook breakfast, letting the sentient fire char his half to charcoal while Lena tried to eat hers when her stomach allowed. The fire would try to catch random things on fire and Lena would yell and scream at it to stop, and then apologize for raising her voice. They would walk the cabin together, Burnie would try to point at items only for Lena to completely not because looking at the discarded artifacts left by her parents was not the vibe right now. Finally, at dusk, Lena would sit on the floor in the bathroom with her back against the wall and stare at her parent's wedding photo that somehow survived the inferno. While half melted it still contained their essence, her father's cocky but kind smile and her mother's resting bitch face that was just her autism made physical. For some reason, the fire always respected these items, it would never try to catch them on fire and would even dim its light as if paying respects to the dearly departed. She sighed as she smiled at that photo. She missed them so much in that moment.
“YES.” The flame would always flicker as if asking, “Ready to talk,” right after.
“NO”, she’d think back.
For some reason, it always seemed to know what she was thinking.
---
The letter came on a Tuesday. Or maybe it was a Wednesday. Time had dissolved into a slurry of exhaustion and made food in the week or so she spent at the cabin.
Lena was scrubbing ash off the countertop, Burnie Cinders had decided that it would be a fun game for it to destroy a brand new roll of paper towels and have Lena clean up afterward when the envelope slid inside. No knock. No footsteps. Just the soft *shhh* of paper sliding on hardwood.
Burnie shot past her, flaring bright and growing in size.
”NO’
“You don’t even know what it says.”
“YES’
She picked it up. The paper was thick and expensive, the kind her mother used for holiday cards. The seal broke with a sigh.
Lena, I hope this letter finds you well enough.
Magic isn’t a spark. It’s a scream. And by all accounts, you’ve been screaming for the past week. This is not in your head, magic is real. You’ve heard it in your sleep, in the hollows of your soul, and every moment that Elemental lives is proof. You are one of the first mages in five hundred years. I’m sure you have questions and I have the answers to them.
Come to 13 Mourningdove Lane. Midnight.
~The Archivist (PS: Bring the good senator. He’s righteous.
Burnie recoiled, incinerating the letter in a single, violent snap even as the letter rested in Lena’s hands. Even though the fire kissed them her hands did not burn, nor hurt, with the heat.
“They know your name,” Lena whispered.
“NO.
“The good senator, at least they have good taste in elected officials,” Lena Joked.
“YES.
”Do you have an actual name?”
”YES.”
”Can you tell me it?”
”NO.”
She sank to the floor, the tiles cold through her sweatpants. Burnie drifted closer, his heat a low thrum against her face. She didn’t pull away. Her eyes shot over to the door and the thought of the letter entered her mind.
“Are they dangerous?”
“YES.
“Are they lying?”
“NO.
“Should I go?”
Burnie stilled. The cabin creaked, the wind outside gnawing at the eaves. Lena pressed her forehead to her knees. *What would you do?* she asked the ghosts. The flannel rustled. The novel’s pages fluttered.
When she looked up, Burnie had etched a word in delicate, wavering script above the sink—a word he’d never used, a word that didn’t fit his binary soul:
“PERHAPS.
Lena watched in awe at the fire script. She had learned much about the sentient fire that seemed to have a thing for her, but it always seemed ready to surprise her again.
““You’re not just fire, are you?” she murmured.
“NO.
“Are you… them,” she pointed towards the burnt scraps of paper, “Did they… make you?”
“NO.
“Are you mine? Did I make you?”
A pause. Then, softer in color and slower in speed, Burnie Cinders spelled out: “YES.
The word hung, glowing, until Lena’s eyes burned. She cupped her hands around him, not caring if he seared her skin. He didn’t. He never did. Outside, the pines whispered. Somewhere, an owl cried. Lena’s breath steadied, syncing with Burnie’s rhythm with his flicker for inhale, his dim for exhale.
“Monday, April 14th 22:00’
Two hours.
She had two hours until the meeting with the stranger who somehow managed to find them, slide a note under their door, and disappeared without a trace. Lena did not know what was worse, having a sentient fire shouting NO at you every time you considered going to the meeting or the fact that she was considering it. She paced back and forth as as looked at the clock on her phone. Seventeen missed calls from the comedy club, seven from her best friend and roommate Jackson, and over a thousand unread text messages though only one hundred were from the last week.
Lena was so engrossed in her thoughts that she initially missed a tapping sound. A second later it came again, and suddenly Lena could hear the tapping at her cabin door, and the sentient fire grew in size and intensity. ”Hey,” a voice called out. “Tis some visitor,” Lena quoted, “tapping at my cabin door. With a voice, I’d recognize forevermore.”
“Lena,” that familiar voice called out, “It’s Jackson. I need to talk to you and you’re not answering your phone and you’re not responding to my texts even though you got the delivery of food I sent you earlier today. I know you’re in there, please open the door we need to talk about the comedy club and everything that’s happened since.”
Lena looked at the bag of Dairy Queen complete with a peanut buster blizzard, knowing it was a trap. “I never got a-”
“You’re in the drop off photo.”
“Go away Jackson,” Lena paused as she crossed her arms and bowed her head. Shit. She did not like when others saw her in the den of her despair. “I don’t want to talk….. wait.. what happened since?”
““You mean to tell me you’ve been locked up in here for a whole week without checking the news, ticktok, or anything?”
Lena looked at the sentient fire. It had dimmed ever so in the minute that she spoke, it sensing her recognition of the person on the other side. Lena thought back to the various fires that it caused over the last week. “I’ve been busy.”
The door handle turned and it was pulled open. The sentient fire hid behind her and dimmed even more. In the doorway, Lena could see only up to the chest of her friend, his head far too high to be seen from her angle. Jackson bent down and maneuvered his giant frame to fit through the door and bent his body to walk inside. He gracefully turned around and closed the door.
“You never look right walking through that door,” Lena chuckled, “like you remind me of this gif I saw with a train and a-“
““Don’t finish that thought,” he responded quickly, “at least you cleaned this place up. I don’t see any trash on the ground anymore,” he said without knowing it was all burned before he held out his hand and passed his tablet-sized phone to Lena. On the screen a video was playing, showing a man in Japan shooting electricity into the air. He swiped to the next and the video showed someone in a forest floating precariously only to fall a moment later. He swiped to the next, and the next, and the next. Each one shows someone from around the world using magic. ““No one on the news is talking about it, and as fast as they uploaded they’re removed from the apps. Still, everyone is trying to find more. As well-“
Jackson held up a hand. Suddenly water began to pull itself from the air until it pooled into a pulsating orb. He held it up and muttered a soft ““ta-da” as he pulled the magic back and the water fell to the floor.
Lena’s mouth dropped.
““Now you must have questions,” Jackson started.
“J-J-Jackson,” Lena stuttered at the revelation.
““And normally I would be more than willing to provide them.”
“Jackson st-”
““But I don’t have any, and frankly I am a little upset with you.”
Lena recoiled backward, right hand on her chest and her mouth agape. “Me? What did I-“
““Because when you need anything I’m right there for you. But when I suddenly develop magic and need my best friend in the whole world you are gone, don’t answer my desperate calls, or my sad texts.”
“Jackson I didn’t-“
““And I get it. Fire is very traumatic for you so the fire at the club must’ve been traumatic and you of course came to this safe place. Which is weird because this is a traumatic place where your parents died in a fire right in front of you but I promise I get it. I get it. I get it? I gave you space and waited for you to reach out again like the past five times you’ve had this breakdown. But I need your help now.”
“Please let me-“
““If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you didn’t care about me. Do you have any idea what this is like? To suddenly develop magic? To feel like your body isn’t your own anymore? To—”
Behind Lena, Burnie spelled out YES in flickering blue flames, the letters hovering in the air. Jackson stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he spotted the fire. ““Of course, you don’t—oh my god, what is that?”
“Ummmm Jackson, meet Bernie Cinder,” Lena paused as the flame fully revealed itself, “I developed magic too.”
Jackson stared at the sentient fire, then at Lena, then back at the fire. ““Burnie Cinder,” he repeated flatly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a poster-sized letter, the same thick, expensive stock as the one Lena had received. ““Well,” he said, his voice heavy with irony, ““I was going to try to guilt-trip you into coming with me tonight. Apparently, someone took notice of my magic. Now, I don’t have to guilt trip you because you need to see this let-”
“I got the same letter,” Lena interrupted as she pointed to a small pile of ash on the ground. “Anyone else we know get one?”
Jackson muttered a soft ‘okaaaay fuck me then’ as he put the poster down on the table. “Not that I know of. I am going to this meeting to find out,” Jackson paused as he opened the door once more and stepped outside, “are you?”
Lena hesitated, glancing at Burnie. The fire flickered uncertainly, but for once, it didn’t spell out NO. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”
Jackson’s expression softened, and for the first time since he’d arrived, he smiled. “Good. Because I’m not doing this alone, Lena. You’re my best friend, and I need you. Even if you’ve been a terrible one lately.”
Lena winced but nodded. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I… I just… I didn’t know how to deal with all of this.”
“Yeah no shit,” Jackson said, his tone lighter now. “But we’ll figure it out. Like we always somehow do.”
Lena managed a small smile. “Together.”
Burnie flared brightly, spelling out YES once more, and for the first time in days, Lena felt a flicker of hope. “Do we have enough time for me to take a shower before we go?”
“No,” Jackson responded with crossed arms.
“Can I change?”
“Yes.”
13 Mourningdove Lane 23:55
The drive to Mourningdove Lane was quiet, save for the low hum of the car’s engine and the occasional flicker of Burnie Cinder’s flames in the backseat. Lena stared out the window, her fingers drumming nervously on the armrest. Jackson, ever the steady presence, kept his eyes on the road, though his grip on the steering wheel was tighter than usual.
“You know,” Lena said, breaking the silence, “if this turns out to be some kind of cult, I’m blaming you.”
Jackson chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “If it’s a cult, I’ll befriend their leader. Get priority access to the inner workings of the cult. Build our brand you know? Do a hostile takeover, kill the existing leadership, and become the new cult leader with you as my number two.”
Lena smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, because that’s exactly how I pictured my life going. Being number two in a cult. We both know I’d make the better leader because I am calm under pressure.”
“Hey, I can be a leader,” Jackson protested, grinning. “And you’re one to talk, Miss ‘I-set-a-comedy-club-on-fire-and-it-triggered-my-PTSD-really-bad-so-I-ran-to-the-woods-to-cry.’” Jackson took his hands off the wheel as he spoke, doing air quotes with them, and his voice had a mocking quality.
“Low blow,” Lena muttered, though she couldn’t help but laugh. The tension in the car eased slightly, and she leaned back in her seat, watching the streetlights blur past.
They parked a block away from the address, the mansion’s silhouette visible in the distance. It loomed against the night sky, its windows dark and foreboding. Lena hesitated as she stepped out of the car, her boots crunching on the gravel. Burnie floated beside her, his blue light casting eerie shadows on the ground.
“You good?” Jackson asked, his voice soft but steady.
“Peachy,” Lena replied, though her hands were shoved deep in her jacket pockets, her shoulders tense. “Let’s just get this over with.”
They strolled, the cool night air wrapping around them like a shroud. The streets were empty, the only sound was the rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Lena glanced at Jackson, her brow furrowed.
“So,” she began, “how’s the whole water thing going? You’ve been pretty quiet about it.”
Jackson shrugged his shoulders, his hands in his pockets. “It’s… weird. Like, I can feel it, you know? The water. It’s like it’s alive in my hands, but I have no clue what I am doing with it. I can shape it, and move it, but it’s not always easy to control. Especially when I’m stressed.”
“Sounds familiar,” Lena said, glancing at Burnie, who flickered as if in agreement. “I still can’t believe this is real. Magic. All of it.”
“Yeah,” Jackson agreed, his tone thoughtful. “But it’s not just us, Lena. Those videos I showed you, people all over the world are waking up with powers. Something’s happening, and we’re part of it.”
“Lucky us,” Lena muttered. She kicked a pebble, watching it skitter across the pavement. “Do you think this Archivist person knows what’s going on? Like, why now? Why us?”
Jackson shook his head. “No idea. But if anyone has answers, it’s probably them. And if they don’t…” He trailed off, shrugging. “Well, we’ll figure it out. Like we always do.”
Lena smiled faintly, though her nerves were still on edge. “You make it sound so simple. Like we’re going to walk through the door and all of a sudden this all makes sense. Or we walk through the door and wake up from some collective dream.”
“It’s not,” Jackson admitted. “But we’ve got each other. And that’s gotta count for something, right?”
“Right,” Lena said, her voice softer now. She glanced at him, her expression grateful. “Thanks, Jackson. For… you know. Being you.”
Jackson grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Anytime, Lena. Now come on. Let’s go see what this Archivist wants.”
They approached the mansion, its iron gates standing open as if waiting for them. The path to the front door was lined with overgrown hedges, their shadows twisting in the moonlight. Lena hesitated at the gate, her heart pounding.
“You ready?” Jackson asked, his voice steady.
“Not even a little,” Lena admitted. But she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped through the gate. Jackson followed close behind.
As they walked up the path, the mansion seemed to grow larger, its windows like dark, unblinking eyes.
“Whatever happens,” Jackson said quietly, “if one of us dies in here the other has to delete the dead ones browsing history.”
“Oh for fucking sure,” Lena responded, her voice barely above a whisper.
They reached the front door, its heavy wood carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the dim light. Lena raised a hand to knock, but before she could, the door creaked open on its own, revealing a dark hallway beyond.
“Well,” Jackson said, his tone light despite the tension, “that’s not creepy at all.” Lena shot him a look that screamed 'don't jinx us please', “Let’s just get this over with.”
Lena’s eyes caught a movement in the neighboring property and she saw a man who waved at her before darting back inside. Lena squinted. He looked familiar like she had seen him in a movie or TV show before.
Together, they stepped inside, the door closing behind them with a soft but final click.
"I don’t want to set the world on fire, that’s the other guy there.."
_______________________________________________ Lena Marie Moonshadow
| She/Her | 27 | Ethnicity: Tiefling (passing as human) | 66 | Weight: 135 lbs _______________________________________________ Resilience. _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Comedy is just tragedy plus timing" ___________________________________
Stand-up Comedy ⫻ Lena is a natural performer, able to read a room and craft jokes on the fly. Her sharp wit and timing make her a crowd favorite, even when she’s masking her own pain. Improvisation ⫻ Years of performing in unpredictable environments have honed her ability to think on her feet and adapt to chaos. Empathy ⫻ Lena has a knack for connecting with people, often using humor to bridge gaps and make others feel seen. Survival Instinct ⫻ After losing her parents and navigating life as a struggling comedian, Lena has developed a strong survival instinct, both emotionally and physically. Fire Magic (Emerging) ⫻ Lena is just beginning to understand her pyrokinesis, though her control is shaky at best. She can summon and manipulate blue flames, but it often comes at a cost.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I’ll tell you what, she looks like someone bottled chaos with a sharp grin and silver tounge."
Lena is a striking figure, with sharp cheekbones and a mischievous grin that hides a world of pain. Her hair is normally a dark auburn with a wavy texture but she keeps her hair cut short and has dyed it grey for the last three years. Her eyes are a deep, almost unnatural auburn color. She has a slim but athletic build, carrying herself with a mix of confidence and weariness. Her skin is fair, though it occasionally flushes with a faint, infernal warmth when she’s stressed or using magic. Ever since she has developed her magic she has begun to notice some changes in her body. There is a sharp pain at the base of her spine, her skin’s complexion is purplish every day, and her auburn eyes have begun to grow ever more so vivid.
She dresses casually, favoring worn jeans, band t-shirts, and a leather jacket that’s seen better days. Her only concession to flair is a pair of scuffed combat boots and a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon, the final birthday gift she got at seventeen before her parents died in the fire. When performing, she amps up her look with bold eyeliner, makeup, and a sharp blazer, though she never lets herself appear too polished. There’s always a faint scent of sulfur around her lately, and this scent is only growing stronger as her powers develop.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "My therapist wrote “she laughs to keep from crying, but the tears are always there beneath the surface”, what a load of horse shit."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Lena wants to master her craft and eventually get noticed and go on tour with her comedy. While she is a long way away from this she works tireless to achieve it. As well, at her core, she hopes to honor her parent's memory and make peace with what she accidentally did. While part of her is against forgiving herself, the desire is there all the same.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Life is chaos, and the best you can do is laugh through it. Lena believes in survival above all else, but she’s starting to realize that connection and vulnerability might be just as important.
SECRETS AND FEARS ⫻ Lena hides her Tiefling heritage, fearing rejection and prejudice. She’s also terrified of fire, despite her newfound pyrokinesis, and carries immense guilt over the comedy club fire and her parents’ deaths.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Lena is pansexual, though she rarely lets anyone get close enough to find out. Her humor and charm make her popular, but she keeps relationships casual to avoid vulnerability.
WHAT WAS THE FIRST DAY WITH MAGIC LIKE? ⫻ Chaotic and terrifying. Lena’s magic manifested during a stand-up routine, when a sudden surge of energy caused a candle to erupt into blue flames. The fire spread quickly, and Lena felt a connection to it that was both exhilarating and horrifying. She fled to her family’s cabin, where she discovered Burnie Cinder, a sentient flame that seems tied to her emotions.
FLAWS ⫻ Lena struggles with self-doubt and guilt, often shutting down emotionally when things get too intense. She’s impulsive and prone to self-sabotage, using humor as a shield to avoid dealing with her pain. Her fear of fire and her own magic makes her hesitant to embrace her abilities, even when they could help her.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I don’t talk about my parents that much."
Lena, like many in Twin Pines, grew up in a loving but complicated household. Her father worked the docks but was an avid hunter and often was gone more than he was in the home. When he was there, he was tired and unwilling to properly entertain a young child but he tried his best to fight through it. Her mother worked at the local paper as an editor, so she too was gone for long hours of the day and was equally tired when she returned home. Despite this, they both worked hard to ensure Lena was as happy as could be as a kid and she was brought up to understand that hard work, and humility were the keys to success. Outside of a few long years where money was short her early years were unremarkable.
When Lena was a teenager she began to discover she had a knack for telling stories, a quality both her parents encouraged her to explore. In middle and high school she excelled in English classes, and even took a few creative storytelling college courses during this time through her school. She was involved in the marching band, and theater, and even picked up the sport of kicking a ball really hard and was a passable forward in Football. When she was seventeen her parents took her to the cabin in the woods to celebrate. When the electricity went out due to a powerful windstorm, Lena lit a candle and went to grab a drink when she suddenly tripped. The fire spread much faster than it should have, at least it did to Lena, and soon she and her parents were trapped. Instead of saving themselves, they worked to ensure Lena could get out first. Despite Lena’s own best efforts after, her parents succumbed to the fire and smoke and were pronounced dead on the scene.
She finished high school as best she could. While her parents were not wealthy they were well enough off and she was able to enroll in college and several hours of therapy a week. It was here that she met her best friend Jackson, and the two became inseparable from here on out. Lena has a degree in marketing that she does not use and instead works hard to achieve her goal of becoming a successful comedian. While she has the talent, it remains to be seen if she will use it.
Magic ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Quote about your magic here."
MAGIC ⫻ Infernal Pyrokinesis - Lena has the ability to summon and control blue flames that burn colder than a normal fire but can not be put out by conventional means.
MAGIC DESCRIPTION ⫻ Lena’s magic manifests as blue flames that seem to have a life of their own. The fire is tied to her emotions, flaring up when she’s angry or scared and dimming when she’s calm. Burnie Cinder, a sentient flame, appears to be a manifestation of her magic, acting as both a companion and a reminder of her power’s unpredictability. Lena’s control is shaky at best, and her magic often feels like it’s controlling her rather than the other way around.
Pyrokinesis ⫻ Lena can conjure, and command the fire she brings forth. This can range from the simple, like creating a fire on an object and controlling the blaze to the complex like summoning her Flame Elemental Burnie Cinders.
Fire Elemental ⫻ Burnie Cinders is a sentient, mischievous, ball of fire that acts on its own accord. While Lena can control it to some extent, it has been more like an agreement compared to full control. If Cinders does not want to do something, it will not, and it will tell Lena as much.
LIMITS ⫻ Lena’s magic is tied to her emotions, making it difficult to control when she’s upset or overwhelmed.
The flames are physically draining, leaving her exhausted after prolonged use.
Burnie Cinders has a mind of his own and doesn’t always obey Lena’s commands.
The blue flames are cold but still destructive, making them dangerous in close quarters.
WEAKNESSES ⫻
The more her fire consumes the more it will want to consume. Even outside of Cinders her fire feels alive and has a very deep well of hunger. Eventually, this hunger will be made manifest in her, making her more and more likely to burn things or objects.
While normal means of getting rid of the fire are not effective, magically created water or suppressants are. She will quickly lose a fight against a water mage.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Oh hey we have a heckler tonight folks."
MISQ SECTION
"ROCK AND STONE, brothers, rock and stone."
_______________________________________________ Aunoth Veomavea Jackson Stone
Strength and Stamina ⫻ As a Goliath, Jackson is naturally strong and resilient, capable of lifting heavy objects and enduring physical strain with ease. Problem-Solving ⫻ Jackson has a knack for finding practical solutions to difficult problems, often thinking outside the box. Loyalty ⫻ Jackson is fiercely loyal to his friends, especially Lena. He’s the kind of person who will drop everything to help someone in need. Cooking ⫻ Jackson is an excellent cook, specializing in hearty, comforting meals. He often uses cooking as a way to show care for others. Transformation Magic (Emerging) ⫻ Jackson’s magic allows him to transform parts of his body, such as his hands into bird-like claws. His control is still developing, but the potential is vast.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "The weather is kind of chilly up here today."
Jackson is a towering figure, standing at an impressive 7’6” with a broad, muscular build that screams strength and stability. His skin is a darker brown color with faint, swirling patterns that resemble stone that instantly reveal his Goliath heritage if the height wasn’t enough. These patterns are present predominantly on his chest, arms, and legs although his ears have the pattern. His eyes are warm amber, sparkling with humor or kindness, and his smile is wide and genuine, often accompanied by a deep, rumbling laugh. Jackson has long, wavy, and dark hair that is complemented completely by short facial hair of the same color. On his kneecaps, knuckles, and elbows that stone like swirl is made manifest. The skin is incredibly thick at these locations, visibly so, and in the past they would have made the perfect tools to crush through any who dare oppose him. However, in the modern world and when fully dressed, Jackson may appear more human than Goliath as he has fully adopted the human-centric fashion that dominates the cities.
He dresses practically, favoring flannel shirts, sturdy jeans, and heavy boots, though he’s not above adding a pop of color with a bright scarf or beanie. Despite his imposing size, Jackson carries himself with a gentle, approachable demeanor, making him a comforting presence in any room. He often looks like a mouse trying to hide in the corner, and his bulky size is almost forgettable when one looks on his casual dress and friendly demeanor.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I have apparently become everyone’s rock but I have to ask who my rock is? Do I not deserve to be supported too?"
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Jackson is an avid sports fan and is trying to make his way up the sports journalism ladder. While he was never good enough himself to make it up the actual sports ladder, he does have a deep knowledge of the games and a natural charisma that could allow him to be successful if he just got his break.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Life is about connection and community. Jackson believes in being there for others, even when it’s hard, and finding joy in the little things.
SECRETS AND FEARS ⫻ Jackson fears losing the people he loves, especially Lena. He also worries about the responsibility that comes with his magic and whether he’ll be able to control it.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Jackson is stone top gay and proudly out, though he’s currently single. He’s had a few relationships over the years, but his loyalty to Lena and his own easygoing nature has kept him from settling down. He has lost three relationships when he had to put out fires for his friends and this is something that has held him back from going steady. Still, he opens up those damned apps every night hoping for something more than blank profile pictures and unsolicited nudes.
WHAT WAS THE FIRST DAY WITH MAGIC LIKE? ⫻ The first day was pure chaos. Jackson had a long day, had run a full bath, and lit a hundred candles to make him feel better. The day was long because he had just broken off a situationship with a charming man who caught feeling after their third Netflix session. The bath was going well until the magic tried to drown him. A bruised ego emerged from the bath five minutes later, out of the destroyed tub, and Jackson realized shit had changed.
FLAWS ⫻ Jackson can be overly self-sacrificing, often putting others’ needs before his own to the point of burnout. He also struggles with expressing his own fears and vulnerabilities, preferring to be the strong, dependable one.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Let's take a moment to breath, okay?"
Jackson Stone grew up in the rugged, close-knit Goliath community of Highridge, a small mountain town where strength, loyalty, and resilience were valued above all else. His parents, both skilled stonemasons, instilled in him a deep appreciation for hard work and craftsmanship from an early age. Jackson was the youngest of four siblings, and while his older brothers and sister were competitive and often vied for their parents’ attention, Jackson was content to stay in the background, observing and learning. He was the kind of child who would rather help his mother carry firewood or assist his father in shaping stone than engage in the roughhousing that defined his siblings’ relationships. This quiet, steady demeanor earned him the nickname “Little Boulder” among his family—a term of endearment that stuck even as he grew into his towering frame. Life in Highridge was simple but demanding. The Goliath community prided itself on self-sufficiency, and Jackson learned early on how to fend for himself. He spent his days helping his parents with their work, exploring the mountains, and developed a strong cooking skill that has served him well through life.
By the time he was a teenager, Jackson had developed a reputation as the “gentle giant” of Highridge, someone who could be relied on to lend a hand, whether it was repairing a neighbor’s roof or mediating a dispute between friends. Despite his size, Jackson was never one to throw his weight around; instead, he used his strength to protect and support those around him. When Jackson turned eighteen, he made the decision to leave Highridge and attend college in Twin Pines, a small city that felt worlds away from the quiet mountains of his childhood. The transition was jarring. The noise, the smell, the slow-paced lifestyle of the city, the fish smell, and the island were overwhelming at first, and Jackson often found himself longing for the simplicity of home. But he was determined to make the most of his new life, and it wasn’t long before he found his footing. It was during his freshman year that he met Lena, a sharp-tongued, quick-witted Tiefling who seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. The two bonded almost instantly, drawn together by their shared sense of humor and their mutual need for connection in a world that often felt isolating. Jackson quickly became Lena’s rock, the steady presence she could rely on when her own life felt like it was spinning out of control. He was there for her during the darkest moments—when she struggled with the after effects of the loss of her parents, when she doubted her abilities as a comedian, and when she felt like giving up on her dreams. In return, Lena brought out a lighter, more playful side of Jackson, encouraging him to step out of his comfort zone and embrace the chaos of life. Their friendship became a cornerstone of both their lives, a bond that was as unshakable as the mountains Jackson had grown up in.
After college, Jackson stayed in Twin Pines, working as a handyman and part-time cook while pursuing his sports journalism career. He became a familiar face in the city, known for his easygoing nature and his willingness to help anyone in need. Despite his own struggles—navigating life as a Goliath in a town not built for him, grappling with the occasional prejudice he faced because of his size, and the fish smell, Jackson remained steadfast in his optimism and his belief in the goodness of people. He found joy in the little things like cooking a meal for friends, fixing a broken chair, or sharing a laugh with Lena after one of her shows. When magic returned to the world, Jackson was as surprised as anyone. His water abilities manifested unexpectedly, and while he was initially overwhelmed by the sudden change, he quickly embraced it as just another part of life’s chaos. He just wishes Lena was there for him like he would've been there for her.
Magic ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "STOP TRYING TO DROWN ME...ME."
MAGIC ⫻ Hydromancy – The ability to manipulate and control water in all its forms, from liquid to ice to vapor.
MAGIC DESCRIPTION ⫻
Jackson’s hydromancy allows him to shape water into various forms, from delicate tendrils to powerful waves. He can freeze water into ice, summon mist to obscure his surroundings, or even draw moisture from the air to create small amounts of water in dry environments. His magic is deeply tied to his emotions, with calm focus allowing for precise control and heightened emotions causing his powers to surge unpredictably. Jackson’s hydromancy often feels like an extension of his personality—fluid, adaptable, and life-giving. However, it also carries a hint of the chaos that water can bring, reminding him that even the gentlest stream can become a raging flood.
Combat-Focused Spells (KNOWN)⫻ Jackson can use his water magic in a few different ways in a fight. He can pull the water together into a whip and use it to slash, grab, or deflect. He can also pull it all together and shoot it out like a cannon shot.
Water Whip ⫻ Through concentrated effort, Jackson can pull water, either from a source or from the ambient air, and form a singular tendril of water. This water tendril is typically as long as he is tall but it can vary depending on the amount of water in a given area. The whip is tough to command, and if Jackson loses focus the water will buck the command and simply fall to the ground beneath him.
Water Gun ⫻ Like the water whip, Jackson can pull the water into his chest area and form a large water bubble. He can then expel that water in front of him, shooting the water with high pressure out to a distance of thirty feet with the pressure dropping off and the shot dying out after fifty. This requires a lot of water, and often the ambient air is not enough.
Non-Combat-Focused Spells (UNKNOWN)⫻ Jackson does not know it yet but his water carries a healing energy to it. If he washes the water, gently, over a wounded area the healing magic will begin to work. It is slow, and deliberate magic that requires time, patience, and a lot of his magic.
LIMITS ⫻
Jackson’s control over water is strongest when he’s calm and focused. Stress or strong emotions can make his magic erratic and harder to manage.
He requires a source of water to manipulate, whether it’s a nearby body of water, moisture in the air, or even the water content in plants. In extremely dry environments, his abilities are limited.
Creating ice or vapor requires significant concentration and energy, leaving him drained after prolonged use. While he can manipulate water, he cannot create it from nothing. This limitation forces him to be resourceful and mindful of his surroundings.
WEAKNESSES ⫻
While he can control water, he is like a rock in it. He has no special ability to not drown or breath in water so if he were to lose control, the water he commands could drown him.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Please do not try and climb me like a tall tree."
What would you do if you suddenly gained magic in a world without it?
One moment, you were as normal as everyone else. Whether you were a college student studying for their midterms, or a busy worker who traded their happiness and health for a measly paycheck. Everything was normal until, the next moment, you weren’t. It could’ve started as a spark that arched across your fingertips, a whisper in your mind that sounded like the voice of your friend, or something far more dramatic—an uncontrollable burst of power that burned your area down. Whatever it was, however, this magic revealed itself to you, it is real. And you are not alone.
Exactly one week after your abilities appeared, a letter arrived. There was no return address, no postage, just your name in elegant script on the envelope. Your curiosity got the better of you, so you opened it, and you learned three things.
Magic has existed since the dawn of mankind.
You are one of the first magic users to grace the planet in over five hundred years.
And that magic can not be locked away forever as it will reappear if the world needs it.
But why now? What happened five centuries ago to make magic vanish? Why were you chosen for this power? And more importantly—what has caused magic to return?
This is a modern fantasy RP focused on the discovery of magic, mystery, and the dangers that come with being the first wielders of magic in an unsuspecting world. Hidden histories, supernatural threats, and the looming question of what your magic truly means as long as you can answer one question. Are you ready to find out?
Welcome to Modern Magic, a story set in a supernatural and horror-themed setting. You are arriving right at the start of a great change for the world as magic begins to creep into the fabric of our reality once more. The effects of this are yet to be seen, but all it takes is one look at the news to see that it is already being felt. From explosions that ripped through Seoul five days ago, to various campground's attacked by creatures straight out of folklore, the signs that the return of magic has had deadly outcomes are everywhere. You are going to be a first generation Witch or Warlock. This means that how your powers develop will be up to you. At the start you might be very weak with your magic, but if you practice it and work through the story you might be a great mage by the end.
However, while magic has returned and this alone has caused countless deaths, many more are to come as The Witch Hunters are mobilizing. Unlike their mage counterparts, The Witch Hunters trace their lineage back proudly and carry weapons and armors specifically designed to kill you. They have already begun to track any trace of magic their locators can detect and they have already killed several of these new mages. It is going to be a race against time to build up your strength before you are caught.
The Witch Hunters are not the only threats that you will face along this journey. Monsters, of myth and legend, are awaking at the same time. From the mighty minotaur's that ravaged ancient Greece, to the various Dragons that burned the world, these monsters are also going to be drawn to these young mages. Magic attracts magic, and the longer you linger in an area the higher the likelihood that you will encounter one. At the end of the day, despite The Witch Hunters and Monsters, you have been chosen for a reason. Magic is needed in the world again despite the risk it brings. Will you live up to your potential, or will you die like your ancestors of old? The main themes of this story are as followed: Rebirth, Identity, Emotions, and Friendship.
RULES & NOTES
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1. I will be reserving the right to deny, or kick, any players for any reason. Generally, this will not be used unless you make me use it. Do not be racist, homophobic, transphobic, or otherwise an asshole. There is nuance, as always, so I will be sure to review any situations and decide what the next course of action needs to be.
2. Be respectful towards all other players.
3. This will be as realistic of a setting as I can make it. As such, I will want realistic face claims (thus, no anime), realistic characters, and realistic decisions from those characters.
4. The RP will have its dark moments. I will do my best to avoid edgy, or otherwise cringe, moments but do note that there will be death, and there will be struggles
5. No "wip" sheets on the OOC. Post a complete sheet, or don't post anything at all. If you need something looked over, feel free to private message me. Speaking of which, the character tab is for accepted characters only.
6. Your character can die. If you put your character in a bad position the enemy will take advantage of it. Thus, play to your characters strengths and away from the enemies.
7. You're allowed to have as many characters as you can handle.
8. This is not a true super-hero story. It is more akin to shows like the magicians.
9. The lore is going to start off hidden, and be revealed as we delve through the story. Please let me know if you want any details about the lore for making a character.
10. The following abilities are banned: Magic Negation/Replication, "instant death" powers, reality-warping, anything with "Omni" attached to it, complete defense/indestructibility, and any other ridiculous ability. I will explain why if necessary.
11. While I don't have a definitive number in mind this will be first come first serve.
12. One post a week is the expectation. Life happens but if your character is gone from the posting cycle for a while I will reserve the right to either kill them off or send them upstate to the farm until you return.
13. Modern magic calls for Modern times.
14. I decide what weaknesses your spells have.
15. I can also write your magic based off your character sheet. If you want to explore this feel free to message me.
16. You will be weak. You will struggle. But you will grow.
17. All the obvious rules. ...................................................................
CS
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Character Name Here, or get a banner from 1001fonts.com
"Character quote here."
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Pronouns | Age | Ethnicity | Height (In Inches) | Weight (Pounds/LB) _______________________________________________ Single word that defines your character. _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Quote about Skills here." ___________________________________
[REMOVE THIS. A REALISTIC list of everything your character is good at. Do not make them master of everything, do not make them a living weapon. [REMOVE THIS.] [Skill name here] ⫻ (Brief (or lengthy) explanation of skill/talent here)
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Quote about appearance here."
I need a detailed understanding of what your character looks like, what they wear, and so on. Be detailed.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Quote about personality here."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ (What does your character hope to accomplish in life?)
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ (What is your character's outlook on life?)
SECRETS AND FEARS ⫻ (What is your character hiding? )
SEXUALITY ⫻ (Your character's sexual preference?)
WHAT WAS THE FIRST DAY WITH MAGIC LIKE? ⫻ (The emergence of magic was chaotic and possible destructive for so many people. What was it like for you?)
FLAWS ⫻ (What holds your character back?)
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Quote about backstory here."
Pretty standard affair. I'm not going to expect a super long essay here, just the basics and whatever.
Magic ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Quote about your magic here."
MAGIC ⫻ (Put the type of magic you wield here plus a one sentence description of what it is and what it does.)
MAGIC DESCRIPTION ⫻ (Tell me every little detail of what your magic is and does. Remember, at the start you will be weak and you may not have any named spells yet. This will change at will, with discussion, throughout the story.)
LIMITS ⫻ (What are the limits to your magic. This list will also grow as we go through the story.)
WEAKNESSES ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Extra Quote here."
MISQ SECTION
[CENTER][h1]Character Name Here, or get a banner from 1001fonts.com/[/h1][/CENTER] [i]"Character quote here."[/i] [table][row][/row][row][cell] [center][img]NO ANIME[/img] [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] [sub]First Middle Last
Pronouns [b]|[/b] Age [b]|[/b] Ethnicity [b]|[/b] Height (In Inches) [b]|[/b] Weight (Pounds/LB) [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] Single word that defines your character. [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] Skills & Talents[/sub] [i]"Quote about Skills here."[/i] [sup]___________________________________[/sup][/center][hider=] [sub][REMOVE THIS. A REALISTIC list of everything your character is good at. Do not make them master of everything, do not make them a living weapon. [REMOVE THIS.] [b][Skill name here] ⫻[/b] (Brief (or lengthy) explanation of skill/talent here)[/sub][/hider]
[/cell][cell][sub][b] Appearance[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Quote about appearance here."[/i]
[indent]I need a detailed understanding of what your character looks like, what they wear, and so on. Be detailed.[/indent]
[/cell][/row][/table][sub][b] Psychology[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Quote about personality here."[/i]
[INDENT][b]MAIN GOAL ⫻[/b] (What does your character hope to accomplish in life?)
[b]PHILOSOPHY ⫻[/b] (What is your character's outlook on life?)
[b]SECRETS AND FEARS ⫻[/b] (What is your character hiding? )
[b]SEXUALITY ⫻[/b] (Your character's sexual preference?)
[b] WHAT WAS THE FIRST DAY WITH MAGIC LIKE? ⫻ [/b] (The emergence of magic was chaotic and possible destructive for so many people. What was it like for you?)
[b]FLAWS ⫻[/b] (What holds your character back?) [/INDENT]
[sub][b] Backstory[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Quote about backstory here."[/i]
[indent]Pretty standard affair. I'm not going to expect a super long essay here, just the basics and whatever.[/indent]
[sub][b] Magic[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Quote about your magic here."[/i]
[indent]
[b]MAGIC ⫻[/b] (Put the type of magic you wield here plus a one sentence description of what it is and what it does.)
[b]MAGIC DESCRIPTION ⫻[/b] (Tell me every little detail of what your magic is and does. Remember, at the start you will be weak and you may not have any named spells yet. This will change at will, with discussion, throughout the story.)
[b]LIMITS ⫻[/b] (What are the limits to your magic. This list will also grow as we go through the story.)
[b]WEAKNESSES ⫻[/b] (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU) [/INDENT]
Twin Pines is a quaint, small town nestled along the shores of Lake Ontario. Its cobblestone streets wind through a blend of humble brick homes, small inns, and local shops. The town is built cozy, almost rustic, and the Main Street is typically filled during the summer and is well maintained. The population is a mix of races, primarily poorer folk who work the fisheries, however, humans are the dominant presence. There’s a strong sense of community, with everyone knowing each other by name and helping each other. The town’s charm is in its simplicity, and it thrives off the seasonal influx of tourists. In the summer, the main attraction is the small island named Coney Island in the middle of the lake, where two towering pine trees grow, seemingly rising directly from the water.
There are various boating and ferry services to bring people to the island itself. The island is dotted with food vendors offering local delicacies, and a vintage carousel stands at the center, surrounded by small stalls selling trinkets, souvenirs, and hand-made crafts. The veneer quickly falls off on a closer look. Half the horses on the carousel are chipped, splinters are common, and the paint is so dated that hat it’s impossible to pick out a favorite horse from a normal one. The food is of trouble quality, as are the trinkets, and everyone has a chance to leave with a stomach bug if they try the food.
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During the summer months, Twin Pines comes alive with visitors, drawn by the beauty of the island and the surrounding lakeside beaches. The beaches are filled with people lounging in the sun, swimming in the water, and enjoying the relaxing atmosphere. The carousel, with its nostalgic charm, is a favorite for families and children even if it’s no longer quite the same experience they had as children. The air is filled with the scent of saltwater, freshly cooked fish, and the sound of laughter.
When the tourist season winds down in the fall, the town shifts its focus back to its fishing route roots in full. The locals, who rely heavily on the lake’s bounty, spend the colder months fishing on Lake Ontario. The economy takes a quieter turn as the town becomes more isolated, with fewer visitors. The town’s docks, usually bustling with tourists during the summer, now host weathered fishing boats, their crews heading out to catch fish that will be sold in the markets or used for sustenance for as long as the water remains unfrozen.
There is a debate about opening the waters to fishing in the warmer months but there’s a constant discussion on sustainability, loss in tourism revenue, and eye sore that the constant fishing would bring.
The town is known for its resilience, and though the people are often struggling financially, there’s a sense of pride in their work and their land. The community holds regular gatherings at the town square, where stories of the lake and the island are shared, and locals gather for warmth and food.
The air is crisp during the fall and winter months, and while the island may not be as lively as in the summer, it still stands as a quiet, beautiful landmark, seen from the shore as a reminder of the town’s natural beauty. Twin Pines is a place where the simple joys of life take precedence, where the people live in harmony with the land and water, and where the spirit of community is the heart of the town.
.................................................................................................."Oi, you two quiet down….. THEY are waking up..."
Magic was an intrinsic force, woven into the very fabric of life itself. It is not something that was given to someone or can be learned by someone without an affinity for it, but it is something that pulses within certain individuals. A mage’s affinity is as natural as a bird’s instinct to fly or a fish’s need to swim, meaning that mages are drawn to a specific magic first but can learn how to wield them all even if at reduced effectiveness. From the moment of their birth, their magic resonates with them, subtly influencing their perceptions, their emotions, and even their physicality even if the magic itself has been gone. A fire-aligned mage might feel warmth where others feel cold, their body running slightly hotter than normal. A water-aligned mage may always feel comforted by the presence of moisture, their skin never drying out no matter the climate. This is because the bloodlines never truly died out despite the best efforts of The Witch Hunters, only going dormant.
Despite its natural presence, magic has always been a mystery. There is no divine origin, no sacred text that speaks of a moment of creation. It simply existed alongside the rise of sentient races as much as muscle and bone. Some scholars theorized that magic was a byproduct of the world itself, an energy born from the same forces that shaped mountains and oceans. Others speculated that it was the lifeblood of the earth, a fundamental component of existence like gravity or time. Whatever the truth, magic has always existed beyond the scope of mortal understanding. It has never been properly studied or explained. Even among those who possess it, no two mages are ever truly alike, their magic responding to their emotions, their desires, and the ever-shifting state of the world around them in ways unique to them like their fingerprints.
The loss of magic 2,000 years ago was, therefore, not just a disruption of power—it was a severing of natural truth, an amputation if you will, of something innate. Races that had once thrived with magic had to adapt, relying on intellect, technology, and sheer resilience to survive in a world suddenly void of its most powerful force. The knowledge of magic faded into legend, its existence doubted by many, its absence felt by none who had never known it. But for those who’s distant ancestors once wielded it there is a dull ache in the bones that can not be truly explained. Now, as magic begins to reawaken, it does not return as an external force that threatens to sunder our mountains or burn our cities but it resurfaces within an individual. And with it comes the question: if magic was suppressed, why is it no longer?
Initiate: Everyone Starts Somewhere
An initiate is every magic users first step on their way to becoming a mage. They have raw ability and can wield magic, but don’t have full control over it. To an Initiate magic is something unpredictable, wild, and destructive, and chaotic. An initiate is more likely to singe their eyebrows off than hit a target at first. It takes time, and training to get good with magic. However, like all things in life, you can get decent quickly. On average, in the past, it would take several weeks or a couple of months for an initiate to develop a steady roster of ways to apply this magic. The application of magic is called a spell. Whether you need to chant, do a series of motions with one hand, or use of a grimoire or other object to channel the magic. Eventually, once an Initiate becomes adept with their magic they transition to a great learning stage where they can become a Mage.
Mages: Keppers of the Natural Flow of Magic
Mages were the first true masters of magic, their power not learned but felt, their connection to magic deeper than mere affinity and basic spells alone. While an initiate of magic may see it as a tool, mages were conduits, seamlessly attuned to the ebb and flow of the arcane forces that permeate their bodies. They do not force magic to obey them; instead, they dance with it, listen and understand its path through their body, and harmonize with its rhythms. This innate bond made them the true forces of nature. They were also the first to comprehend its cycles, its limitations, and its infinite potential. They laid the foundation for spellcraft, shaping raw power into structured forms, and developed the earliest incantations, rituals, and magical theories that would guide civilization at the time. It was through mages that the races learned to work with magic rather than against it, using it to cultivate the land, heal the wounded, and develop new ways of interacting with the world.
Warlocks: Pioneers of the Unknown
While mages nurtured magic as a natural force, warlocks sought to bend it to their will, forging pacts with powerful beings beyond the known world. These extraplanar patrons, ancient entities of unfathomable knowledge, offered warlocks magic not through affinity but through contracts, binding their power to mortal ambition. Some sought enlightenment, trading servitude for cosmic secrets, while others desired dominion, wielding borrowed power to reshape the world in their image. Warlocks introduced the concept of structured magical hierarchy, bringing forth the first true understanding of power beyond the mortal realm. They pioneered summoning, binding, and planar travel, pushing magic beyond its terrestrial roots and into the unknown. Their discoveries expanded the boundaries of what was possible, challenging the races to think beyond their natural limits.
Mages and Warlocks have often fought in the earliest years, and a natural apprehension existed between the two forces of magic.
The Witch Hunters: The Destroyers of Magic
The Witch Hunters emerged 3,000 years ago, not out of fear of magic itself, but in response to the unchecked power wielded by mages and warlocks. As civilization advanced, magic became the backbone of society and it shaped economies, warfare, and even politics. Mages were often found at the top of every existing position of power. Yet, with such power came imbalance and mages often saw themselves as above others, while warlocks brokered dangerous pacts that threatened the stability of the world. The Witch Hunters were originally a loose collective of warriors, scholars, dissidents, and even some mages who sought to limit magical influence, acting as a counterforce to the overwhelming dominance of spellcasters. They believed that no single group should hold such absolute power over society and saw themselves as protectors of the common people. At first, they were enforcers of balance, ensuring that magic did not spiral into tyranny. But as their ranks grew and their ideology hardened, their mission shifted from control to eradication.
For centuries, the Witch Hunters waged a relentless war against magic, hunting down mages and warlocks alike. They developed countermeasures, discovering ways to sever a mage’s connection to magic and disrupt warlocks’ pacts with their extraplanar patrons. They crafted weapons and armor resistant to arcane forces, turning magic’s greatest strengths against itself. This war was brutal and unyielding—entire magical orders were destroyed, grand libraries of arcane knowledge were burned, and cities built upon magical foundations crumbled under the weight of these purges. Warlocks, desperate to hold onto their power, struck dark bargains, unleashing horrors upon the world, but the Witch Hunters adapted, developing new techniques to neutralize even these eldritch threats. Over time, their battle was no longer about justice but total annihilation. Magic had become a plague in their eyes, something unnatural that needed to be erased.
Eventually, one of these dark pacts summoned forth an Eldritch being who simply called itself The Maestro. It took the combined strength of all Witch Hunters, surviving mages, and warlocks to seal it back away. Despite this show of comradery the purges continued.
Two thousand years ago, the Witch Hunters achieved what many thought impossible when they severed magic from the world. Whether through a grand ritual, a forbidden weapon, or a pact of their own, they cut off the natural flow of magic, rendering mages weak and severing warlocks unbound from their patrons. While magic still existed it was forever weakened, and civilizations that had relied upon it collapsed, and history was rewritten by those who remained. Magic became a myth, its existence doubted by future generations, with only fragments of knowledge surviving in hidden texts and oral traditions. The Witch Hunters, not content with simply making mages and warlocks weak, continued their purges against an enemy who could no longer defend themselves. The next fifteen hundred years The Hunt culled every bloodline they could find until finally their magic detection tools grew silent.
The centuries since the order has continued, forever weary that magic will return again. However, the years have not been kind to the order. Nowadays it is more of a fraternity rather than a holy order dedicated to the preservation of their rites and ways. The Old Guard, commonly filled with families with old money, do their best to push the new generation towards the light however when an organization like this looks good on certain resumes it was bound to attract recruits who are more focused on their own future rather than the future of a magic-free life.
Plant : Plant magic, and their mages, are adept at communicating, commanding, and controlling the various plant and other fauna. An initiate can suggest actions to plants, or accidentally force them to action if their emotions get the best of them, but one can’t be a Mage until they learn how to communicate effectively.
Pyromanceryr: The manipulation and generation of flames, heat, and combustion. Pyromancers can create fire from nothing, shape it into destructive or defensive forms, and even alter temperature to extreme levels. Some master combustion itself, igniting objects or even the air around them.
Hydromancy : The control of water in all its forms: liquid, ice, and vapor. Hydromancers can shape rivers, summon rain from moisture in the air, freeze moisture into solid barriers, or extract water from the air. Masters can purify water sources or draw massive waves from deep oceans.
Terramancy : The manipulation of stone, soil, and minerals. Terramancers can shape terrain, summon barriers, and even influence the fertility of the land. Some can manipulate metals, creating weapons or armor directly from the earth.
Aeromancy: The mastery of wind, storms, and pressure. Aeromancers can summon powerful gusts, control weather patterns, and even manipulate sound waves. The most advanced can use air currents to enhance movement, glide, or create near-invisible weapons of force.
Umbramancy (Courage): The manipulation of darkness and absence of light. Umbramancers can use shadows for concealment, create constructs of pure darkness, or drain light from an area. Some can slip into the space between shadows, moving unseen or attacking from unexpected angles.
Conjuration : The ability to summon objects, creatures, or energies from other places. Conjurers specialize in bringing forth constructs, calling forth magical weapons, or even teleporting themselves and others across distances. The most skilled can summon creatures from other planes to fight for them.
Infernal: A powerful and dangerous form of magic tied to demonic or devilish bloodlines. Infernal magic is not one singular force but varies based on the Tiefling’s ancestry. Some bloodlines wield fire and brimstone, others control curses, and some command infernal beasts. The most powerful can tap into the will of their fiendish progenitors, gaining temporary boons at a great cost.
Other: There are thousands of different kinds of magic available to you. If you want to explore a specific type of magic feel free to reach out to me. As well, Warlock and Warlock pacts are not available at this time but that will change as the story progresses. If you want to make a character who becomes a Warlock once again reach out to me!
GM Notes:You WILL start weak regardless of the magic you choose but you will NOT stay weak forever. If I see anyone come up with a massively powerful spell like the World Ending Fire Storm 5000 I will find a corner and cry in it before I deny that character.
.................................................................................................."We thought they were a myth."
Devils
Devils are an ancient, powerful race that once ruled over their plane of existence known as The Infernal Dominion which is a realm of strict hierarchies, contracts, and ambition. Unlike Demons and other extraplanar entities, who embody chaos and destruction, Devils are beings of order and structure, thriving on law, control, and carefully brokered agreements.
Long before the fall of magic, Devils interacted with mortals, forming Infernal Pacts with warlocks, rulers, and scholars seeking forbidden knowledge or power. These contracts were always precise, binding the signee to their word. Entire empires rose under the guidance of Devils, flourishing through their influence, only to crumble under the weight of their bargains. The Witch Hunters saw Devils as a significant threat to the balance of the world and, in their crusade against magic, severed most connections between the mortal realm and the Infernal Dominion. This effectively trapped Devils in their own plane, cutting off their direct influence for the last two thousand years.
Though the gates to the Infernal Dominion have been closed for centuries, Tieflings, the mortal descendants of those who once made pacts with Devils, still carry their ancestral magic. Their bloodlines determine how Infernal power manifests in them, from flame-wielding sorcerers to masterful deceivers. However, with magic’s return, the question remains when these charismatic monsters will appear?
Monsters
"Another cruise ship went down this week. What is going on out there?"]
Monsters have always existed, their origins shrouded in myth, but they were never simply mindless beasts. In the earliest days, they were creatures of magic, embodiments of primal forces, nightmares made flesh, or remnants of forgotten civilizations. Some were born from the wild, shaped by the raw power of the world, while others were experiments of ancient mages or the result of infernal corruption. They roamed the land, sea, and sky, inspiring both fear and awe, becoming the foundation of countless legends.
For much of history, monsters were a part of life. Some races coexisted with them, forming fragile ecosystems where powerful beasts became sacred guardians or deadly predators. Others sought to control them—mages experimented on them, warlocks bound them to service, and warriors hunted them for glory or survival. However, as the Witch Hunters rose to power and magic waned, many monsters were wiped out. Those that relied on magic to exist vanished, while others were driven to the edges of the world, into deep caverns, uncharted seas, and the darkest forests. Without magic to sustain them, many were believed to have died out entirely, becoming nothing more than myths.
Now, with magic returning, so too do the monsters. Some awaken from centuries of slumber, others reemerge from hidden places, and some are born anew, shaped by the returning flow of arcane energy. Once again, the world must face the reality that it is not theirs alone—monsters are real, and they are no longer just stories whispered in the dark.
Humanity – The Dominant Innovators(Origin: Southern Africa | Lifespan 80-90 years)
Without magic, humans did what they do best—adapted and thrived. As the most widespread and populous race, they became the dominant force in shaping the modern world. From industrial revolutions to space exploration, humans spearheaded scientific progress, filling the void left by magic with technology. Their adaptability allowed them to assimilate and integrate all races into their societies, making human-led nations the center of global politics. While they have cities across the globe, humanity has truly flourished in the New World.
In the modern age, humanity is defined by politics, business, and media. They can talk their way out of most fights, make deals thought impossible, and are the biggest stars on the red carpet and online. Human ingenuity extends far, and their position at the top of the food change is a testament to this.
Dwarven Kind – The Industrial Titans (Origin: The Mountains of Eurasia | lifespan 95-105 years)
Without magic to shape stone and metal, dwarves became masters of engineering, construction, and industrial development. Their ancient underground cities evolved into mining hubs, factories, and high-tech facilities. Today, dwarves dominate fields like mechanical engineering, architecture, and material sciences, crafting some of the world's most durable technology and infrastructure. Their subterranean cities are often described as some of the world's modern marvels and have become a top travel destination for influencers in recent years. There is something to be said about the food quality there, which is usually negative.
In the modern world, Dwarves are known for three things: perfectionism, construction, and mining. There is a deep love of the earth and keeping her healthy among the dwarven miners, and their ability to sing to the stone is ever useful as they chase any rare material buried deep in the heart of their mountains. They are also the expert craftsman of the world. Their wares tend to be expensive, as it could take ten times as long for them to make a single item compared to the human factories, but there is no denying their quality.
Elven folk – The Keepers of Lost Knowledge (Origin: The British Isles, Ireland, and Scotland | Lifespan 175-300 years)
Once rulers of vast enchanted forests, elves turned to knowledge and culture when their magic faded. Many became scholars, doctors, and environmentalists, dedicating themselves to preserving history, nature, and the arts. Their long lifespans allow them to excel in academia and philosophy, but they often struggle with modernization and adapting to fast-changing human societies. There are rumors that they hold the last remaining tomes of Magic in hidden libraries.
In the modern world, Elves tend to find themselves as the leading academic voices. They are professors, scientists, artists, and conservationists. They are often the fiercest critics of humanity and dwarves' incessant reliance on the use of fossil fuels as many of the oldest remember the advancement of technology and how the world has warmed as a result.
Gnomes – The Tech Innovators (Origin: Swiss Alps and neighboring areas | Lifespan 125-175 years)
Gnomes, once masters of magical craftsmanship, became pioneers in science and technology. Without magic, their obsession with tinkering turned toward mechanical at first but this quickly adapted to electronics, robotics, and AI in the modern world.
Today, in the modern world, they are the backbone of the tech industry and are often founding startups, designing new inventions, and constantly pushing the boundaries of modern science.
Halflings – The Heart of Communities (Origin: Ukraine | Lifespan 100-150 years)
Halflings, once deeply connected to the land through magic, became the heart of rural and suburban life. They focused on agriculture, hospitality, and small businesses, creating tight-knit communities where tradition is valued. Their culture was built on two things, food and a good story. Over time, the amount of good stories and good food available has grown stale so a singular halfling set out to explore the world. When they returned with amazing stories, and amazing spices, many more began to leave their burrows and explore this amazing world. Today, they thrive as restaurant owners, farmers, and social workers, emphasizing community and stability in an ever-changing world. Each year Halflings who turn of age go on a pilgrimage across the world where their goal is to find new stories, make new friends, try new foods, and live the best life they can.
Orcs – The Warriors and Survivors (Origin: Eurasian Steppe through the North of Africa | Lifespan 65-85 years) Once feared as conquerors and warriors, orcs had to redefine strength in a world without magic or battlefields. They once boasted the mightiest empire that the world had seen, stretching across the entire known world at the time and they alone pushed back all the other mortal races. That was until humanity led the charge and cut their empire in half. This led to two separate Orcish empires rising in its stead, one that was more nomadic in the Asian Steppes and one that would settle down in the rich fertile lands in the middle of Africa. While they faced great adversity and hatred in the thousands of years since they survived every hardship thrown their way and have emerged as the most resilient people in the world.
In the modern world war is sparse, and as such many orcs became athletes, security personnel, and workers in physically demanding fields. Others embraced new cultural identities, thriving in music, and activism, and developing a new Orc culture. Despite their progress, they still face systemic prejudice due to their historical reputation as brutes.
Tieflings – The Charismatic Strategists (Origin: Unkown | Lifespan: 90-100)
Over generations, Tieflings have shed their devilish traits and now appear indistinguishable from humanity, save for a lingering intensity in their presence and the occasional horn and tail ridge. Historically mistrusted due to their infernal ancestry, Tieflings adapted to the modern world by leveraging their natural charisma, sharp instincts, and strategic minds. They turned adversity into opportunity, thriving in competitive and social environments where cunning and resilience are paramount.
Tieflings are predominantly urban, gravitating toward bustling cities where their talents shine. They dominate industries like entertainment, and business, excelling in roles that require negotiation, leadership, and influence. Their communities are vibrant and culturally rich, often driving the cultures of the city that soon spread out into the world. Tieflings are known for their ambition, often spearheading social movements or pioneering creative ventures.
In the modern age, Tieflings are defined by their adaptability and drive. They are the charismatic CEOs, captivating performers, and visionary leaders who shape the cultural and economic landscapes of the world. Though they have left their infernal origins behind, Tieflings remain masters of reinvention, proving that strength lies in overcoming the odds.
Goliaths remain as imposing as ever, with towering statues, rugged physiques, and an innate connection to the natural world. Historically nomadic, they thrived in harsh environments by fostering a culture of teamwork, endurance, and honor. While their physical differences once set them apart, Goliaths earned respect for their strength and reliability, carving out a place in modern society through hard work and determination. Goliaths are drawn to rural and suburban areas where they can maintain their connection to nature. They excel in physically demanding professions, from professional sports to construction and search-and-rescue operations. Most firefighters, especially volunteer stations, are Goliaths and they excel at fighting wildfires. Their communities are tight-knit and centered around mutual support, with traditions that celebrate strength, perseverance, and communal success. Despite their imposing size, Goliaths are known for their fairness and humility, valuing effort over victory.
In the modern age, Goliaths are defined by their resilience and loyalty. They are the athletes breaking records, the firefighters saving lives, and the builders shaping the world. Their grounded nature and unyielding spirit make them pillars of strength in both their communities and society at large. Tieflings and Goliaths - Shared Strength in Diversity
Despite their differences, Tieflings and Goliaths share a history of overcoming prejudice and finding their place in the modern world. Both races were initially marginalized—Tieflings for their infernal heritage and Goliaths for their imposing size—but these struggles forged a mutual respect between them. Together, they have built communities that celebrate their unique strengths, blending Tiefling ingenuity with Goliath determination. In cities where both races coexist, they form dynamic partnerships. Tieflings often lead as strategists and visionaries, while Goliaths handle execution and logistics. Their combined efforts are seen in everything from community development projects to successful businesses. Annual festivals in shared neighborhoods highlight their collaboration, with events like strength-and-strategy games that showcase their complementary skills. In the modern age, the bond between Tieflings and Goliaths is a testament to the power of unity. Together, they embody the idea that diversity is not a weakness but a strength, shaping a world where all races can thrive. As such, besides humanity, these two make up the dominant races of the New World.
Other races
There are very few other races not mentioned above, and most that do not fall into this categories are instead a blend of them. Half-Elves, for example, make up a sizable population across the world. In the past, when magic walked the land, there were thousands more but, like magic, they disappeared. What does the Modern World look like?
This modern world is much alike ours in terms of countries, technological advancements, and other signs of modern life. There is ample food, raging income inequality, and a building clash between the haves and the have-nots. There can be differences depending on what the story needs and what might make sense. The total population of the world remains the same, thus there are fewer humans and a lot more of these other fantasy races.
Across the world, there is no true land where the blending of cultures hasn’t occurred. While it was started, and truly embraced, in the new world time has a funny way of allowing races to live in relative peace with each other as old wounds have healed in the centuries since the world became blended. Still, the various nations of the world still fight for control of resources, and strategic locations, and most conflict is now focused on countries versus countries as opposed to what it was historically. There are no current war, or proxy wars, but it is only a matter of time before the next one blows up.
With the return of magic, this might be closer than we think.
[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjEwNi5iNTBiZmUuU0dWc2JHOGdZVzVrSUhkbGJHTnZiV1VzLjA,/overunder-personal-use.regular.webp[/img]
I have gone by many names over my life, and the one I go by here is Nori.
I am a non-binary individual who has a love of participating in these stories and creating my own. I am incredibly chronically ill. If my illness flares up too much I may be pulled away.[/center]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjEwNi5iNTBiZmUuU0dWc2JHOGdZVzVrSUhkbGJHTnZiV1VzLjA,/overunder-personal-use.regular.webp" /><br>I have gone by many names over my life, and the one I go by here is Nori.<br><br>I am a non-binary individual who has a love of participating in these stories and creating my own. I am incredibly chronically ill. If my illness flares up too much I may be pulled away.</div><br></div>
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