The Realm of Gods (Peregrine x Nemopedia)

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Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
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One on One Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
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One Post a Day, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
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On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#1
OOC

A crowd of people had gathered in the streets of Nervarus. They hummed and jeered in equal measure, maintaining a careful distance from each other lest the light-fingered in the crowd reach into an unwary pocket, or someone take the opportunity to slip a knife between unguarded ribs.

There was good reason why Nervarus was known as the Dark City, or the City of Evil Gods. Those who roamed within its walls were all but lawless by the standards of any civilized culture. Blood filled the streets, assassins roamed through shadows, and strength determined all. But that did not mean that Nervarus did not have rules. The High Priests of the Evil Gods laid down the rules, and those who chose to dwell within Nervarus had to follow them, or face the consequences. And no one wanted to face those consequences.

But that did not mean that the rule-abiding, or those who had the power or guile to fake it, did not get some twisted pleasure at seeing the bill come due for those who had stepped over the line. Whether it was due to simple schadenfreude or some twisted sadistic pleasure, the citizens of Nervarus gathered in droves when a cry went up that an execution was imminent.

Today in particular, those who took pleasure in such things found themselves blessed. Some strange combination of timing and coincidence had brought five people to be executed at once, all of whose crimes were so heignous that the God of Blood deemed their blood unfit to touch the streets of the bloodsoaked Nervarus, and the God of Massacre had proclaimed their souls unworthy of the touch of a weapon from any of his executioners.

To them had been sentenced the worst of all deaths, an execution reserved for those who had directly offended the gods themselves, who had broken the highest order of rules in the city of Nevarus. They were to be cast down into the Abyss, to be hounded by the Voidlings until their souls gave out and they were torn to shreds. They were given the sentence of believing escape might be possible, only for that hope to be inevitably torn from them when their essence was rent to bits and devoured by the Void, never to return to the gods they worshipped.

The people gathered on the inner edge of Nervarus, where the city had been built right up to, and occasionally just over, the cliff that marked the edge of the Abyss, a black scar that sundered the land into fragmented pieces. Green eyes blinked up from its depths, surrounded by masses of midnight purple tendrils that reached up from the edge, only to draw back at the touch of black divine light that protected the edge of the city.

Five cages were hung over the edge of the Abyss, each containing a person, and each one surrounded by a bubble of black light that was the only thing to fend off the feelers that reached up from below. Trapped in the man-sized cages were three women and two men, each expressing their reconciliation with their fate in different ways. Two of the women spat and swore, rattling the bars of the cage or taunting those on the outside. As though in direct contrast to their noise, the final woman stood as still as a sentinel, one hand clasped in a death grip around the hilt of the sword hung to her waist, while a grimace warped her scarred face into an even more twisted visage. Her eyes seemed to skate over the hoards that had gathered at the edge of the cliff to watch their execution, but even she couldn’t completely ignore the feelers that rose up from the depths, lashing out in agitation at her cage. Every time they moved, her knuckles would witen on her sword, as though hoping she’d somehow be able to fight her way out of this face.

The two men in the cages seemed even more resigned to their fate than the third woman. They didn’t even bother to stand, instead slumping against the metal bars, heads buried in hands, eyes vacant and defeated. They ignored the jeering of the crowd in the way the crowd ignored the crude or provocative shouts of the two women, with bland indifference.

When the crowd of onlookers had grown to its peak, a woman dressed in black with a feathered red cape appeared from nowhere in a swirl of smoke, perched on top of one of the beams that held the cages suspended over the Abyss. The woman in the cage below her screamed in frustration, throwing herself at the top of the cage in a futile attempt to clasp one clawed hands around the woman’s polished black boots. Every time she got close, a haze of black light, exactly matching the glow that blocked the tendrils from below, would appear to obstruct the woman’s hand. No matter how hard she tried, she was incapable of penetrating it.

The woman perched on top of the cages surveyed the gathered crowd, and the people seemed to unconsciously fall silent under the weight of her gaze. Within only a few moments the rumble of conversation had faded into perfect silence, broken only by the continued shouts of the two restless women, who seemed immune to whatever effect had silenced the crowd.

Marielye, High Priestess of the God of Crime, spread her arms wide, the red cape billowing out behind her like a river. She seemed to well understand the crowd that had gathered before her, because she didn’t bother with a sermon, or explaining what crime her victims had committed to be sentenced to such a gruesome fate. She stepped immediately into the action.

“You have broken the rules of Nervarus,” she proclaimed, her voice seeming to cut right through the shouts of the caged women, easily reaching the ears of all listeners. “And now you shall face the punishment for your wrongs.”

She laughed lightly, an airy sound that seemed in contrast to the blackness that had gathered around her. “I dare you to hope!” she told the caged people, still laughing. With a wave of her hands, the black film of light that had surrounded the cage shrunk inwards, wrapping around their forms and crushing their arms to their sides. “The Blessing of Darkness shall keep you safe for three days. Find a way to escape your fate, we dare you! We shall enjoy your struggle, destined to inevitable failure.”

Then, with a stomp, the bottoms of the cages fell open, sending the five people plunging downwards into the Abyss.
 
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Nemopedia

Storms lie. A breeze it becomes. A breath it ends.
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Genre You DON'T Like
Romance
#2
“My crime, I demand to know my crime!”

It was the one line Tirza had repeated, over and over until her voice grew coarse, unable to carry her over the cursing crowd who all so vehemently believed in her evil and in the just of the ruling that was about to be passed upon her. Yesterday she had been a free child of the wild, riding the horses and planning ambushes on the outsiders. Now she had been humiliated, chained up and paraded around in the crowd without a grain of remorse, without any reason or trial. She may have been a barbarian in their eyes, but Tirza was still aware of the way these pompous people lived under their gods!

However, did she speak their language? Did she know their diplomacy? To all these questions she had to answer negatively. While aware of the differences in culture she didn’t understand. While she knew that they had a form of a system, just as her tribes knew one, they were incomparable. Where the tribes valued strength, where scars were symbols of honour and where going down in a fight was the greatest judgement of the rulers the city did it differently.

“You dishonourable crippled bitch,” Tirza was still screaming as the verdict was passed, her eyes burning with a promise to survive and show this god what she was made of. She didn’t care that this was a high priestess blessed by an ignorant god. There were so many of them, just as there were numerous gods and her people had survived without them.

Screaming the female went down. Not in fear, but as a promise. It was an exclamation of revenge and Tirza having always fulfilled her promises was determined to fulfill this one. This was just a mere trial of fate to test her strengths, she was sure of it.

Meanwhile Barthy had an entirely different reaction to the whole prosecution. He had never been known for his great luck, and after bedding the daughter of the high priestess it was no surprise either that this was where the line was drawn. Rape, they accused him of! As if the lady hadn’t thrown herself at him with many flirtations and ministrations, but alas. They were caught and he was charged without his voice ever being taken seriously.

Four others were to go down that feared hole. It reassured the man that he wouldn’t be alone in that dark place. That he wouldn’t be alone in his last moments. Though not all seemed reasonable, two screaming as the floor gave way, but the rest seemed reasonable enough, if not quiet.

Closing his eyes the man embraced his fate. He was lucky to have turned the age he did, despite all and perhaps that was the only bit of fortune fate had blessed him with.

The fall wasn’t hard, though far. Surprisingly enough Barty had landed into a bed of what felt like hay, blowing the wind out of his lungs before he rolled his way down to the hard bottom. There he kept still for a few moments, pretending to have lost consciousness from the fall, but then deciding that he didn’t like the ground so much and the uncertainty of whatever this room was. Sitting up he looked dazed, surprised to see the gaping hole to be a room with tunnels leading into all directions, all darker than the other and leading to an unknown destination.

He wasn’t sure what was more cruel. Disallowing them to die from the fall, or igniting the smallest flicker of hope.
 
Last edited:

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
SITE SUPPORT
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#3
The five people fell for an indefinite period of time, more than long enough that anyone who had jumped down unprotected would have found themselves little more than a smear on the ground upon landing. However, the black bubble slowed their fall just enough that they landed heavily. but far from deadly. Far above, Elisha could just make out the little black dots that had been their cages until just a few moments before, swaying slowly from some combination of wind and their struggles before that sudden plunge. Elisha was still clinging tightly to her sword, but the feeling of eyes on the back of her neck forced herself to her feet mere instants after she landed.

She and the other four victims were surrounded by a dark haze, punctuated by the occasional glowing green lights. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had been staring at those same glowing orbs for so long, Elisha would never have recognized them as eyes through the dark fog. Her grip tightened, wearing into the familiar grooves of her sword, but the things in the darkness didn’t move any closer. They seemed almost blinded by the dark shields that surrounded the five victims, not able to take more than a glance before moving on. Elisha knew that would only last so long.

For now, though, she had three days to try and find a way out of this situation, or perish in the attempt. Her eyes turned to survey the other people who had fallen with her, ready to move or strike should they show any hostile movements in her direction. These were the worst of the worst criminals of Nervarus. There was no telling what they might do, given the smallest of provocations.

Elisha wasn’t the only one to have worked her way to her feet. The other two women had gotten up almost as quickly as Elisha, and were watching her warily. The men, on the other hand, still laid where they had fallen, partially curled up upon themselves from the impact. Elisha kept most of her attention on the two other women, confident that she would be able to react to the men before they could get themselves off the ground, even if one of them had now sat up.

Gritting her teeth slightly, Elisha glared at the two women. “Move along now,” she all but barked. “I have no desire to fraternize with criminals

Her words were immediately met by a burst of laughter from the dark haired woman covered in scraps of brightly colored fabric. “You’re one to talk, scarface,” she replied, her voice surprisingly melodic, even after all the shouting she’d been doing only a few moments before. “Who was in a cage with the rest of us?”
 

Nemopedia

Storms lie. A breeze it becomes. A breath it ends.
SECURITY DEPARTMENT
The blubbing encyclopedia
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Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
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Slow As Molasses
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No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both, depending how much there is going on already.
Favorite Genres
Tragedy, Psychological, Historical, Steampunk, Mystery, Thriller, Sci-fi, see tag list for more...
Genre You DON'T Like
Romance
#4
“Say that again,” Tirza spat at the woman, offended by the accusation served. She had already been slandered and judged, now to be judged once more by someone who was no equal to her and damned to the same fate? She couldn’t let that slide, and as she was about to bolt forward to the armoured woman a rumble from the tunnels stopped her.

Turning around she twirled her dagger in hands, standing ready to defend and fight whatever may come. Another rumble was heard, as if something big was moving through limited space calloused skin scraping across the walls. Big and strong it sounded, awakened from its slumber and moving around in its search for them.

Barty let himself fall back into the hay again, looking up at the sky longingly. “Are you here to look pretty instead?” the man tried to joke, folding his arms behind his head. Suddenly the heavens above him didn’t seem so dull anymore. Now that he had been pushed down this hole everything outside seemed brighter.

“If so, that bitch has terrible taste.” he eyed the scarred woman, a crooked smile playing across his lips before he returned to cloud watching.

“You can explore by yourself if we aren’t worth your presence, I will contemplate my last three days in peace here,” Barty continued, twirling a string of hay between his fingers. It had already been predicted. Three days, nothing more and the man certainly had never heard of anyone escaping this place before. Never in the years he had lived, which had well passed four decades.

In short, Barty decided to give up.

Once more a rumble was heard. This time louder, shaking the air around them and sending a wave of warm and putrid air from out of one direction. Freezing up the group turned towards the direction from where it had all come from, two tunnels coming into sight where beyond the darkness flashes of green could be seen.

“Don’t recommend that direction,” Barty scoffed, having pushed himself up again. Though he knew that there was no wisdom in staying either. Who knew when the beast would worm its way through the tunnels here?

Rolling her eyes at the older man Tirza straightened up again, deciding that she didn’t want to fight anymore with the unknown monster breathing down their throats. Cursing her luck within her mind she gave the group their first good look:

’A stuck-up, two good-for-nothings and …’ Tirza couldn’t make up what the last woman was, yet. Tirza just hoped that she was easier to get along with than the other along with a determination to survive.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
SITE SUPPORT
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#5
Mara felt herself almost stagger as the tunnel shook, bending her knees and tensing up to regain her balance. Unlike the other two women, Mara had not been in possession of a weapon when she'd been captured. She'd always relied more on charm and wit to get herself out of trouble, rather than brute force. Such inclinations weren't going to be helpful to her now, but she doubted the two little metal blades that the other women desperately clung to were going to be of much help either.

"Well, I'm afraid we're all stuck with each other for now," she said instead, gesturing to the cavern around them. Aside from the hole in the ceiling, which was evidently blocked by the same purple barrier that surrounded each of the five, there were only two available passages. One was currently shaking and glowing with green light. "Unless someone wants to stay and get squashed by whatever's coming for us. These barriers might be good for the miasma, but I don't think they'll stop us from getting eaten by giant monsters." Her gaze was firmly leveled at Barty now. She didn't particularly have any desire or reason to save him, but he would make a somewhat adequate meat shield when Mara found herself in a situation she couldn't get herself out of. "So what do you say we all start moving, you know, away from here?" As though to prove her point, she turned towards the other cavern, setting out with a quick stride.

Elisha found herself unconsciously grinding her teeth, and forced herself to relax a little bit. The other woman was right. If she wanted to live, she was going to have to move, and right now that meant traveling with everyone else. Besides, it wasn't like they were actually traveling together, they simply happened to be traveling in the same direction for a moment. When they reached the next split, she'd pick her direction, and whether someone else picked the same way or not was not her concern. She heard the faint rustling of fabric, and assumed that the two men on the ground were getting up to follow along after them. It wasn't until she suddenly heard the sound of footsteps getting further away that she turned around in surprise, and realized the man in the heavy, tattered robe was walking towards the other tunnel.

"Hey," she found herself unconsciously barking out. "You're going the wrong way!"

He kept walking at the same, slow pace, as though he hadn't heard her. Elisha shook her head, a frustrated sigh passing her lips. It was fine. It wasn't like he was her problem. What difference did it make to her if he wanted to go commit suicide? She told herself this repeatedly, but still somehow found herself quickly jogging over to him, reaching out one hand to close over his shoulder. "I"m talking to you!"

It wasn't until she forced him to turn around that she suddenly caught sight of the murky cast to his irises, and pale green hue of his skin under the layer of bandages that mostly covered his face. She found herself recoiling unconsciously, a garbled swear passing her lips. "Plaguebearer!"

He finally seemed to hear her. Something dark filled his gaze, and he bobbed his head once, slowly. Then, he turned around and resumed walking. Elisha found her lips wrinkling in a look of disgust. "I don't think even your poison will be enough to kill that thing," she spat out, resolutely turning away. "But, who knows? Maybe your mistress will be pleased by the attempt. Go get yourself eaten." With that final, parting comment, she turned and marched away.

Aeron had been entirely certain he was going to keep marching until he reached whatever in that cavern was making all the noise. His head was pounding, and the constant sense of nausea that had accompanied him since his transformation into a plaguebearer seemed to have only become worse since his capture. He was going to die anyways, and he didn't want to have to bear with another minute of this strange, tortured reality he'd been living for so many years. However, the Paladin's words unexpectedly brought him to a halt.

She... wasn't wrong. Even Aeron didn't fully understand the countless poisons and toxins that ran through his system. The creatures down here might have been created by a coalition of the Evil Gods, but he was certain that his Mistress had not participated in this creation. What would happen if these creatures ate him? They might be fine, but wouldn't his goddess consider it a great triumph if her plague was able to infect the other gods' creations? The idea sent an unconscious shudder racing through his system, and he hesitated. He'd been ordered here to try and enact her will. He was certain he'd failed when he'd allowed himself to be captured without infecting anyone. Would his sacrifice really be in vain if he was eaten down here?

Slowly, uncertainly, he found himself turning around.
 

Nemopedia

Storms lie. A breeze it becomes. A breath it ends.
SECURITY DEPARTMENT
The blubbing encyclopedia
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Slow As Molasses
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Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both, depending how much there is going on already.
Favorite Genres
Tragedy, Psychological, Historical, Steampunk, Mystery, Thriller, Sci-fi, see tag list for more...
Genre You DON'T Like
Romance
#6
“Curse my luck,” Barty suddenly crawled up from his straw bed, annoyed and a little scared for his life. Though condemned to death the man still hadn’t embraced it entirely, yet. The choice between the monster and the plaguebearer both equally as unpleasant.

“Have that plaguebearer walk ahead of us,” the man spoke up, deciding to take the gamble. Whatever the plaguebearer carried the monster could die, in someway. Otherwise Barty hoped that the plaguebearer tasted bad enough for it to leave the rest alone. “He seems eager to die anyway,” Barty followed, rubbing the base of his neck.

He did feel a little bad for condemning the only other man in the group. Though he really couldn’t think of anything better.

Tirza didn’t want to cooperate. Not with the stuck up of a paladin that thought herself above the rest. However, the roar from earlier along with the quake and smell it brought had the woman decide that there was no time to talk about pride.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to help any of you,” she growled, not looking at anyone in particular. Half of them didn’t see worth the saving anyway.

“That tunnel, right?” Tirza positioned herself in front of the only tunnel that didn’t emit any dangers from its path, leering in to see how far it went. Darkness that went on and on. The female wasn’t sure how to feel about that, with the monster looming up ahead.

“It is dark. Some light would be nice,” she spoke, turning around to see what there was available. Feeling her pockets she pulled out two firestones, turning towards the group. “We can use the straw as markers of our path, in case we get lost,” Tirza mused, staring at the heap. “It will make us easier to find if that beast is of any intelligence, however,” she rebutted herself, thinking harder.

“What do you think? A fire and we go in?”
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
SITE SUPPORT
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#7
Mara quickly glanced around at the other members of this little group they'd created, and quickly determined that the rest of them were going to be too useless to provide anything meaningful to Tirza's question. So, she took it upon herself to be the voice of wisdom in this situation.

"No fire," she responded promptly. "If the creatures down here were dumb enough that they can't follow a flaming path, this place wouldn't be so dangerous. Besides, a torch left sideways on the ground would burn out in less than an hour. There's no benefit for the risk we'd be taking." Mara shook her head slightly, before continuing to walk deeper into the tunnel. Something flashed in her eyes, like the glint of a light reflecting mirror-like off a cat's eyes. "I hope you have a way to navigate in the dark."

"Other than straw, none," Tirza responded, feeling the dried grass before picking up a bale. "No fire," she heaved as she took an armful and pushed it into the arm's of the paladin. A nonchalant look, an arch in her brow exchanged before she turned around to gather more. As soon as she turned away, Mara caught sight of the paladin allowing the straw to fall to the floor, her hand going instead to close around the hilt of her sword, which momentarily emitted a faint glow. Despite that, her eyes still hadn't left the Plaguebearer, who was now shuffling towards the other tunnel with the same slow shuffle he'd used to approach the monster.

"I'm pretty used to hunting in the nights." Mara glanced back towards the Wildling, who was still gathering straw. "But I don't know about you city people," she continued, again a look was thrown into the direction of the paladin as if to challenge her.

"Then you lead?" Barty was quick to propose such, but shrunk a little as the young female gave him a glare. Mara wasn't surprised at his fear. Wildlings were something else, savage and raw, both too much of it. Raising up his hands the older man returned an innocent look. "Just suggesting, I don't have night vision."

Quickly the man followed Tirza's example in gathering straw, just to get her to glare him off and have the savage return to her contest with the paladin, who continued to ignore her as though she was nothing more than air. "If we take away enough, the next person to fall in will have better mercy," Barty mused, eyes lifted up at the hole gaping above them.

That earned a snort of ridicule from Mara. If their executioners were that sloppy, then they'd all get out of here easy. "If you've all had enough chatter," Mara said, voice fake friendly. "I think it's time to follow the lead of the ragman and get out of here." The implicit 'before that thing shows up' she left unsaid.

Mara turned around and headed into the tunnel, her long stride quickly allowing her to catch up to the Plaguebearer. All the same, she kept her distance from him, having no desire to accidentally brush against his robe and find herself infected with some strange pathogen.

"Order!" Barty gasped, suddenly hesitant as the group paused. "What will our walking order be?" he breathes, a nervous look cast over his shoulder to the paladin behind him. He was being genuine with his question, despite the foul look that Tirza threw at him.

"You get to walk at the back," the Wildling gave him before pushing past and entering the tunnels after the Plaguebearer and Mara. However, when Mara glanced back again a few moments later, she found the skinny man walking in front of the tight-lipped paladin, who still had one hand tightly grasping the hilt of her sword.

It took less than 20 steps for the light from the hole in the ceiling to start to taper off, and only another dozen or so steps beyond that before it was swallowed completely. This wasn't the first time Mara had been underground, and she knew that was unnatural. She should have been able to see the light if she looked back, at least until they rounded the first bend. But it was like the air itself was swallowing the light, pressing in against her, filling her lungs with sticky black tar that made it hard to breathe. More psychological pressure, designed to drive them towards madness, to make them sloppy. The only good thing about it was that it also swallowed the terrifying tremors coming from whatever massive monster was working its way towards them.

Well, good, that was, until Mara realized that also meant she wouldn't have any way of knowing when it was getting closer. Then she found herself imagining it was waiting around every corner.

Almost unconsciously, the proud woman found herself slowing, drawing closer to the people who followed her. Somehow, as she got closer to the light that came off the paladin's sword, she found the pressure on her chest fading slightly. Holy magic? Or simply another trick of her imagination. Mara didn't know. The paladin was certainly clutching the sword tightly, as though waiting to draw it and slice through something at the smallest provocation. Her eyes darted about, pupils dilated wide. Clearly, she couldn't see anything beyond the small bubble of light her sword provided.

The paladin obviously wasn’t the only one on high alert. Despite Tirza’s abrasiveness earlier, the female was tense and ready for action when she entered the tunnel. She appeared to have, at least temporarily, set aside her self-imposed rivalry with the paladin, in favor of keeping her eyes peeled and her ears focused. Every once in a while Mara would catch sight of the woman dropping some hay, to mark their path. A tail of bread crumbs for their potential pursuers to follow, but Mara found herself unable to complain. In this darkness, she couldn’t help but worry about them getting turned around.

Especially in comparison with Tirza, Barty seemed the exact opposite, nervous, jittery and easily distracted. The older man was clearly a coward despite his hardened face. He was lucky that the paladin had such a soft heart despite her harsh visage, or he definitely would have been walking in the rear.

As for the Plaguebearer... he was still slowly shuffling in the lead, head bowed in resignation. At the very least, if there were any traps waiting down this corridor, he'd trigger them first…

Almost as though in answer to her trace of a thought, some, shadowy tendril of darkness lashed out from the wall, coiling around the Plaguebearer. It wiggled for a moment, before a noise so high pitched that Mara could barely hear it echoed through the corridor like a scream. Mara winced, covering her ears with her hands, even as she watched the tendril wither and pull back from the other man, before crumbling away to dust on the floor. Gods above. How potent were the poisons that had been imbued into his skin?

Mara didn't have any longer to wonder about it, though, as the walls practically came alive with writhing tendrils. They stretched out from the walls and ceiling like grasping hands, filling the entire corridor with a manic hissing. Mara skittered to the center of the corridor, less than half a foot out of reach of the tendrils that reached out from either side.
 

Nemopedia

Storms lie. A breeze it becomes. A breath it ends.
SECURITY DEPARTMENT
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Both, depending how much there is going on already.
Favorite Genres
Tragedy, Psychological, Historical, Steampunk, Mystery, Thriller, Sci-fi, see tag list for more...
Genre You DON'T Like
Romance
#8
“I would really appreciate a fire!”

Barely a few steps in and shadowy tendrils made their way, trying to grasp for limbs that came within reach. Barty froze up, arms clenched to his side and legs pressed together so tight he could feel his nether regions go numb. Back was impossible, the paladin was in the way and she would probably want to draw her weapon. However, the way forth even more so, the man was terrified to know what was ahead.

Around him his companions started to move. Tirza had dropped the hay and pulled her knife, lashing out at the tendrils that came for her. It was hard to tell if she actually caught anything, but sometimes Barty could swear he saw chunks fly around and drop to the floor in a goop, goop, goop followed by a hiss and the faint shadow of said chunk crawling over the ground.

Much alike to Barty the Plaguebearer also stood motionless, but in a different manner and for a moment the man was envious of the other. The tendrils didn’t dare to come near the Plaguebearer anymore, fearing whatever it was that he carried.

Carrying no weapon on his body Barty was, quite frankly, useless in the fight with the arms of the shadows. So, when one of the tendrils managed to circle around his feet the man suddenly found himself dangling upside down with only a yelp that served as ‘help’ as he was shaken and thrown around violently. Slimy and thick the tendril wrapped itself tighter around his leg, intent on dragging the older man into the darkness, towards the green at the end that saw all despite the lack of light.

“Oh no, no, no,” he heard the savage yell, swinging around her knife dangerously and sometimes getting a little too close to his face for comfort. All the while Barty hung around dazed, for some reason unable to scream as the tendrils pulled at his leg while Tirza pulled at his arm.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
SITE SUPPORT
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#9
"Honestly..." With a sigh of complaint, Elisha lunged forward, faintly glowing sword flashing through the air to slice down the vines that drew near to her. With quick bursts of swordplay, she waded herself through the attack in Barty's direction. A moment later and her blade swung through the tendril that was binding his ankle, setting him free to crash to the ground.

Barely pausing long enough to make sure that a second tendril didn't reach out to grab the unfortunate man again, Elisha waded her way back to the center of the corridor, taking in slow, deep breaths of air as she came to a halt outside of the range of the dark feelers.

The corridor, which had once been easily large enough for people to walk ten abreast, had narrowed to something barely larger than the size of a door. Except, instead of having solid stone to either side, they were now surrounded on three sides by writhing masses of purple tendrils. Elisha couldn't help but frown.

"Why leave the space?" she mumbled, her eyes turning back in the direction they'd come from, before looking ahead on past her four new, albeit temporary, comrades. "Why not just fill the whole hallway."

"Psychological pressure," Mara replied, almost casually. "If we're careful, we'll probably be able to live for the next three days. I think they just want to watch us break down in that time." She laughed then, as though ridiculing whoever had concocted such a plan.

"Come on," the woman said a moment later, breaking into a jog to catch back up with the Plaguebearer, who still had yet to stop shuffling forward like a wind-up toy. "Keep moving. Or don't. I don't really care what the rest of you do."
 

Nemopedia

Storms lie. A breeze it becomes. A breath it ends.
SECURITY DEPARTMENT
The blubbing encyclopedia
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
GMT +1/2 | CET/CEST | Random, mostly on my phone
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both, depending how much there is going on already.
Favorite Genres
Tragedy, Psychological, Historical, Steampunk, Mystery, Thriller, Sci-fi, see tag list for more...
Genre You DON'T Like
Romance
#10
“And we are the supposed savages.” Tirza clicked her tongue indignantly. The thought that this was a mere game to another sickened the wildling. The misunderstandings citizens had of her tribe, along with their misunderstanding of the walled people had always been a clashing point. Her people had considered them weak-willed and stubborn, while they were considered to be savage and wild. Tirza disagreed.

“My people takes no pleasure in torture and terror,” she growled, eyes trained to the end of the hall. Still on alert the wildling didn’t sheath her weapon, her senses sharp while she kept an especially careful eye on the tendrils surrounding her.

“No, your people just slaughter,” came the impulsive response from Barty who had finally gathered his wits together. Tirza snarled a silence at him to which the man promptly listened, not wanting to get into a fight with the Wildling like the Paladin had done.

“Only the strongest survive. To be beaten means death, not slaughter.” Tirza’s response was clipped as she lashed out to the few tendrils that overreached.

The hall seemed to be going on endlessly with only a dim green light flickering ominously at them. The tendrils surrounding them growing thicker and denser.

“Can’t we use the Plaguebearer to sear them away?” Tirza huffed, finding that the tendrils were becoming more and more violent the deeper they went in. As if it realised that they were advancing.

A scream came from the front, high and shrill. “Plaguebearer?” the Wildling called for the front, but was instead met with a dark oversized tendril that had terrifyingly enough developed a mouth.

Ducking away Tirza dodged the tendril as she plunged her knife into its mass. Another shriek was heard as the knife pinned the creature to the floor. Wriggling and spasming the face-like tendril tried to charge forwards into the direction the group had just come from, as if desperately trying to run from something.

Barty cursed loudly as the being tried to snap at his ankles, terrified of what it was they had encountered, but even more so for whatever was ahead of them.