Thinslayer

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

@RogueFox
Found a few pics.
Distinct upper body, semi-transparent lower body, eyes that make her both somewhat beautiful and horrifying (as she was described)
Not terribly transparent, but her upper body is more distinct than the rest of her, and her empty eyes makes her appear less human
More on the transparent end of things. Distinctly beautiful.

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

@RogueFox
Is her appearance visually distinct, or is she more...transparent?

EDIT: Reread her CS. Looks like most of her body is a transparent white except for her face.

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

@Dark Cloud
Yo, long time no see! I'm interested in joining, if you'll have me. I'm working on a young reborn dragon character.

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

@RogueFox
I was checking out this RP, and noticed the absence of any visual reference for your wraith girl Hecate. I happen to have a nice one in mind. Wanna use it?

Shadow Lady

S E C O N D C H A N C E S (An Isekai Adventure)

Maybe we could do a dedicated nation RP, in which the PCs are all immortal Archons charged with the task of preparing the world to survive a Void invasion due in a hundred years. With humanity in a Bronze Age and all the nations fragmented, the players have a challenging task ahead of them.

S E C O N D C H A N C E S (An Isekai Adventure)

I crippled the main antagonist by removing the elements that made her antagonism necessary. In her original story, the entire kingdom has fallen under magical mind-control, and anyone not under its control appears wraithlike and incomprehensible to the victims. The spell works by visually identifying and tracking people's faces to monitor their movements and direct them accordingly. Thus, wearing a mask or other facial covering for a long enough time is sufficient to counteract the spell. Shortly before the spell's infrastructure was completed, the king launched a raid on the estate of the only two people who could stop him: the Witch and her husband. Not knowing she was also immortal, they executed her and captured her immortal husband, the man who would later become the main protagonist of the story. Enraged, the Witch travelled north to raise an army and conquer the kingdom to free its people and her man from the magical mind control.

Due to the shadowy, wraithlike appearance of the Witch and her followers, and the traumatic way those she masks break free of the mind control (seizures and frothing), the populace widely believes her to be villainous, especially since communication with her is impossible due to the magic. While the Hero clashes with her, he also unwittingly aids her cause by saving lives and bringing down Demi-Archons, through whom the mind-control spell is amplified and transmitted.

Since mind control is incredibly difficult to orchestrate and hide in a multiplayer RP, I attempted to remove it, which pulled the rug out from under the entire plot. So a rework is in order if we're to revive this thing.

Unheroic: The Backwards Castle

Wow. Isabella's attack proved far more powerful than I'd intended. Lol She just wanted to introduce a small tear in their large intestines to let the germs and poop out - getting the biggest bang for her buck, so to speak.

Unheroic: The Backwards Castle

What...can I do in a fight?

Isabella faltered. Rarely had she done anything in a fight. She'd always been a healer outside of fights. But...there was no reason she couldn't help in her own way. She had God on her side. Why couldn't she pray for her allies' protection - or her enemies' demise? If she could heal a friend, she could rot an enemy. Especially since they interrupted her conversation with Walker.

I'd tell them to rot in hell, but that's a little late for my liking.

She turned her head in the direction of Violet's voice. Oh, she would tell this wench what her power was, all right. if the girl didn't believe her, that was her problem. She replied cooly, "Then go control things with your ball. I will say a prayer for you." With that, she took a few steps back, pressed her hands together, and began to chant a prayer.

"O almighty God, lord of heaven and earth, and master of all creation, hear now my plea. Bring thou upon these dogs this curse: that their bowels shall tear, and let loose within their flesh all the hosts of filthiness inside. May the filth consume their bodies as a welcome feast, and may the creeping things unbeholden to the eyes devour them."

Isabella lifted her face toward the sky. "And...if thou wilt, protect my love with thy mighty hand. Turn aside their weapons, that nothing which harms his flesh shall smite him with a mortal blow. For this my plea, I return to thee an offering of my blood. Amen."

Unheroic: The Backwards Castle

Isabelle could hear Davon defending her off in the distance. "Stay-stay away from her! I am your enemy!!" he cried out. She clutched at her heart. He'd been wounded so horribly, yet he still had the strength of spirit within him to raise his knife to the enemy. She raised her head and offered a silent prayer to the heavens on his behalf.

Her prayer cut short when she heard a familiar voice, uttering a familiar question she'd heard so long ago: "Now, what's a saint like you doing out in a place like this?"

"Walker?..." she whispered, "Walker? Is- is that you?" She stumbled and caught herself on her cane. "Are you- are you really alive? Oh my- oh my gods. Oh Walker!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she would have rushed into his arms right then and there had not she heard a fight break out in front of him. It took her a moment, but she realized Davon had drawn a weapon on Walker. Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed.

From that moment on, Davon was nothing to her.

When at last the fight concluded, Davon was on his knees weeping, with her name on his lips. "I- I am sorry, Isabele...h-"

Isabelle put on her Kindest Face and knelt down beside him. "There there, worry not, friend. All is forgiven," she replied, her intonation calm and soothing. "What matters is that you fought in the end, right? You fought, you struggled, and you are still alive."

She touched his withered limbs and whispered a prayer for him. "O gods in heaven, restore thee this day Davon's limbs to their former state prior to the Withering, to their condition three days prior. I offer up unto thee a portion of my blood in sacrifice." Then under her breath, so quietly even one sitting next to her could not hear, she added: "And weaken the tendons in his thumbs so he shall never again wield a weapon against my love."

"Amen."

She felt the telltale tingling of magic surge in her veins as it drew power from her blood. Isabelle felt up Davon's arm and leg to ensure the spell worked, along with a subtle exploration of his thumb, before rising to her feet to find her beloved. As she made to approach him, she remembered that his was not the only voice she'd heard. There was another, a woman's voice, and a pretty one at that. From the way they spoke, he was familiar with her. A twinge of jealousy touched her, but she pushed it aside for the moment - she had more important things to attend to, like hugging Walker. She tried to pace herself at first, not wanting to look more needy for him than she was, but her methodical pace evolved into a full-on run until she collapsed into Walker's arms.

The comforting warmth of his body coaxed a hitched sob from her throat. She pressed her face into his broad chest and nuzzled into it.

Isabelle was home again at last.

Unheroic: The Backwards Castle

The moment she leaped after Walker's vanishing trail, she realized her life was over one way or another. So it was with grim determination that she lifted her crown to watch and see where the trail went. The wind rushed past her ears as she fell, its deafening roar a precursor of an end to follow. Had Walker survived this fall? Was it even possible? It didn't matter much, though. If he was dead, there was no point in living without him. If he was burning in hell, she would burn at his side. Whatever his end, she would meet it with him.

Then, she saw it.

Isabelle screamed.

A horrified, blood-curdling scream.

A splash, and her screams turned to muffled groans underneath the rushing river. As her mind struggled to comprehend the things she'd just witnessed, breath began to fail her, and soon she found herself instinctively clawing at the water around her. Down, down she sank, until thoughts of "air" or "surface" became but a distant memory.

Then just like that, she found both again. Isabelle burst from the water coughing and spluttering, mysteriously alive, but with no conception of where she was. Normally she'd never even go near any large body of water since she couldn't see the coastline, but now she was smack in the middle of one, an utterly foreign one at that. There might not even be a coastline, for all she knew.

She did know one thing, though: if Walker had fallen down here, he was probably floating in the water too.

"WALKER!" she cried out.

No answer.

"WALKER!" she cried again.

Still no answer.

Then she heard someone sob over the sound of the waves. It sounded like a woman's sob. Isabelle turned her head to identify where it came from. It sounded like it came from somewhere right next to her. When she picked a direction and began to paddle, she heard the sound again. Then she realized.

It had come from her own throat.

She was alone.

"...help..." came the whisper from her lips.

"Help."

"Anyone?"

"Please!"

"Oh gods."

The strength in her limbs began to fail, and soon the waters began to slosh at her nostrils once more. Just then, she espied the faint ember of a drifting soul in the distance. Isabelle summoned the last of her strength and swam toward it. "HELP ME, PLEASE!" she screamed. The ember flickered, a possible sign it heard her. The ember started drifting in her direction. Just as her arms finally gave out, someone grabbed her wrist and pull her up onto a wooden surface.

"Oi lass! Y'lalt a breath?" said a young man's voice in a strange accent. "O'll hells y'doin'n a place loik this?"

Isabelle hugged her arms close to her chest let out a few shuddering coughs. "I f-f-fell. Th-thank you f-for rescuing me."

"Ah nah jeh! Hardly a qualm, miss-" they lead to encourage her to introduce herself.

"Isabelle."

"S'moity proper a name... Moine's Davon. Tha pleasures mine, if'n oi may."

Isabelle adjusted the crown over her eyes and buried her head between her knees. She could almost feel the man staring at her as he rowed quietly back the way he came. And why shouldn't he? He'd just found a well-dressed priestess floating in the middle of nowhere. That would shock the words right out of anybody.

She lifted her head and smiled at him. "How can I ever repay you for saving my life, Devon?"

Davon awkwardly scratched his head and chuckled, a blush hidden by her blindfold as they boldy considered. "Sh't...ah, oi can think a few ways a lass loik y'self can start, ah?"

"Oh! You have but to name it, kind sir!" she replied, oblivious to his meaning.

"A-AH! W-Well..." he began, now a little nervous about exploiting her naivete, "Y'moit...y'know...show me...a good toim'n oll...when we get back, ah?"

Entertaining people certainly wasn't her forte, to be sure, but it was the least she could do for someone who'd just saved her life. Isabelle clasped her hands and replied, "Then I shall do my absolute utmost to entertain you! I cannot promise to be very good at it, but for you, I shall try my best! Do you prefer dancing, japes, or perhaps a bit of playacting?"

The man let out a long sigh, followed by an exasperated chuckle which a soft grin could almost be heard behind. "Ah hells, f'get it. Tha soft voice ouf a lass loik y'self. S'nuff fer me an tha boys. Long roads, good company, ah?"

"Are you quite sure? My dancing isn't terrible."

Devon burst out laughing. "NAH! Nah jeh jeh.. Oi'm 'eaded back ta join mi'friends, Kedvin and his crew. Oi'll insist ye accept hospitality woill ya recover, ah?"

Isabelle smiled. "That would be lovely, Devon. Thank you."

---

How wrong everything had gone.

Just when she thought she'd found someone she could rely on, the gods had to come and take them away from her. She could still hear their horrified screams as that creature rampaged through the camp, snuffing out their glowing embers without so much as breaking a sweat. Isabelle prayed her hiding spot concealed her, since she had no way to discern whether she was actually visible. The most she could do was stifle her breath and hold still. Hunters were drawn to motion, to change, and if she held as still as she possibly could, she would be less noticeable even if she were otherwise visible. She did not come out from her hiding spot until she heard friendly voices in the distance.

One of them sounded vaguely familiar.

Isabelle emerged from the brush and stumbled in the direction of the voices, her cane unslung from her back in case she had to defend herself.