Pit of Horrors

[Sylent Hyll]

Uriel the Mad Genius
Underappreciated, underrated, underestimated, and untolerated!​

Race: Cecaelia
Class: Artificer/Alchemist
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Gay

Uriel is based on Eberron & the Forgotten Realms of D&D lore. He's amphibious and a mad inventor who's been banned from every intellectual establishment that can (or will) communicate with one another due to his penchant for bizarre and sometimes horrific experiments. He's known for taking brigands and highwaymen into his temporary employ as a ruse to gain test subjects but the monsters he creates are anything but humanoid. His greatest invention to date he calls miraculum; it is a living dark-purple goo that is viscous, sticky, and slimy but has many potential uses. His brilliance in mixing alchemy and machines is unmatched (or so he claims). He has one sister, Ursula, about whom very little is known by others. Most people believe he's a svirfneblin (a deep gnome), albeit a rather odd-looking one, as he keeps his tentacles hidden.

Inspirations
Ursula (The Little Mermaid)
D&D 5e Lore & Rules
Phobies (Steam game)
Dr. Frank's Build A Boyfriend (Steam game)

The following has been posted on my DA but is also here for convenience [spoiler due to length]:

See more

Let me tell you a story about an alchemist who became so obsessed with his work that he neglected his boyfriend until the man left him and his favorite bird until it died - and that’s when the true horror began. The gnome was one of those whose brilliance comes along once in several lifetimes but he was…troublesome. Problematic. He was warned…not once but multiple times. His experiments were inhumane and conducted, probably unwillingly, on brigands and highwaymen kidnapped with his inventions.

The gnome loved his boyfriend dearly; that much was clear. The only thing he loved more than his boyfriend was that pet cassowary of his. But the boyfriend grew cold, unable to handle being abandoned for alchemy by his beloved artificer, and so abandoned the man. So he turned to his only remaining friend: the cassowary. But as with his boyfriend, he became increasingly neglectful, and the bird perished. Desperate, he replaced the bird’s heart and its natural ability to speak with a mechanical heart and voice box; each bore tiny iron rods wrapped with copper wire that was pushed through individual diodes; the other end of each wire was wrapped around another tiny iron rod, and each of these secondary rods was plugged into a dragonshard that replaced its brain. He called the entire setup a one-way arcanomagnetic circuit with a data core. He soaked the bird in formaldehyde at some point in the process to preserve it, and now the bird seems to live again - only it really doesn’t.

Driven by regret and a deep depression, he turned to anger toward his boyfriend and convinced himself that the man was a cheat and a liar. He vowed to create the perfect boyfriend: one who would not abandon him, who would not lie to him or cheat on him, and one who was completely loyal - forever. And he conveniently forgot his regret, as the mix of emotions drove him mad. He became ever more obsessed with his work, and eventually he was kicked out of Castle Lacarnum by Lord Bronte Lacarnum himself and banned from every intellectual establishment that could communicate with one another.

But this was not the end. Oh, no - far from it. Somehow, he managed to sneak back into this establishment with one of his inventions - a platform that rested on eight mechanical, spider-like legs and with a dragonshard set into the center of it. From us, in addition to a number of pieces of equipment and a wealth of materials and alchemical components, he stole a large number of very large diamonds that had yet to be cut and polished. Using magic and ingenuity, he cut and shaped and polished the diamonds into a very large beaker set into the platform, even shaped around the inserted dragonshard. This beaker is what he used to brew his miraculum. Exactly what it is, we’re not sure. It’s a dark-purple, viscous, sticky, slimy…goo.

This miraculum of his is remarkable, however. It can produce a noxious vapor that makes the eyes water, dries out the skin, clogs the sinuses, and chokes you until you suffocate. It does disperse in time, allowing you to breathe once more. When you awaken, the residue that has set in must be removed via a potent healing potion - a Potion of Superior Healing, perhaps - or a powerful healing spell, such as a highly concentrated Cure Wounds spell. If it isn’t dealt with rather swiftly - within three days, we’ve found - the residue begins to eat through you, starting with your lungs. While you can be healed thereafter, what is lost cannot be recovered, at least not naturally. It’s a particularly nasty bit of vapor, but that’s not even the worst of it.

The worst of it is the miraculum itself. It’s psychoreactive. You know how some people say that if you treat your plants very well and talk to them every day, that they’ll grow more quickly and become especially healthy? Healthier than normal? It’s sort of like that with the miraculum. Moreover, he’s used it as a catalyst in several experiments and a bonding agent in several others. It doesn’t seem to be flammable, but it’s apparently intelligent in the way a dog is - in other words, it can be trained. Trained to do what, precisely, we’re unsure of. But it can grow and expand, and it can produce that vapor I mentioned; the vapor itself can also revert into its original state, which is very heavy. It seems to absorb many different liquids, even extremely caustic and quite viscous ones, and it also seems to be able to eat literally anything. It supposedly has a great many uses but we don’t know its full potential. Like I said, we don’t know what it is exactly, but we do know that he returned to this establishment more than once in secret, using subterfuge we didn’t expect from him, to recover his research and steal more than his fair share of materials. Thankfully, he hasn’t been here for a long time.

Until last week. I can only tell you what I saw with my own eyes. After the loss of his research, which we only kept initially to prevent him from conducting any more of his foul experiments and to figure out how to undo anything he might have accomplished - I tell you, the gnome was mad as a hatter - I can tell you nothing more of what he might have invented or how any of it was made. But last week, I looked out my study’s window to see…something…approaching the castle. Now, the moat exists as a disgusting mess of trash, mud, and shit for a reason. Its mudfish are a modified breed created here by a couple of our beast-masters; they are long-fanged mudfish with voracious appetites and powerful jaws that can clamp down indefinitely upon something, and they thrive in filth but can of course only breathe underwater.

It's a measure of protection, and the drawbridge is kept raised unless someone needs to enter or leave, and it’s heavily guarded when that happens. But what I saw approaching the castle can best be described as a mix of wood and iron and leather, and it was huge. It was some kind of makeshift doll or puppet, possibly once a corpse, and it had a rather large diode sticking out of its back that periodically sparked and constantly emitted a loud hum. It dropped into the moat and waded across, getting partially eaten in the process; it kicked holes in the foundation for footholds and climbed up to the drawbridge. At the same time, the mechanical beaker platform had some kind of container atop it; vaporous pressure was put behind it and the container launched as if from a catapult.

The catapulted container shattered against the wall of the castle and released thousands of locusts, which covered the moat and the walls and got into the castle through windows…quite the bit of chaos. In addition to this, the mad gnome himself was hurling what we believe he called termite grenades at the raised drawbridge. They shattered and released many termites, which promptly ate through the drawbridge! Once inside, the larger monstrosity both literally and figuratively tore through our guards, breaking them like twigs and ripping out their limbs.

It was fire that eventually did it in. It scorched the leather, heated up the metal, burned the cloth and wood…and at some point, it must have reached something flammable within or upon the creature, because it erupted in gouts of flame that rushed out in all directions. The thing literally exploded, taking out a tremendous chunk of the corridor. When we finally cleared away the rubble, that creature must have had some of the miraculum inside it, because it had almost completely broken down into vapor that was released with exposure. Many were wounded, several were killed…the creature had been destroyed but at great cost.

If the gnome was trying to make a statement, it was indeed quite well-made. If he was trying to accomplish something else…well, we don’t know what that is. Whatever he was trying to accomplish, all it resulted in for us - that we’re thus far aware of - was death and mayhem.

He left after that, and good riddance. We haven’t seen him since, and we don’t wish to. But he needs to be…dealt with. We cannot have him attacking us like this again. The next time, it might be even more devastating! If he can create something like that, what’s to stop him from sending an army against us, however small it might be, given enough time and resources? And what is it he’s trying to accomplish? Revenge? A hostile take-over of the castle and our local and producible resources? We cannot let this stand, but we are intellectuals: wizards, artificers, alchemists, mechanists, beast-masters, swarm-keepers, scholars, sages…we are not warriors. We have many ways to fight, but we are not battle-hardened and hopefully never will be. That is not our purpose.

Nor should it be. The king believes us useful and pays for many of the things that we can provide for him and his family, and we indirectly guard and supply this region in many ways. But we are not soldiers, not warriors…and so we must rely upon adventurers like yourself to deal with threats of this nature. The king has approved a large bounty to stop this madman; several mercenaries and assassins have already answered the call. None have yet succeeded in finding him, let alone bringing back his head, but we are hopeful that this villain will eventually cross the Styx.

Virgil Winston, Wizard & Scrollery Coordinator
Regarding the Mad Genius Uriel Octavixius

Monstrous Menagerie​

Bird
A technically dead cassowary preserved by formaldehyde and reanimated via internal arcanomagnetic setup. Those claws are sharp! That beak hurts, too! And of course it can fly. It can also talk. Well...it can mimic. "Talk" is a bit of a misnomer. But it can definitely hold a conversation by mimicry.

Bottle
A huge beaker set into a platform that moves via mechanical spider legs; the beaker is partly filled with miraculum, while a dragonshard set into the platform acts as the power core for the body. This acts as a permanent source of miraculum but can also act as a veritable cannon, producing gas that then resolidifies in order for the remaining gas to pressure-launch it as a projectile; the gas can also presssure-launch a projectile resting atop the mouth of the beaker. Crab-like mechanical arms allow Bottle to hold or manipulate objects on command.

Boyfriend Project #9 #13 #31 #36 #37 #39 #42 #47
Ripped apart, bebuilt, scrapped again, reconstructed, broken down, reassembled...this constantly reconfigured doll-puppet-zombie-thing seems to be a never-ending personal project. Uriel will eventually build the perfect boyfriend! He'll absolutely do it! And he'll be PERFECT! And STUNNING! And FABULOUS! Probably.

Eyeball
Exactly what this massive eye was taken from - or perhaps how it was grown, if it was alchemically produced - is something known only to Uriel. It's roughly the size of a large human head, black as oil, and bears an iris that seems to randomly change color. The pupil expands and contracts as a normal eye would. What is NOT normal is the steel-like hardened miraculum frame that binds it and the pair of mechanical, bird-like legs atop which that frame sits.

Fish
Whatever breed of fish this once was or was bred or cross-bred from, it no longer resembles. The "head" looks a bit like a helmet with a faceted yet surprisingly clear window where the visor would be; within lies the massive head of a brown-and-orange fish that constantly looks either terrified or astonished, and the helmet is filled with freshwater kept ice-cold by the dimly glowing runes adorning the helmet. The body connected to the helmet looks like something out of a nightmare: a giant brown millipede with an orange underside, its many legs consisting of human-like arms with three fingers and a thumb each despite their leathery appearance and a color scheme matching the rest of the body; it has no nails, however, as more humanoid hands might. Its back is covered by barding seemingly made from dark-pink coral that appears to be fused to it, and watertight packs are strapped to it for the transport of a variety of materials, treasures, and other possessions.

Garfield
This blue cat is an adorable but cruel fluffball whose fur is electrically charged. There are black stripes across its back and black rings around its tail, and its fur always seems extremely frizzy. Probably best not to touch it. Or piss it off.

 

[Sylent Hyll]

Click to enlarge images.

Virgil
That’s right, plebian, look away. Give thine vision flight lest thou spy a filthy beggar!​

Race: Experiment
Class: Mage
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bi

His name was forgotten, so he adopted that of a dead man; and why not? For he, too, was dead to the world. Unbeknownst to him, Virgil was one of the earliest experiments of Doctor Octavixius - or so the name had been given. He had been inflicted with a terminal pestilence, one that ruined him in his trade. He had been a cook, and a rather brilliant one, and he had been so vibrant and active and full of life. Yet now…now, he was a shattered shell of a man, a far cry from that bustling king of the kitchen. He slept amongst the rats, watched the spiders play at hunting, and longed for a limb that had been cut off just below the hip. His flesh held a permanent pallor, and his bones barely bore it; emaciated, gaunt, his eyes sunken, his hair completely gone, his arms far too long to be natural, his hands larger than they should be, his fingers bearing thick nails as sharp as knives…his head seemed a little larger than it should be, too, but his eyes…black with irises of an acid-green colour and vertical slits for pupils - eyes like a dragon’s and a temperament to match, yet he sought only that which would help him survive despite his pitiable condition.

A rotting length of driftwood and a battered tin cup, along with the rags he wore, were his only possessions (well, almost) now. But that old stick…did it speak to him? Or was he simply abandoning what little remained of his wits? No, it spoke to him in earnest…but not with words.

It spoke to him with magic…dark magic.

Indeed, there was far more to this disgruntled and desperate beggar than did meet the wandering eye…

Inventory​

Deadwood
Despite its rotten appearance, this fallen branch is surprisingly sturdy. It has an uncanny connection to literal darkness, vermin, and death.

Pouch
Used for holding small things; his make-shift rope-belt is strung through it. Has some candles and other small items in it.

Ragged Cloak
Despite its severe fraying, its rips, the obvious mismatching of colors among the oddly shaped patches, and the apparently mishappen lump it covers, this hooded cloak of (primarily plum-coloured)…uh, presumably either wool (it might not be) actually does an excellent job of enshrouding its wearer - assuming its wearer is less than four feet tall, of course. It has a surprising number of pockets roughly sewn into the inside as well, each of a different size and shape (this may or may not have been intentional) but functional nonetheless. It is held together with rope sealed by tree sap and some other kind of gluey substance that was used to coat it long ago, and it’s as stiff and creaky now as it was when it was first strung through (or maybe it so sealed in order to repair it?).

Rags
This may once have been a halfway decently tailored tunic and trousers - or it may have been just scraps thrown together in a haphazard attempt to cover oneself by a completely inept madman who’d never held a needle. It’s impossible to know at this point. Either way, they’re ripped and improperly patched and just generally…well, rags. They cover Virgil where need be. That’s all that can be said.

Rat Cage
Yes, that is a small cage of iron for a songbird. Yes, those are black rats climbing over and nipping at one another - about a dozen, give or take. And yes, it’s hanging from a make-shift belt of rope sealed much in the same manner for durability as that which binds Virgil’s cloak.

Tin Cup
A battered cup wrought of scrap metal; it has a distinct shape but looks as though someone used it for target practice.

Magic​

Rage
This spell silently draws out the inner wrath, bitterness, and hatred of mortals; it amplifies them to woefully destructive heights, turning everyone except the caster to extreme violence. It is uncertain whether these emotions are drawn from the caster or those around him, but the result is undeniable. Thankfully, it lasts only as long as his presence does.

Regenerate
So long as the caster is in physical contact with his Deadwood, any damage done to his body will eventually be undone; he will ultimately be restored to the state he was in when he first found the Deadwood.

Remorse
Those affected by this spell will sink into a deep depression as they are filled with despair. Even after recovering, they are haunted by memories of that depression; it may resurface to a lesser extent in the future when they are stressed.

Retch
This may or may not actually be magic; whether it is or not, it is as foul-smelling as it is caustic when he does it. From somewhere in his throat, or perhaps even deeper inside him, the caster can spew a horrible stream of acidic bile that can eat through just about anything - or anyone.

Retreat
This spell instills dread in those near the caster, making chills dance across their spines and the hairs on their bodies stand on end. Sheer terror eventually drives them to flee from his menacing presence, their minds plagued by seemingly inescapable waking nightmares that continue to haunt their dreams long after they have been driven far from him; anyone affected by this spell will become extremely uneasy around the caster thereafter, whether the spell is cast again or not.

Rise
This spell raises the dead under the caster’s control. Zombies that are burned or destroyed will leave animated skeletons behind, their bones fused together when the spell is cast, unless their bones are also destroyed. The quickest and most complete way to stop them is to shatter the skull; merely beheading them won’t stop the bodies from seeking out the nearest living thing and trying to kill it, and those with jaws still at least relatively intact will attempt to devour the living even if they are not able to be consumed (as in the case of skeletons). After several moments, those slain by undead raised by this spell will also rise as undead under the caster’s control. This spell requires the caster to sacrifice a part of his own body, such as a nail or tooth, which must then be placed inside the corpse to raise it.

Ruin
This spell is a devastating plague, a pestilence that erodes the health of its victims and turns flourishing life into living decay. People and animals in the immediate area surrounding the caster slowly begin to grow ill, eventually retching and stumbling about in a haze of dizziness; those that can sweat do so profusely and can’t keep anything down, not even water, thus dehydrating and starving them; they develop boils that soon pop, becoming open sores that are quickly infected; their muscles grow weak and their bones begin to rot. Eventually, their bodies will become overwhelmed and either succumb to whatever it is that afflicts them - gagging and choking, gasping for air, drowning them in their own vomit and blood - or they will simply begin to shut down, their organs failing one after the other. And once they have perished, the poisons in their bodies will spread. Plants will wither and rot as well, water will grow stagnant and putrid, and vermin will begin to swarm in the area. This spell requires the sacrifice of a rat; its body must be torn open to release the foul magic with which it is imbued. Murdering a diseased rat in this manner will cause the effects to develop and spread much more quickly.

 

[Sylent Hyll]

Tactical Adaptation Module (TAM) Unit KRMX-1337-SPK
aka "Tammi"

Race: Android
Class: Security Specialist?
Gender: Female*
Sexuality: N/A [asexual]​

A nigh-indestructible android designed for infiltration, exfiltration, covert combat, and hacking, "Tammi" has the physical measurements 37-36-37; she stands 5' 2" tall and weighs approximately 150 lbs, which is relatively light-weight (despite being heavier than a humanoid female of her height and build should be) considering her structure and integrated technology. She has been given a synthetic humanoid appearance to conceal what she is, consisting of olive skin; amber-colored eyes; and a shoulder-length wavy bob of ash-blonde hair. She is programmed to default her dominance to her left hand but is technically ambidextrous.

Her visual mode selection includes night-vision, x-ray vision, ultraviolet vision, and thermal mapping; her ocular implants can also identify key information, including vital statistics and other information able to be obtained by her programming, and she can search her extensive large-capacity knowledge bank for any information she may have recorded regarding her identified targets or subjects. Her system will "paint" (i.e. highlight) specific targets as necessary for easier identification when she is busy with multiple tasks or her attention is similarly divided in other ways. She can exert up to roughly two thousand pounds (one ton) of physical force as needed, run at a speed of up to approximately 20 mph, pick up sounds too low or high for a human to hear, and visually analyze microscopic particulates; her synthetic skin is also fitted with tactile sensors that react with very low-frequency electromagnetic spectrum put out by her mechanical body, allowing her to experience physical sensation.

Her integrated technology includes both offensive and defensive systems. A thin, white-lot laser can be emitted by the tip of each of her fingers and thumbs for a variety of purposes - including, but not limited to, welding; soldering; melting; and transmitting energy or heat, even to the point of overloading an outlet or system. Her full open hand can also be used to mimic hand scanners, sending out a pulse that scans them for the correct patterns and activates them to grant her access to whatever the scanners are protecting; this same pulse can be emitted as a defensive strategy as well, distorting the air and violently repelling anything in front of it. Both of her hands possess these functions, and her mechanical body can put out a similar pulse as a forcefield around her to deflect anything that her body can't withstand.

She isn't completely indestructible or invulnerable, of course, but her defenses and sturdy construction do give her a significant physical advantage over most humanoids that she might encounter. In addition, her body can produce and deploy nanobots that consume their own energy and materials to repair her body, replicating its existing structure to rebuild it as necessary, but this takes a lot of power and some time. While she does have a self-destruct mechanism as well, it's locked until certain very specific conditions are met and must be manually unlocked by accessing the partitioned self-destruct system via her operating system. She does not require sustenance or air but she does have to recharge herself at least once every twenty-three hours for a period of at least one hour in order to be fully functional; longer charges may be required if she's used significantly more power than her charge has allotted her. She can charge herself by plugging into any energy-based system but a designated charging station will provide the quickest and most efficient charging operation.

Her measurements are based on Scarlett Johansson's, if you're curious, though she's an inch shorter and weighs roughly 25-30 lbs more.

Equipment
(Click images to enlarge.)

​

Tactical Combat Suit
Skin-tight and can expand; appears as a cloth cross-hatched mesh available in various colors (KRMX's is dark-red). It is highly resistant, able to withstand incredible pressure as well as endure extremes of cold and heat; repel radiation and most liquids; and resist deterioration via acids and other corrosives. It is machine-washable and stretches to fit, though each suit is typically tailored to its intended wearer in order to best fit their body shape and proportions. The downside is that it's not breathable but it does leave the hands, feet, and head open (it closes around the neck).

Combat Boots
Heavy-duty all-weather, all-terrain combat boots with internal armor plating that stop just shy of the knees. KRMX's are dark-red.

Combat Harness
Advanced Tactical Pistol (ATP) Mark XIII (x2)
---30 rds/sec, 30 rds/mag
Delayed Fission Detonation Rounds (DFDR) Magazine (x8)
---Capacity: 30 rds

Utility Thigh Strap (x2)
KO Gas Grenade (x4/strap)
---Doubles as white smoke grenade for concealment.

Automation Access and Database (AADB)
More commonly referred to as a wrist-COM (wrist-computer), this is used primarily for hacking technology; can store up to approximately 700 petabytes (reference) and has an upload/download rate of approximately 1 terabyte/sec. It puts out active low-yield energy distortions when in use and is heavily encrypted, accessible only by way of a very long and complex password programmed into KRMX's knowledge bank, thus preventing it from being tracked or easily accessed either directly or remotely. KRMX's is worn on the right wrist and accessed by her left hand.

*Technically does not apply but her programming has instituted a female persona & appearance for interfacing with organics.

 

[Sylent Hyll]

(Click to enlarge.)

Solveig & Volva
If you can cast it, I can build it. Magic isn’t just staves and wands and potions; sometimes, it’s also machines.​

Race: Norn

The Norns were ancient long before the earthly plane was formed. Exactly what they are is somewhat mysterious even to them. They believe that they began as spirits of a kind, yet they watched the development of the planes and took from their observations a method of forming physical bodies; however, these bodies were limited and many tried to destroy them in order to revert to their previous forms…but they could not. They instead perished, for they had bound their spirits to these new bodies and thus deprived themselves of much of their power within the many universes. When the earthly plane was able to support them, they no longer had to use their magic to sustain themselves and were able to bind their bodies to it just as their spirits were bound to their bodies. While this was only partly intentional, they once more realized that they now could not leave…but they also realized something else.

With much of their magic able to now be devoted to other purposes, they realized that the earthly plane was one of several vital key pieces of the universe. It is the coalescence of many elements, many bodies and flows of magic, and a gateway to many other planes and realms. Pooling their magic into the earthly plane, they began to realize just how powerful they had become - powerful, but in a very focused way. While many of their unique magical talents were now lost, they had an insight into the planes that almost no other being had - even into planes that many gods were not aware of. Over time, they learned to subtly shift these planes in ways that the gods didn’t immediately notice. Historical paths could be altered. Destiny, the path one followed through life, was ever-changing and not easily shifted except by individuals; it was determined by their choices. But fate…fate was unchangeable - except by the Norns. The Norns needed great power to do so, but they could change the planes in unfathomable ways over vast stretches of time with just a handful of manipulations at particular intervals throughout history.

The Norns are potentially immortal, yet they can extinguish themselves by burning too much of their mana for it to be restored. Their children age much as human children do in their early years, while their adolescence radically slows their rate of growth to one year for every decade lived. And as they leave their adolescence for adulthood, this is slowed exponentially to roughly one year for every century lived. It may be that this is slowed further to a millennium or even longer later in life, though only the most ancient Norns know whether this is actually true.

Descendants of the first earthly Norns are typically far less powerful than their ancestors, yet they can draw upon their ancestral “sight” through deep meditation in a process known as astral projection. The popular idea of this is that one becomes a kind of ghost, the spirit leaving the body to wander the plane, but this is not true. Rather, a Norn in deep meditation projects their spirit in such a way that they can observe many planes at once; they do not actually leave their bodies behind. This process can send their mind’s eye into any point in history within the realm they inhabit and those connected to it, but only Norns who have lived for centuries can fully control this. As such, many visions are disjointed and confusing; they must be interpreted by the Norn receiving them. Significantly elder Norns can guide them in such interpretations but the conclusions must ultimately be their own.

It is for these visions that Norns are often referred to as Wanderers.

Class: Artificer
Gender: Female
Age: 140
Apparent Age: Early 20s
Sexuality: Lesbian

Solveig stands just five feet tall and has a pear-shaped figure. She’s pale but not in a sickly manner, despite attributions to the contrary by the blacksmiths she mostly spent her youth around (ignore the mages, they’re idiots and elitists). Resting somewhere between a golden and white-blonde, her hair hangs to her shoulders in a somewhat asymmetrical bob; her hair is naturally straight and it’s usually styled with bowl-cut bangs, but sometimes she has it curled into a wavy bob. Her hair tends to get in her way as often as not but she’ll be damned to the Chasm before she grows it much longer or cuts it much shorter than it is. She likes her hair just the way it is, thank you. Her eyes are somewhat unique; the right eye is a vibrant purple hue that glows brighter the less light there is around her, while the left eye is an icy blue. Her button nose and small, roundish face makes her look much younger than she actually is, which doesn’t help her at all when negotiating with people or trying to convince them that:

ONE - Yes, she actually is a genius and she did in fact build Volva.
TWO - Yes, she is actually an adult despite her stature and youthful visage.

And THREE - Yes, she is deaf but she is absolutely not stupid. She can read your lips, you worthless toad-sucking mongrel-kisser.

As to Volva…Volva is her pride and joy, her companion, her beast of burden, and as complicated and confusing as it is incredible. Since she didn’t have any friends growing up, Solveig built one - with a lot of help from local blacksmiths and an inordinate span of years spent studying several arcane and labor-intensive disciplines, admittedly. It’s taken decades to get to the point that she has, and her mostly academic isolation has been far more fruitful for her than most people realize. Volva looks like a machine because it is a machine built in the style of a large wolf - one that comes up to her bosom and is longer than she is tall. Using mana ritually focused into arcane-infused crystals called mana shards as a power source, it can hold a charge from four for somewhere between six and ten hours, depending on what it’s doing during that time. A metal bin with a complex locking mechanism and an arcane seal is strapped to its back for carrying spare parts, equipment, tools, and other necessities. Set into its back is what she calls her sandbox.

The sandbox is a brilliant adaptation to help her realize that someone’s speaking to her when she’s not looking at them (she can read lips). Being completely deaf has some serious disadvantages, especially since she doesn’t really like to be touched by someone she isn’t extremely familiar and comfortable with. She was born deaf but the sandbox is a huge help to her, even more than her mastery of CSL (common sign language); she took an outdated system of hand signs and expanded upon it, making it quicker and easier to use and understand, but the sandbox literally uses sand to write out what people are saying to her.

The key to its functionality is an expensive crystal plate cut from a clear, flawless, very large diamond. Beneath this lies a sieve plate, and beneath that lies stored sand. Channeling mana directly from inserted mana crystals to manipulate the sand, the individual grains can come together to form various shapes and words or numbers that she can read. Light filtering through the mana-infused crystal plate - called a screen - alters the color of the sand from its usual golden-tan hue into a brilliant green color once it rises through the sieve plate. The sieve plate is measured perfectly to act both as a kind of floor for forming text and what-not and to mark the distance at which the light becomes too scattered to alter the color of the sand. So anything below the sieve plate retains its ordinary color, while anything above it appears bright green so that it’s easier to see. She tried to make it blue but that turned out horribly; green is the only color that really seems to work. It was an insanely expensive experiment.

Just forward of the sandbox is a kind of inverted conical horn set into Volva’s back. This is connected to an internal audio receptor and the funnel narrows sound vibrations in order to best interpret them so that Volva can then process them into channeled mana. This in turn moves the sand into the shapes it needs to be moved into through the sieve plate, and Solveig can read that when she notices that something is happening under the screen. Since she always has Volva by her side, she often glances at the screen unconsciously just to see if someone’s saying something to her. Volva fittingly means “seer” and is a word of the old tongue that her people occasionally still speak. It’s rare to hear it these days, though, as her people are far too scattered to be commonly encountered (especially due to her people’s restless nature and resultant nomadic lifestyle).

Solveig has a habit of carrying a folded stack of parchment sheets or a small scroll and an enchanted quill that writes without the need for ink. Growing up, writing was the quickest way to get her message across. She never learned how to make words appear in the air using one of the elemental disciplines, as that was an advanced technique mastered by much older mages; it required a degree of control she hasn’t attained to this day. She does, however, have a talent for air- and water-based magic; mixing them to create ice is simple enough for her, but her favorite offensive practice is to mix fire and air in order to create lightning. Fire is said to be the easiest of the basic elemental disciplines to learn but the hardest to master; fire can only be coaxed into being, guided - never controlled - or snuffed out, either by smothering it or drowning it. But lightning…lightning is far more unpredictable even than fire. It is not a living, breathing thing as fire is but a complex element (an element comprised of two or more basic elements) that can only be unleashed. It does have a tendency to streak toward the ground or toward anything that can connect to the ground - trees or even people, for example - but she’s found a way around the lack of control…sort of.

Volva.

It requires surprisingly little mana to manipulate fire and air into a bolt of lightning, which seems to expand on its own and lash out against a target with devastating power. Using a cyclical drawing technique in the process of channeling mana directly from Volva’s mana shards, bolts of lightning can be hurled from the conductor stored in its jaw at a phenomenal velocity and with enough power to shatter a boulder and almost instantaneously electrocute most living things born of the earthly plane. In addition, flammable alchemical fusions carefully stored in small tanks in its shoulders can be released through small launchers set into them as streams of roaring fire. A small tank set near its tail houses semi-solid alchemical spheres that can’t be touched by bare skin, as they’re stored at absolute zero; the retractable launcher above the tank can hurl one of these spheres at a distance of about a hundred meters, causing a colossal explosion of flash-freezing ice on impact. Between its ranged weaponry and its own heavy body and powerful jaw, it’s a deadly opponent - and also a strong beast of burden and a valuable friend. Sure, it isn’t technically alive, but try telling Solveig that when people are being…well…people and she’s feeling low.

Arcania
Singular arcanum in this context.

• Basic Water & Air Manipulation
• Basic Fire Evocation & Manipulation
• Basic Mist & Fog Evocation & Manipulation [air+water/water+air]
• Basic Ice Evocation [water+air]
• Basic Lightning Evocation & Manipulation [fire+air]
• Levitation [air]: While not full flight, this method of channeling the primal element of air allows Solveig to move her body through space. The process is slow (about 5mph) and requires great concentration; moreover, this is an extremely draining technique for her and she cannot hold it for more than a minute while moving; she can, however, nearly double the time by not moving at all (i.e. hovering in place rather than levitating toward or away from a focal point) - as long as she maintains her concentration.
• Warmth [fire]: Solveig can channel mana to draw heat into herself without invoking fire as a whole.
• Cooling [air]: Solveig can channel mana to push heat out of her body.
• Breath [air]: Solveig can channel mana to draw air into her lungs when she cannot otherwise breathe; while not nearly as draining as levitation, however, this can be exhausting due to the need to constantly maintain it and it requires a fair amount of concentration.

(Click to enlarge.)​

Believing that the best place for Solveig was among mages and academics due to her being born deaf for an inexplicable reason, Solveig was abandoned in a city called Stormhaven. The city was built upon and around a broad, deep, fast-moving river called the Stormpass, so named for it seemingly cutting through the land like an unstoppable storm; it is a thriving magocracy led by a council of Archmages - old, powerful mages venerated by the general population - and a presiding Grand Archmage, who makes all final decisions and can overturn the council if he or she or they feel that it must be done. This is an exceedingly rare event, however. At the center of the city is the Capital Tower, wherein the council and the Grand Archmage reside; this place also serves as the leading academic center in the region.

The White Marsh is an expansive wetland so named for a particular viscous white sap that flows from some of its trees; this sap is a lethal toxin but wary mages can draw immense alchemical potential out of it. Said mages have divided their arcane elemental disciplines into four basic elements: fire, water, earth, and air. Rather than the plebian belief that these elements oppose one another in some arbitrary fashion, they act as elemental poles that keep a tentative balance in the earthly realm. Mana, a kind of free-flowing energy that can be harnessed by those who know how to sense and tap it, can be channeled in order to manipulate the raw elements themselves in many ways. One of the most common uses of this vast array of techniques is to combine certain basic elements in order to form complex elements - fire and air into lightning, for example, or water and air into ice or mist or fog, or water and fire into steam; fire and earth can even be combined to form molten rock, while earth and water can create mud, and fire and earth can even be combined with air to create smoke. The more elements that are combined in their raw, primal forms - the more complex and unique or even powerful the result can become.

Solveig’s parents were not completely absent during her youth, but she was left mostly alone as she approached her teen years to be taught primarily by the mages of the Capital Tower. Despite this, she developed an innate understanding of both magic and her own ability to project her consciousness over the course of many years. Initially, she was forced to exchange written words in order to communicate beyond simple pointing and miming; she helped to expand an archaic sign language, however, for much easier communication. She also saw magic in a very unique way, allowing her to work with local blacksmiths in order to create many things that the local mages had never seen before. Some of her simpler designs were reminiscent of dwarven mechanisms, such as using steam for locomotion in a windmill or waterwheel; others were far more complex and used magic in ways that the mages believed it was not meant to be used. When she was well into her adulthood, at least chronologically, she was politely asked to study elsewhere since she clearly no longer needed academic guidance.

Basically, she was told to piss off and not return, but in such nice words. Apparently, her experiments had cause a bit of chaos here and there…there had been no serious injuries, of course. Nobody had died…well, that anyone knew of. Might have been some mosquitoes that died…but fuck them, they’re assholes anyway. And that one cat was never quite the same after it wouldn’t stop meddling with one of her machines…welp, it learned its lesson, at least. It never bothered her again. In fact, it screeched and fled in terror at the sight of her after that. She knows it’s wrong but can’t help laughing every time she thinks of it.

She was a lonely child, though, so she ultimately designed a machine that would be her constant companion for many decades thereafter: Volva, a mechanical wolf with some devastating hardware. She’s still developing it all these years later, and it can’t really think beyond simple functions, but at least she’s never alone anymore. She doesn’t like being alone…

Possessions:

• Simple & complex tools for smithing & tinkering.
• Many spare parts and mechanical…things…in various states of construction, deconstruction, repair, disrepair, and general chaos.
• An enchanted peacock feather quill that produces ink as needed; the color of the ink can be changed via concentration.
• Books & papers with notes, diagrams, schematics, random scribbles, drawings of cute animals (often due to boredom), etc.
• Blank (or mostly blank) sheets & scrolls of parchment for writing, typically as a means of quick communication.
• Volva

(Click to enlarge.)​

Threadz
The Queen’s Tavern

 

[Sylent Hyll]

Click for larger image. Model is Stefania Ferrario.

Svetka Shvets
Whether you like it or not, you're in the middle of a war that has been raging for the better part of a thousand years:
a blood feud between vampires and werewolves - and they're not alone in this engagement...​

Race: Therianthrope
Subrace: Lycanthrope
HT [human]: 6'

• 6' 3" with boots!

HT [werewolf]: 6' 6"
WT [human]: 160 lbs
WT [werewolf]: 300 lbs
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Lesbian
Point of Origin: Nordvik, Russia

Nordvik no longer exists. That is probably for the best. Those who know of it consider it prominent only during the twentieth century, when men and machines drew salt there and hunted for oil; they supplied fisheries using the penal colony that was established at Nordvik. It was first mapped in 1739 as part of the Great Northern Expedition. I was born there in 1771, by which time my people had been living there for several decades. I don't know much about the history of the place or my forebears beyond that.

What I do know is that we have never been human. I have been told that we once were slaves to vampires, but I didn't meet any until I was in my thirties - and by then, I had already learned much about them from my father. They expected me to marry and provide children for the tribe but I refused. When I married an outsider to shut them up, they banished me for my shame.

It was almost a year before I let him touch me, and that only because I did not know if I could survive the winter on my own. It was a compromise. It was not pleasant, and it bore him no children. It did, however, make him sick...I knew what I am, have known from birth, but he did not. His body rejected whatever our unfortunate contact tried to give him, and it ultimately made him sterile - and then killed him. That's when they found me. I was too strong to kill or capture but too weak to kill them.

When they hit my tribe, they hit them hard. Only after did my tribe find me. They did not kill me or welcome me back; they begrudgingly drew me back into the fold only because they were desperate for numbers. What I had learned of the vampires, I was now trained to use in battle.

We stuck to the wilderness as human settlers built Nordvik up. It eventually housed the penal colony it was known for but they had no idea the danger they were in or what was protecting them from it. Then the war broke out halfway through the twentieth century, and the Americans came as allies. We stole some of their weapons - and many of ours - modified them, perfected our techniques based on their tactics...the vampires had their own learning curve, of course, but they had to be clever. We did not.

We're simply more powerful, physically speaking. They are faster, so numbers are imperative in a fight. One vampire can take on a small pack, so long as they're of a decent age and have some skill to them. But we were trained to hunt them. They had their death dealers, and we had our ubiytsa - our killers, our murderers, our slayers. We know which ones the bloodsucking fiends called us.

I am one of the last of the ubiytsa. Now most lycans, as they call us, can handle themselves against all but the eldest and most powerful vampires. But because we were among the first to start hunting them as they hunted us, at least in the modern eras of the Motherland, we ubiytsa are still the best at what we do...and what we do isn't very nice.

Silver might be poison to us, but the vampires have many weaknesses. The sun burns them - that is the best way to fight. My understanding is that is why they enslaved us to begin with - to use us as guard dogs. Filthy suchka*...then there's fire. We don't like getting burned any more than anyone else; we got a lot of fur when we change, and burns heal as slow as they do for humans, but at least ours do heal. But bloodsuckers? Fire is the ultimate weapon if you can't use the sun against them. They go up quick and the burns don't heal! Not fully. They always have scars, if they survive...and unfortunately, some of the suka** always survive. They're like fucking cockroaches.

Their hearts and their heads - those are the strongest and weakest points. Cut off their heads, they die like any other fucking thing. Stab them in the heart, though, and it just paralyzes them; the younger, weaker ones might be totally paralyzed but some of the older, more powerful ones can still move a little - just with great difficulty. But destroy the heart entirely, or remove it, and they can't recover from that. Got to remove the heart and destroy it, or just destroy it on the spot, or they'll recover. Also, the blood they drink has to be pure - can't have been coagulated, can't be mixed with anything, or it goes down hard. It's like food poisoning for them. And our blood is like acid when they drink it. So we take some of our blood, mix it with a little vodka, and we got one hell of a weapon when we can't use a gun or a deadlier weapon. I like molotovs, but I don't waste vodka on that shit - unless it's really cheap, shitty vodka that isn't from Russia. We have the best vodka in the world, you know.

I also like guns. Guns and molotovs. My bullets are custom. I lace them with the vodka-blood mix so if they get shot, they feel that shit like the suchka they are even if it doesn't kill them. But of course, the best weapon I got? Shifting. I get big and furry and savage, a truly primal monster of unbridled strength and ferocity. My claws can rend steel, and my jaws can crush their skulls like a hammer crushing a watermelon! (You ever tried that? Did that for fun to take out some frustrations a few times over the years...great way to spend some time when you're drunk. Waste of food, though...don't tell anyone.)

They heal like we do: fast. They live like we do: forever. And they kill like we do: without mercy. They use supernatural powers like making bats swarm or turning into mist. Us? We got us. That's it. Our bodies are built to destroy anything that gets in our way. We're much stronger, they're much faster, but the war rages on night by night and day by day. Hound us? Fuck them. We're the hounds. We're the hounds of hell, and we give them the damnation they didn't get when they should have fucking died in the first fucking place.

We're ubiytsa.

We're not alone, though. Ever hear of the baba yaga? Russian boogeyman, outsiders call it. Rumor has it she was actually a babka - a wise woman - but a really powerful and immortal one. There are plenty of babki in old Slavic stories, mostly healers and spirit guides. Whatever she was, if she ever even existed, what we got helping us are ved'ma; it means something like "to know".

Christians and Catholics, they call them witches. The whole idea is ridiculous, the way they think of it. But a vedmak or vedma - the modern male and female terms - have been largely forgotten these days. They do rituals, yeah, but it's mostly folk medicine and prayer. However, some of their medicines are secret and powerful, and the oldest ones know things even the vampires don't know.

One thing they know is how to turn into any animal or object. I've seen it. It's...stranger than how we change. I can't describe it. But they used that knowledge long ago to teach us how to control what we are, weaponize it, turn it against our masters. That's what I've been taught. It's how we escaped them, supposedly, and learned to fight back in the beginning. Supposedly, some of them can see the dead and even talk to them; some can see the future. Some can visit our dreams and tell us things. They don't help us as much as they used to, but they still help us with medicines and advice and in other ways.

Do not underestimate a vedmak or vedma, and do not dismiss them.

Svetka's Tribe
Perhaps more accurately known as a pack at this point, Svetka's tribe originally numbered over a hundred and mostly hunted in the coldest northern regions of Russia. They are particularly known for being of a consistently rare white breed, with the darkest boasting shades of silvery-gray fur. Even when human, they bear a remarkable resistance to extremely cold temperatures. They tend to be incredibly strong even if they don't look it, have an incredible sense of smell as well as keen hearing and perfect night vision, and they heal rapidly; they heal even more quickly if they've recently eaten raw meat in abundance (from which they do not take ill), either in human or lycanthropic form. Their eyes tend to take on shades of silver or gray when they change, rather than the yellow that people typically think of. They are known as the belyy volk, or white wolf, tribe or pack and are significantly smaller in number than they once were; despite their decreased population, however, they are also considered a greater challenge than many other werewolves due to having thicker and tougher skin, a trait most likely owing to their much colder and harsher environment. They are immune to most diseases and many poisons, and their bodies purge much of what might infect them as part of their healing process.

Inventory
While this isn't a complete taking of her general possessions, it calls out several important items. With regard to weaponry (and ammo especially), most customizations are done by Svetka or someone close to her even if such modifications might exist on the open or black markets already; this gives Svetka a sense of personal satisfaction. She has a habit of kissing every bullet she loads into a magazine as a kind of good luck charm and every grenade she throws for the same reason.​

• Signed Original Copy of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
• Modern Hardcover Reprint of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
• Cigars & Flip Lighters

Yes, she smokes. Her body purges any damage that might occur from it, so why not? She keeps some good cigars, too. She likes flip lighters because they're reliable; the ones that are open are too cheap and can be unpredictable, but flip lighters have never failed her - for smoking or for lighting molotovs. And yes, she drinks vodka, but honestly...what hard Russian doesn't? Some stereotypes are at least mostly true, after all.

Kalashnikov AK-74
Not to be confused with the earlier AK-47 model, this rifle is particularly notable for a compensator to increase stability and a somewhat straighter magazine. The weapon remains unmodified, as modifications have not been necessary, except for a custom compensating suppressor. More info on the gun can be found here. The rounds it uses are standard 5.45×39mm modified as hollow points with a teflon coating and loaded with a mix of vodka and lycanthropic blood, allowing them to pierce most body armor and poison vampires.

KP-9 Bronza [modified] x2
Semi-automatic pistol based on the design of the PP-19-01 Vityaz Parabellum submachine gun and given the iconic look of the AK-74 rifle; however, this has been modified for full automatic fire. At a glance, it looks little different from the original weapon; only on close inspection is the truth revealed. It was made in the US by Kalashnikov as a legal semi but obtained and modified for personal use by Svetka. It bears a standard 30-round magazine and can practically fire roughly a hundred rounds per minute, assuming quick reloads. It is relatively accurate at short-to-mid-ranges but radically loses accuracy as range increases. The safety has been removed from each of these and the barrel is three inches longer than the standard; further, the compensator has been replaced with a suppressor. This has improved its range a bit but the weapon maintains its original stability. The gun uses 9x19mm Parabellum rounds modified as hollow points coated in teflon and loaded with a mix of vodka and lycanthropic blood, allowing them to pierce most body armor and poison vampires.

Mosin-Nagant Rifles [several, mostly modified] [info]
These are mostly kept as collectibles and used for testing various modification schemes at this point; they don't see much use anymore for modern ubiytsa missions or general combat. They're still fun to fire sometimes for recreation, though.

Makarov Pistols [info]
Several of these weapons are kept in reserve and unmodified, as they're light-weight pistols that are easy to carry as a back-up weapon. As with other weapons, Svetka has modified their standard 9x18mm Makarov rounds as teflon-coated hollow points loaded with a mix of vodka and lycanthropic blood, allowing them to piere most body armor and poison vampires. Suppressors are sometimes added in the field but they aren't typically added at the start as they're not intended to be used as a primary weapon.

Molotov Cocktails [many]
Seriously, you can never have too many of these. While she might use cheap vodka for her bullets, however, Svetka considers using any vodka (except maybe something made outside the Motherland) to make molotovs a waste of vodka. Her supply of ready-made molotovs can range anywhere from a dozen to several dozen.

*[Russian] "little bitch"
**[Russian] "bitch"

 

[Sylent Hyll]

Eldrith Elspeth
Friends call me Ellie. Girlfriends call me whatever they like.
You're not my friend. You're not my girlfriend.
You don't get to call me anything.​

HT [human]: 5' 3"
WT [human]: 90 lbs
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Lesbian
Point of Origin: Pending

According to my doctor, I'm underweight; I should be about twenty to thirty pounds heavier. I've always been skinny, though - not much muscle mass and almost no fat on my body. I used to get sick easily, but a prescribed steroid cocktail bolstered my immune system enough that I could get the usual innoculations; most of it was flushed out of my system, but my immune system did get stronger. Small miracles, I suppose. I shouldn't be alive, really. A strong wind could knock me over and when I was a kid, someone sneezing in the same building as me probably could have put me into bed. Just imagine what an epidemic would have done.

But that's where technology comes in handy. While it unfortunately doesn't float under its own power, my pack's internal electromagnetic liminal system allows me to utilize the same technology that miniaturizes pokeballs to store an inordinate quantity of supplies while rebounding gravitational and inertial force in such a manner that it's almost weightless regardless of its construction or contents. I may not be physically adept, but I can build just about anything and I'm good at innovating new designs utilizing existing technology. I'm also good at hacking.

My family owns the Elspeth Disposal Service, or EDS. It's...it's a landfill. Basically a dump. Only it's massive. The company is involved in several clean-up and beautifcation projects and publicly ecofriendly, but no one is allowed inside the landfill. High-voltage fences line the razorwire-topped stone walls that surround the place, and biometrics are required for admission via the security or maintenance entrances. As an only child and the mobile programmer for the on-site systems, I have access as needed. There is a clean zone that I live in, but I spent a lot of my youth - far more than my parents would have liked - exploring the dump itself.

It's filled with koffings and weezings, muks and grimers, trubbishes and garbadors...I love it. My parents just see it as a corporate legacy; for me, it's a playground and a valuable resource for parts and materials. Of course, I'm not stupid - mask and gloves, always, when exploring the place. But it's yielded more than just viable scrap. It's yielded my pokemon as well.

If you must know, my favorite color is purple; I like pizza and Mountain Dew; I do not like to be touched; and...I'm not good with people. Oh, I'm good at robbing them. My pokemon help with that. I don't bother stealing pokemon, though; too bothersome trying to control, repurpose, or sell them. But supplies and equipment? Absolutely. If I like you and we become friends, you still can't touch me. But if I like you and we become more than friends...maybe I'll let you hold my hand. I might even be not wearing gloves at the time, if you're really nice. My gloves are nasty, anyway; they're work gloves and I sort through garbage and junk with them. Sometimes I pat my pokemon with them. But you? Yeah, you can't touch me. No touching. Ever. I don't like it. Unless I really trust you. Which I don't.

Pokemon
Click to enlarge pokeballs.

"Queen"
[Poison]
Muk [f]

Abilities:
Stench, Sticky Hold

Frequent Moves:
Acid Armor, Belch [after eating berry], Gunk Shot, Haze, Poison Fang, Pound

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Princess"
[Poison]
Weezing [f]

Abilities:
Levitate, Neutralizing Gas

Frequent Moves:
Belch [after eating berry], Explosion [rarely], Haze, Poison Gas, Smog, Smokescreen

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"King"
[Steel/Ground]
Steelix [m]

Abilities:
Rock Head, Sturdy

Frequent Moves:
Crunch, Dig, Iron Tail, Screech, Slam, Smackdown

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

[Sylent Hyll]

Lenore Le'Mora
Lover of the morbid, the macabre, and the grotesque.​

HT [human]: 5'
WT [human]: 100 lbs
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Queer
Point of Origin: Pending

Lenore is one of those strange individuals drawn to that which repulses most people. She also happens to be a published author of numerous short stories (and a few poems) in an anthology entitled Welcome to My Web as well as a full-length novel (What Tangled Webs She Weaves) based on the Jorogumo myth from Japan*. Her works are almost exclusively romantic in nature and quite adult in content more often than not. Those few who know about her work either think her work is disgusting and weird (not in the good way) or are just as "disturbed" as she is.

One story, for example, involves a great serpentine creature known as a lindworm that dwells in deep, moist soil; it manipulates the soil to trap its prey but in the story, it traps a woman and...uh...stimulates her. And it eventually eats her. Yeah, it's a vore story. There are, of course, the expected inhabitants of the soil involved as well - worms, spiders, snails, and other such things getting into places they probably shouldn't - all painted in an erotic light. There's some debate among her small and very specific fanbase as to whether the woman in the story is supposed to be the author, the readers, or some ill-fated relationship the author had; Lenore likes to tease by smiling quietly and not confirming any theory or rumor regarding her work. It's better, she says, if her readers come to their own conclusions.

Lenore's mother, Laura Le'Mora, is creeped out by Lenore's work but otherwise very supportive; she's a nurse* and, to Lenore's way of thinking, works way too hard for too little respect just to help and support other people. Her father isn't in the picture and she doesn't talk about him, which prompts the expected gossip regarding her potential "trauma" - it doesn't exist. She has no reason to talk about someone she literally doesn't know.

Lenore was born with alopecia totalis and porphyria, which comes with a bonus kit of problems. She has sensitive skin, prompting her to take cold showers that last longer than they would if they were hot; wear softer clothing; and avoid a lot of physical contact. She wears black wigs over beanies, the knit caps providing comfort and support for the wigs. Pale as she is, her amber eyes tend to stand out above her button nose. She's quite skinny with c-cups and a slight pear-shaped frame.

She doesn't talk about herself much but she loves horror movies - the more disgusting the better. She's a fan of the "Alien" series but is always disappointed when the monster dies (a running theme with her). She actually rewrote Frankenstein as a personal project but never published it, weaving it as a romantic tale in which the monster finds love and terrorizes the townsfolk who shunned him.

Some interesting details:

• Lenore is left-handed.
• Her favorite colors are purple, green, black, and orange; she rarely wears orange, though.
• She has an on-again, off-again girlfriend named Penelope who hates being called Penny.
• She might have fun with you if you're into the same stuff as her, but that doesn't mean she wants a relationship; that's a slow burn kind of thing that requires a lot more than just kinky grotesque passion and a high libido. And yes, she has a bondage fetish, but her sensitive skin means she's not a masochist and some caution is needed - silk rope rather than handcuffs, for example, and secure without being tight. That's something that requires a hell of a lot of trust, though. She has to know you really well and be as deep into you as her MC was in the soil in Lindworm. Penelope's thus far the only one who's gotten that particularly intimate with her.

Eh...may or may not use the following:

See more

She also has a pet raven - not a crow or a blackbird, you ignorant plebians - named Poe who may be more than he seems and a cat named Salem who...also may be more than he seems. Yeah, she likes her cliches; got a problem? They're cliches because they work, dunderhead.

For a more fantasy-friendly feel:

See more

Lenore is a witch and a necromancer. She performs divination rituals but can also perform profane rituals that set protective or offensive curses, either upon a given place or a person or even a specific object. She is often accompanied by something dead that she has reanimated. Through ritual or by way of an object enchanted by one, she can observe the surroundings of her undead minion via their senses; she can also control them directly while doing this. One of her most obscene rituals allows her to trap a soul in an object, and another allows her to possess another being's body; the problem is that her own body must then be protected both from physical and ethereal threats, and she cannot be separated from her body for more than a few hours.

Lenore is also an herbalist with a vast knowledge of plants, animals, and natural remedies - and poisons, of course.

*Reference dependent upon modern or futuristic setting.

 

[Sylent Hyll]

Louis
Run, little rabbit...run.​

HT [half-elf]: 6'
WT [half-elf]: 150 lbs
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Gay
Point of Origin: Pending

Despite being skinny enough to be considered unhealthy by most, his body actually boasts a fair sum of lean muscle; his arms aren't huge but they are noticeably toned. While technically fair-skinned, he's tanned just dark enough to hint at years spent out-of-doors rather than sitting on his laurels in some comfortable tavern somewhere. His dark-red hair is pulled back into a ponytail that hangs to the small of his back, and his eyes are a bright green that almost seems unnatural. His face is clean-shaven but for a neatly trimmed long goatee that hangs to his sternum, the beard braided and tied with a dark-green ribbon. His long, skinny nose appears to have been broken and set a long time ago (possibly more than once). And behind his lips are a full set of flawless teeth - including canines that are a little longer and sharper than they probably should be.

Louis is a hunter. He likes his meat raw and washes it down with fresh blood; he's not particular about what - or who - he hunts. His weapon of choice is an ironwood longbow with a mithril string. The bow itself is covered partly in rough hides and fur so as to strengthen his grip and lessen the impact of shooting in cold weather; buckskin gloves also help with this.

His arrows are little more than razor-sharp pointed sticks fitted with various bird feathers; the arrows go in clean and are easily removed. Most of his arrows are constructed from bone or horn, making them relatively heavy but giving them a little more impact. Considering the power of a longbow, this isn't concerning when he shoots. He does so with a slight cant and is a left-handed archer, holding the bow in his right hand. His quiver has been made from a thick black hide lined with white wool and holds about thirty arrows; it hangs at his right hip, allowing him to quickly nock and draw when needed.

His buckskin breeches are paired with a vest matching his quiver in material. Large, square pockets on the outside are complemented by multiple smaller pockets on the inside, though the vest is usually closed by three large buttons carved from the hooves of a kill. A braided leather cord around his neck bears numerous teeth and claws. His feet are almost always bare, the greatest exceptions being during cold or extremely wet weather.

Louis is an exceptional archer but loathes trophy hunting and taxidermy; this is not to say he does not take anything from his kills that isn't practical, but he sees mounting a head or part of a head on a wall as disrespectful at best. Although rare, he occasionally takes trophies from his kills; but these aren't large trophies that he shows off to other people for the sake of a hunter's pride. His most notable trophy is the cleanly severed tip of an elk's antler, a curved "elk-horn" about a foot in length. Etched into it are a multitude of images including a mountain range, the heads of several birds, numerous shapes of trees, the tracks of many different animals, and a row featuring every phase of the moon. The etchings are surprisingly detailed, providing him an accurate point of reference.

He greatly prefers the wilderness to civilization.

 

[Sylent Hyll]

Unión Provincial de México
Alternate history & plotnezz!​

Alternate History

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Following the conquest of Mexico City by US naval forces in 1848, Mexican military leaders sent discreet word to their British allies. A plan was formed to use the American indecision over what to do with their potential annexation target as a distraction for British reinforcements. This was ultimately successful, and the US was driven out of Mexico. A series of engagements with British reinforcement helped both to organize the quarreling Mexican forces and to push back the US until Texas, New Mexico, southern Nevada, and a significant portion of California was overtaken by a mixture of Mexican and British units.

That was 176 years ago. Since that time, several important things have happened. By the 20th century, the combined might of Britain's forces restricted US expansion and prevented them from properly retaliating. The US ultimately decided to fortify and organize those territories it already possessed, while Britain helped to organize Mexico to the point that they rapidly expanded and fortified their own territories and ended most disputes within their original borders. By the time of the first world war, Mexico was in total control of (what in the original timeline would have become) Texas; New Mexico; Arizona; California; Nevada; and Utah.

Canada's borders had been heavily reinforced with certain states (Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming) serving as miltary-controlled extensions of Canadian territory. The Canadian border was completely closed to the US without obtaining permission from the Colorado Union, a kind of neutral no-man's land that was mostly a meeting place for British and Mexican forces to plan military and governmental operations in their respective territories south of Canada. Tensions grew between Mexican & British forces during WWI, a fact the US tried (and failed) to take advantage of.

Due to Britain having aided Mexico in organizing and seizing power within what would otherwise now be the United States, Canada realized that it couldn't successfully attack Mexican territories directly; it could, however, try to weaken the US enough to possibly expand their own territory. Mexico, of course, had the same idea. These tensions extended beyond WWI, resulting in the Post-World War; this was mostly a cold war but many clandestine operations took place against the US during this time by both British & Mexican forces. By the time of Einstein's defection to the US in WWII, the US was ripe for surprise attacks from Japan and possibly the Axis Powers in Europe. However, due to the complexities of WWII and Hitler's focus on atomic research, Japan was the only nation to attack the US directly.

It was during the post-WWII economic boom in the US that Canada finally struck - and struck hard. They seized control of NYC and several other major cities throughout the US, after which they began cutting swaths through astonished civilian forces along the US borders. Mexico attempted to intervene only to commence the Mexican-British War, a conflict lasting more than twenty years with the US being the primary battleground. While the US did involve itself in the Vietnam Conflict, later called the Vietnam War and ultimately leading to the Fall of Saigon, its failures during that war only weakened it further. The Mexican-British War was ended with the successful acquisition by Mexican forces of several US-based atomic weapons manufacturing plants. The first and last atomic bombing run by Mexico decimated Colorado and served as a valid threat against Britain.

Knowing full well that Mexico would not hesitate to annihilate their own forces along with British troops, they began a mass eviction of controlled territories with the exception of the state of New York. It is there that they marshalled their forces, contentrating all of their US-occupying military might into a dwindling British US power. By the 21st century, Mexico had driven Britain entirely out of their territories south of Canada and had seized control of the rest of the US.

What remained of the US, which had stretched itself thin defending itself and its interests overseas up until the Mexican-British War, was concentrated in New York. New York City became a British military city-state, while the rest of New York was entirely civilian. Though technically governed by NYC, New York sees little interference from the city-state and cities mostly directly govern themselves; they receive funding from NYC for various purposes and occasionally interact with NYC due to the necessities of sovereign government but are mostly autonomous. Smaller towns and settlements in New York are goverened and policed by larger cities, and the NYC British Consulate acts as an internal point of international access for the Provincial Union of Mexico.

Colorado remains an irradiated hellscape that has been permanently quarantined by PUM authorities, and it is used for dangerous weapons testing to this day. Texas is considered the Capital Territory of the PUM. The southern borders of California, Arizona, New Mexico, and the southwestern border of Texas serve as the border between Mexico and the PUM. Canada's southern border is heavily protected by British forces, preventing all Mexican access, and several stretches of it are fortified either with a wall or with natural water features (e.g. the Great Lakes); Canada's civilian government is currently embroiled in several internal political matters, including the controversial debate whether to completely wall off the PUM despite already preventing easy access to the country. Hawaii is considered an independent state entirely separate from Mexico, the PUM, or Britain.

As part of an alliance agreement with Puerto Rico, Mexico has given Puerto Rico control over Guam; the Northern Mariana Islands; Samoa; and the Virgin Islands. However, Puerto Rico only exercises control over passage through, onto, or off of these islands; this is done by a strong naval authority reinforced as necessary by PUM naval and air force units. Puerto Rico's civilian government limits itself to its own island, though Guam is utilized as a military station and training ground to which PUM forces have "guest access" should they require or desire it. PUM forces have only utilized this a handful of times.

All other islands between the Gulf of Mexico, the Caribbean Sea, and the Atlantic Ocean are considered independent states. While Cuba has had issues with Mexico and the PUM in the past, they mostly leave them and the South American countries alone and vice versa.

Background Plot

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At some point during the mid- to late second millennium, prolonged exposure of unknown origin and cause to the numerous leylines of ambient magic prompted a slow forced evolution of humanity. Most mutations were subtle enough to go unnoticed, with people developing enhanced physical or mental abilities, but there were many "deformities" that usually wound up either in a circus or a laboratory or some other inhumane hellhole. The Provinicial Union of Mexico was neither the first nor the last nation to conduct extensive and often cruel testing on such people. This resulted in a threefold classification of people with powers and abilities far beyond those of baseline humanity.

Mutants are those whose physical abilities far surpass those of humans. While human-animal hybrids have been lumped in wih those classed as mutants, they mostly are subject to an unnoficial subclass designated "humanimals". It's a derogatory and humilitating term that completely dehumanizes them. Humanimals have almost no rights in most places and no rights at all in others. Mexican mutants that can pass for human are considered probationary citizens pending full citizenship obtained by serving for at least two years in one of the brances of either the Mexican or PUM military; PUM military service grants full citizenship only in the PUM, while Mexican military service grants full citizenship and a legal passport valid only in the PUM. Mexican humanimals are not considered human or humanoid and therefore are not granted the priveleges and rights with which mutants and humans are afforded.

Mutates are superhuman or super-powered subjects of Mexican military experimentation. They are considered military citizens only and are never released into the civilian population as civilians; this means that they have restrictive rights and priveleges granted by the Mexican military, though this technically constitutes full citizenship in the PUM due to the necessity of their permanent enforced military service. Chilren of the mutates, however, are considered probationary citizens in Mexico and the PUM until they have obtained full citizenship under the same rules as mutants. Humanimal mutate offspring are either disposed of by the Mexican military (usually via weapons testing) or released among the small, scattered concentrations of humanimal mutants throughout the PUM; they do not receive the latter treatment in Mexico - only those in the PUM may be offered that mercy.

Metahumans are mutants who can pass for human but possess abilities no human possesses. These abilities are not merely physical. They may be mental abilities such as ESP, telepathy or some form of telekinesis; they may be energy-based; or they may be some other set of abilities that are not primarily physically based. Kinetics are a highly prized subclass of metahumans that tend to garner great respect in the Mexican military, and Espers - those with other mental or "psychic" abilities - often attain great power in the same respect. They follow the same rules for citizenship as mutans and human-passing mutates but are dangerous enough to have earned the attention of a special task force.

That task force is known as the Mexican Metahuman Authority. While the MMA does take action against mutants and rogue mutates as well, their primary concern is the metahuman population due to the extreme threat they can sometimes pose. They are specially equipped and trained, their practices and equipment - as well as their facilities - are constantly monitored and upgraded to deal with ever-changing threats, and they have top priority for funding from the Mexican government. PUM governmental and military bodies, as well as Mexican military forces, defer to them under the authority of the Mexican government. The MMA often handles nearby international threats within their purview as well, though always at the expense of the countries or territories requesting their assistance (Puerto Rico specifically, in the case of it and the islands it technically controls).

While it is a military force under the jurisdiction and control of the Mexican government, the MMA is not considered part of the other Mexican or PUM military forces. They defer to the MMA only due to the extreme threat posed by metahumans and rogue mutates.

Current Setting:
The year is 2099. The world is on the verge of entering into the 22nd century. It is a digital era in which major cities have integrated biomods into the major subcultures that inhabit them, and analog technology has been almost completely replaced by digital technology. Virtual Reality is king in the gaming world and dominates the interpersonal spectrum in first-world countries; while the internet still exists, it is mostly seen as the platform from which VR applications are launched. All the information and content is still there, but it's mostly uploaded or trasmitted as a means by which to digitally store that which will be accessed via VR for convenience. There are poorer populations and individuals who still use older, non-VR technology to access the internet but the hope is that this will eventually be phased out. Biomods, mentioned above, aren't for everyone but they're as common as wearing clothes or jewelry; in fact, higher-end clothing and most jewelry can and often does have digital and/or VR technology integrated into it. Advertising panels on wearable items are a popular means of earning passive income.

Additional historical and/or setting information may be found in the character details listed below.

My Character(s):
Oriana Paloma Serrano Sepulveda

• Info pending.

Consuela de la Riviera de la Rosa y Delgado

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Actress Credit: Michelle Rodriguez

Pictured Below: Rosa Delgado while serving in the MPA (prior to her husband's death).



Click the above images to see their full-size versions.

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• Mutant mercenaria with membership in El Grupo de Autoridades Civiles (The Civilian Authority Group, aka The C.A.G. or The CAG). While an indepdendent organization with military training and equipment at their disposal, they are a cross between what amounts to private security or private investigators and mercenaries occasionally sponsored and funded by the Mexican Military Command (MMC).
• Currently 40 years of age; her birthday is Octubre 30. She's a scorpio (a water sign); her birthstones are opal and tourmaline; and her birth flowers are marigolds and cosmos (whatever the hell those latter ones are) - if you believe in all that sort of crap, anyway. She's typically more logical than whimsical. (Besides, her favorite flowers are hydrangeas and she's especially partial to blue marble and jade.)
• Her favorite color is blue; green is a secondary favorite. She likes darker colors.
• She's bisexual and monogamous; she prefers a slow burn (she might kiss on the second or third date, but she's gotta trust you before she'll take you - or let you take her - to bed). She refuses to date Brits or anyone who isn't a full-fledged citizen of either the PUM or both Mexico and the PUM. She does really like tattoos, though...
• Commonly called Rosa; situationally uses Connie Rivers as an alias.
• Rosa's bones are incredibly dense and hard, and her skin is nigh impenetrable; her muscles add a strong, tight layer beneath her skin that fortifies her and develop more quickly than human muscles do. She can bench approximately a thousand pounds and deadlift nearly two thousand; needless to say, she hits like a truck. However, this is mostly internal and her skin - although showing some muscle tone - does not fully reflect her musculature. In addition, she has rapidly regenerating stamina and can withstand extreme conditions that would kill most people and animals. It is theorized that she could withstand pressure close to that exhibited by the depths of the Mariana Trench, though she has never been tested to that extent.
• Rosa's immune system and other internal physiology mostly functions as a human's would. However, she has an extremely high metabolism and her body completely breaks down ingested materials rather than only breaking them down into waste product; what little material is not repurposed by her body via internal molecular conversion is released through her perspiration and tears.
• Despite her nigh invulnerability, Rosa is vulnerable to several things that would also affect humans. She can drown or suffocate and can be affected by substances entering her body that do not target her bones, muscles, or skin. Gases, liquids, or other substances that can be ingested, inhaled, or absorbed can affect her just as they would anyone else for the most part and are thus the best means by which to attack her.
• Rosa's sole exertnal point of weakness is her eyes, though it's theorized that a potential dormant healing factor may solve this issue if biochemically activated. She wears armored black-lens goggles when working that provide her with various visual modes and a constant stream of information regarding the world around her, everything from biometric data to information accessed via secured private networks maintained and controlled by The CAG. The encryption and other protective layers are considered among the top digital security technology systems in the world. The goggles belong to The CAG but are issued to agents and can be remotely detonated should an assigned agent's biometric data not be registered (a feature activated on contact once the goggles are assigned via The CAG's digital equipment network); this is only done if the agent is believed to have been captured or otherwise be in imminent danger (and separated from the goggles in either instance, of course).
• Rosa's assigned pistol is a .50 semi-automatic custom package designated the CAG Special. It boasts no chamber for an additional round but incorporates instead a biometric-tracking targeting laser that allows a magazine of twelve impact-detonated explosive smart rounds to "chase" those she shoots at within a limited range of flexibility; the rounds are coloquially referred to as "chasers". The pistol's grip, safey, and trigger register an assigned agent's biometrics and cannot be fired by anyone except the assigned agent; the pistol must be dismantled and reassembled using unprogrammed components in order to reset the biometric registration due to this being an internal feature. The pistol has an ideal range of approximately 1000 yrds (approx. 3000'), and the bullets used are 300 gr (grain) .50 slugs that incorporate tracking technology linked to the pistol's laser sight. The laser itself produces a close-range light on the business end but a light on the user's end turns on when biometrics have been scanned (a process that takes approximately three seconds); the light will momentarily turn off when a new target is established and will turn on again when the new target has been scanned. The close range of the targeting light prevents most targets from realizing that they are being sighted unless they are very close to the shooter. The pistol can equip a suppressor that fits smoothly onto the end of the barrel, appearing to be a part of it, but this limits the range of the weapon by 300-400 yds and is thus an occasional option rather than standard practice by The CAG's agents.
• Like all CAG agents, Rosa carries the gun in a shoulder harness with a standard complement of three additional magazines. The pistol's design is modeled after the old .50 AE Desert Eagle and comes in black or silver for CAG models; personal models also come in bronze but profesional gunsmiths can alter the "skin" of the weapon for a fee to suit the user's preference. Doing so invalidates the warranty of the weapon and CAG will not modify their pistols in any way once they are marketed. Rosa's CAG-assigned pistol is black. Her weapon and goggles are stored in a private locker when she's off-duty.
• Rosa also has a personal CAG Special sold by CAG for civilian use. Like her on-duty weapon, she carries it in a shoulder harness with a complement of three additional mags. Her personal CAG-S, like all civilian CAG-S models, has a standard laser sight and no tracking system integrated into the rounds; the pistol was sold to her in its bronze palette but she had it customized to a dark-blue color with the name Rosa Delgado printed onto it on both sides of the barrel in bronze cursive script. The weapon and an ample personal supply of ammunition are kept in her private locker alongside her duty weapon.
• Rosa joined the Mexican Army when she was eighteen and served honorably for two years; she then joined the Mexican Provisional Army (the equivalent of the US Army Reserves) and served for ten years. It was after this that she found work in The CAG, a career that has served her well for the last decade.
• Delgado is Rosa's married name. She met her then-future husband, Emilio Fernando Hernandez Delgado, while serving alongside him in the Mexican Army. She left the Mexican Army to marry him, and they both joined the MPA to continue working together. He died while serving when she was twenty-nine, and she left the MPA a year later. He is buried in the Cementerio Nacional Unión Provisional de México (Provincial Union of Mexico, or PUM, National Cemetery) in her hometown of El Paso, TX; she currently lives in that city and primarily works therein for CAG, although she is sometimes sent elsewhere temporarily for a job. She keeps both her and her husband's wedding ring, along with her engagement ring, in the private locker in which her weapons and ammo are stored.
• Can understand English but refuses to speak it unless absolutely necessary (typically for an undercover job outside Mexico or the PUM).
• Further informaiton pending.

 

[Sylent Hyll]

On true names:

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True names are powerful tools and weapons. They are intentionally abstract, their inherent magic drawing upon intent and force of will; their purposes are many and varied, but they are most commonly shaped by imagination. And the more power one has over another, the more control a true name gives to the one who knows it. But by the same token, the bearer of a true name can unleash terrible power by speaking it. Thus, a true name is a metaphorical dual-edged sword.

But with rare exception, the use of true names is not as simple as speaking it and gaining complete control over someone. Most often, the use of a true name is something that happens during a particular ritual. This could be a ritual for summoning, a ritual to trap someone, a ritual to draw power or life from someone, a ritual to find someone, et cetera. When a true name is used, whether in ritual or by other means, its owner is always aware of it; they are not, however, always aware of the source or its location.

Where it becomes truly dangerous to speak a true name is when some form of binding has already been performed; such a binding requires something of deep personal meaning or some actual piece of the individual whose true name is being utilized. For example, a ritual in which a lock of hair and a signet ring are used as the necessary tokens to bind the ritual practitioner to the intended target would give that practitioner some measure of power over their target after the ritual; so calling that true name as the focus of a spell in a battle would make it impossible for the target to defend against, avoid, or resist that spell; or it would involve them somehow, such as forcing them to be summoned into a battle.

A common war tactic is thus to ritually bind someone to you, summon them in a fight, and then precede each command to them with their true name. While such a thing could be resisted, it would be extremely difficult to do so and might even cause pain ranging from mild to excruciating. And this would not be merely a physical pain; it would be pain that would shock the target to their core.

A way to use one's own true name to evoke power and authority is to channel magic into one's voice when speaking it. This requires focused intent and a solid idea of what one wants to accomplish. A general speaking of one's own true name with magic channeled through one's own voice might simply lash out like an earthquake, reverberating off of the surfaces of one's environment and perhaps even invoking fear, revulsion, hatred, anger, or other emotions from those around the speaker. Imagining a raging inferno, however, might suddenly make flames sprout from the objects or targets around the speaker; or one's own true name might be the key used to open a portal to a personal pocket plane.

So, as stated, the use of a true name is most often abstract. This is because such magic is malleable by design - though by precisely the design of who or what is unknown. What is known is that each individual is born with a true name even if that true name is never known to them. Keeping a true name secret is the best defense against others' use of it, which means that utilizing it yourself is - again - a dual-edged sword, one that ideally is utilized only in a desperate or perfectly timed moment.

This one's true name is Melanthaha, which means dark flower.

Melanthaha happens to know the true names of several others. They are secret knowledge she will do horrific things to protect, as she has no intention of getting involved in needless power struggles. She despises politics.

Azidahaka
is her father. She has never used this against him, but she has threatened to do so many times.

Ikwaokinyapippilele
is a noble of high birth, the only one over whom this one has power.

Itzcoliuhqui
is a whore in service to the one named above.

Kalidizorna
is one of her father's many whores. She has used this name several times.

Kresilvesilinor
is one of her father's advisors. She has used it only once to agonizing effect.

Sonneillon
is a noble of low birth.

Succorbenoth
is a noble of low birth.

Tlacatecolototl
is a noble of low birth.

In worlds outside her own, this one is known to others by many names. Among them are:

• Ambrosia
• Annabel Lee
• Pandora
• Tempest

"Dahlia" is the closest this one has come to her true name, and it is close only in descriptive definition of her true name's symbolic meaning. It is, however, the name by which she has chosen to be addressed most recently, and so it is the name that shall be used henceforth. Dahlia, unfortunately, has a habit of pissing off those of high nobility; they, in turn, have a habit of banishing her to a cold, unforgiving realm of mortals. With rare exception, it is nothing like the volcanic hellscape that is colloquially known by mortals as Tormentia, the plane of fire and madness. It is believed that those whose souls become trapped there are cursed to perish by fire yet never be consumed, forever subject to unfathomable tortures and inconceivable agony.

And it is ruled by demons. Some demons have adopted the mortal moniker "Hell" as a joke, one referenced lovingly by all who inhabit the place. Demons come in a plethora of shapes and sizes, but there is a kind of nobility there split into high-born and low-born nobility. Then there are the slaves - mortal souls torn from their bodies and reshaped into something usable by those that claim them. Not every demon deals in souls, of course; but many slavers and slave owners do exist. For the rest...they're just people living their lives day by Tormentian day. Well, so to speak.

On demons:

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You see, demons are immortal; they are able to live forever if not destroyed. And if they are destroyed, their essence seeps into Hell as what appears to be lava to all senses, even those of the demons that inhabit the place. Demons are immune to mundane fire and the fire of mortal magic but because the lava in Hell isn't true lava, they consider it warm and welcoming and are unharmed by it no matter how hot it is made to be. And if a demon is pissed off at you, it can make the rest of Hell look like the bitterest winter. In other words, don't piss off a demon, because it can get very hot.

Demons of Tormentia are able to reshape their bodies at will. However, this is not usually a defined reshaping; it is, like the power inherent in their true names, abstract. As such, no two demons will ever look the same and no single demon will ever completely reshape itself in the same way twice.

That being said, while demons do not need to eat or drink (or sleep, for that matter), consumption does grant them certain benefits. Drinking blood grants a demon limited knowledge of the source; the more of that blood a demon drinks, the more knowledge that demon gains. Drinking enough of it allows a demon to know another demon's true name, but somewhere in the vicinity of a single pint of blood allows the demon drinking it to guide their reshaping in a much more focused manner. While it's far from perfect, the most obvious effect is to take a form very similar to that of the one whose blood they have drunk.

A demon drinking the blood of a human, for example, could potentially become almost human in visible form. There would be obvious differences that could include skin color, the presence of horns or hooves, a tail, or other such things. No demon can ever look completely human without specific magic implemented to hide what they are.

Other parts of a body grant other effects when consumed, and the one whose blood is consumed guides the development of those effects. However, blood and other parts of a body are also included among the millions of viable ingredients and components used in the study and practice of both alchemy and potioneering (though more heavily in the latter than in the former by far).

Dahlia has studied a bit of both alchemy and potioneering, the latter of which includes an extensive (but not exhaustive) study of herbalism and xenobiology, but she is no expert in either. However, she is well-versed in how to utilize different species of bodies for a multitude of potions, elixirs, salves, solutions, and remedies as well as in certain arcane rituals. There are others with more knowledge than her but she has more than enough knowledge to be dangerous.

The summer court of the fae avoid demons like a plague; the winter court, however, have tapped into powerful magic that connect them to Tormentia and many other realms. They often make deals with demons, and Dahlia has learned several ritual spells from the winter court by way of such deals. She has acquired substances and artifacts of varying uses as well.

Dahlia's Possessions:

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One of Dahlia's most notable tools is a plain black powder that resembles coal dust. It is an arcane catalyst that can be used in many ways. She has used it to make explosive powders, deadly poisons, smeared it on various surfaces (including her own body) for various effects, and for other purposes and in other ways as well.

She also is in possession of an adamantium chain bracelet bearing a "mirror" through which other worlds can be observed. Dahlia primarily uses this to communicate with demons over whom she has power (that is, those whose true names are known to her) in Tormentia during those times when she has unfortunately (and inevitably) been banished from her world. She has also used it to communicate with fae from the winter court, though this is almost always brief as it's more a means of summoning them to make a deal than of holding long conversations about life and love.

One of her most potent abilities is to mix the black powder with a drop of her blood in order to create a ruby that binds her will to whatever it is attached to. This is an effective lock and sears even demons who dare to try to handle her possessions or go places they should not. In particular, she has used several drops of blood to form a ruby that serves as the pommel stone of her sword, which she has named Kharlzamburl; it is the name of an ancient ancestor who was slain a great many demonic bloodlines ago.

Kharlzamburl - the sword, not the demon - was shaped from a black bone taken from a demonic dragon. Three tiny blood rubies are also set into the hilt of the weapon, though these and the pommel stone are hidden by an added layer of a black powder mixture that serves as a protective polish. Its blade is sharp and jagged, beautiful in its horrific shape and in its terrifying nature. Those cut by it feel the agony of burning in lava, yet they are not actually burned; this sensation spreads throughout their body, eventually causing them to writhe in pain. Victims of the blade are ultimately unable to do anything but squirm and scream, and madness ensues when their will is broken. The only way to end this is death. Only dragons and demons seem to be immune to the horrific effect this weapon has on its victims.

Well...a caveat regarding Kharlzamburl. There is one other way to cure it - okay, two. If the cut's on a limb, you can cut off the limb before it spreads. But there's no way to know how far it's spread unless you're the one feeling the pain, and you may not be able to articulate exactly where to cut. But the other way is equally dangerous. There are two known plants that, oddly enough, can actually staunch it; once staunched, continued treatment can prevent it from spreading further and ultimately nullify its effects, although the "poison" (it's not really a poison but that's the closest word for it; curse, perhaps?) never truly goes away. So the treatment becomes lifelong. One plant is the corpse flower, and the other is the stinking corpse lily. Consumption of enough of any part of either of these plants will treat the infected. The problem is that these plants aren't edible, at least to most people. In fact, it's incredibly stupid and dangerous to eat them. Not only that, they both bear the stench of death and rot. Strongly. Good luck?

A band of solid gold that Dahlia carries was soaked in her blood in a ritual. This gave the ring a reddish tint and rendered it indestructible, but it also imbued the ring with powerful fae magic of the winter court. The ring allows her to do several things:

• Enter and influence - but not outright control - the dreams of mortals via deep meditation or a sleeping potion.
• "Hear" the surface thoughts of nearby mortals.
• Suppress or exacerbate the emotions of nearby mortals.
• Prevent spoken or written lies by nearby mortals.

Needless to say, it's an invaluable tool.

An adamantium monocle bearing a clear diamond lens allows Dahlia to see that which is hidden when worn, though it only seems to work in her left eye. Though it has no discernable effects when she wears it in her right eye, it does tend to give her a terrible migraine when she does that for some reason.

Dahlia's Magic & Skills:

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Dahlia is a master swordswoman. She is left-handed and likes to leave her right hand free; this, combined with the flexibility and practiced precision of her prehensile tail, gives her significant versatility in a fight. She is very quick and agile, has excellent reflexes, and knows how to take a hit. Her horns and hooves are natural weapons, but she can also utilize her claw-like fingernails and teeth as need be.

Her tongue is both metaphorically and literally dangerous, as her saliva is acidic. Her blood acts as a fever-inducing poison to humans and similar mortals, and many infected by it also develop painful boils and necrosis of the flesh over time; while humans alone are known to die exclusively from this, other species tend to survive it; some die by other means while infected.

Spellcraft​

Hellfire
This magic can only be channeled while a direct link to Tormentia is maintained. Should a Tormentian be banished from Tormentia, that link is broken and must be reestablished; this can be done simply by existing in Tormentia for a time or by making a deal that reestablishes that connection.
By focusing channeled magic on a specific target(s) and snapping her fingers, Dahlia can manifest Tormentian flames thereupon. These flames cannot be doused with water; they must be smothered. They spread quickly if a single cinder remains, igniting almost instantly after the rest has been put out. The flames do not merely burn from the outside, however; they also cook from the inside. A victim's one saving grace might be that if the external flames are completely smothered, the internal burning will cease as well. It is from this internal effect that Dahlia derived the agonizing effect of her sword when it cuts something.

Hellfire Bridge
This spell requires access to Hellfire; see above for more info.
This spell requires an anchor. By striking the anchor into a point and casting this spell, a bridge wrought of Hellfire between the original point of the caster and the anchor point; at the caster point, a bonfire is created that engulfs but does not harm the caster. Once the anchor is removed, the bridge vanishes and so does the bonfire. Only demons can cross this bridge, though those of demonic heritage may be able to utilize it as well; and of course, anyone passing through the Hellfire will be subject to its effects (see Hellfire, above). Dahlia typically hurls her sword into a point across a gap so that it sinks into whatever it has struck; this allows it to serve as an anchor point for the bridge when she casts the spell.

True Name Binding
This ritual requires access to Hellfire, either by magic or by solution; see Hellfire, above, for more info on the magic.
This ritual is very similar to the summoning ritual mentioned below but it bears key differences. The circle can be much smaller, for a start, as it needs only surround two key components: a physical piece of the one whose true name is known and who is to be bound to the ritual practitioner, and an object of deep personal significance to the one who is to be bound. These two items are placed upon a glyph that is surrounded by a circle of Hellfire, and a chant including the target's true name is uttered.

Those bound to the ritual practitioner in this manner can be summoned with the proper ritual (such as the one mentioned below), cannot lie to the one to whom they are bound either in speech or writing, and can always hear the ritual practitioner speak their true name regardless of whether they exist upon the same plane. When this last is done, a sense of the direction in which the one who did the binding ritual lies (and their distance from the one whose true name has been spoken) is felt; if they do not exist on the same plane when this occurs, only the plane upon which the binder resides is known. When the true name of one who is so bound is spoken, commands given to and magic used upon them by the one who bound them are impossible to resist.

The binding, however, is not one-way. The bound also cannot be lied to in speech or writing by the binder, and the binder's true name becomes known to the bound once the ritual is complete. The binder can hear their true name spoken by the bound as well, with the same direction and distance felt as by the bound when their true name is spoken by the binder. The advantage here, however, is that the bound holds no power over the binder when speaking the binder's true name. Many binders give a command to those bound to them never to reveal their true name by any means; it is for this reason that the bound are almost always summoned immediately after being bound.

This bond can only be broken by the death of either the binder or the bound.

True Name Summoning
This ritual requires access to Hellfire, either by magic or by solution; see Hellfire, above, for more info on the magic.
This ritual allows Dahlia to summon someone or something specific by utilizing its true name in a chant. The ritual is performed by creating a circle of Hellfire surrounding a summoning glyph carved into a surface such as the floor or a pillar. Once summoned, the individual cannot leave that circle until the flames have been at least partially smothered, which creates an opening through which they can pass.

Potioneering​

Fire Breath Potion
By drinking this extremely spicy potion, which has a shifting color scheme of red and orange, Dahlia can breathe fire for a short span of time. But this isn't just the ability to do so - it's the compulsion to do so. It's sort of like a gag reflex: the longer she goes without utilizing the potion's effect, the more inclined she is to spew flames whether she wants to or not. The fire produced by drinking this potion is hot enough to melt steel, given enough time and focus. It is concocted by boiling a dragon's gas or oil sac - contained in the throat - in a solution of dragon bone ash and dragon saliva.

Glimmer Potion
This is one of the potions Dahlia has learned how to concoct from the dark fae of the winter court.
By drinking this oddly flavorless potion, which has a shifting color scheme of blue and silver, Dahlia can give her body a shimmering effect can appear as a particular illusory form. With no additives, she simply appears to be shiny and may partly or completely vanish when turning a certain way under certain light; moonlight in particular seems to render her almost completely invisible when exposed. The more she drinks, the more apt she is to seem ghost-like and translucent. However, by adding certain components to the potion taken from specific subjects, the potion can create a more substantial illusion to give her body a specific look. Hair from a human, for example, can give her body the illusion of looking like that human from whom the hair was taken; or shavings of horn, bone, or hoof from another demon can instead make her look like that demon. The effect is purely illusory and does not affect her voice.

Hellfire Solution
This solution requires several ingredients that are extremely difficult to come by and is inert until it becomes active by means of the user's action. The solution mimics Hellfire, a form of native Tormentian channeled magic (see Hellfire, above) inherently known to almost all denizens of Tormentia. Among the ingredients are the tongue and heart of a Tormentian demon; they don't have to be from a living demon but must be fresh enough for their inherent magic to still be potent. A chunk of coal ground into powder and ash from a dragon's bone are also required, as is the blood of a Tormentian demon. This last is important as it is what activates the solution; once the blood is added, a few moments pass as the solution boils itself and expands. After those few moments, it ignites and spreads to whatever is flammable nearby. Like Hellfire cast by channeled magic, this cannot be doused; it must be smothered. The solution is sometimes used by demons who have been banished from Tormentia either as a throwable weapon or for rituals requiring Hellfire, since those banished no longer have access to their innate magic.

Sleeping Potion
This is one of the potions Dahlia has learned how to concoct from the dark fae of the winter court.
By drinking this sweet-and-sour-smelling potion, which has a shifting color scheme of plum-colored purple and violet, Dahlia can induce a deep sleep within her body. This lasts for several hours, the duration depending on how much of the potion she's consumed. She uses this potion very rarely, as the only reason to do so is to allow her to dreamwalk. Her black powder mixture is a key ingredient in the potion.

Dahlia's Most Recent Expulsion from Tormentia
Dahlia's Most Recent Arrival in a Mortal Realm​

 

[Sylent Hyll]

True Name:

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Zagamonzon

Mortal Alias: Drexel

He sometimes uses the name Alastor Crowley as a joke or to throw off people who aggravate him that he can't just murder outright for whatever reason. It's a name people would expect of a red-skinned demon, after all. But the truth is, he likes Drexel much better. It's the name he uses among mortals; it's unique, it's simple, and it serves its purpose.

Drexel also has a pet named Druzil. To call it a cat is generous, but it looks vaguely like one and absolutely acts like one. There are significant differences, however. While it resembles a siamese cat in shape and general appearance, its ears are very much demon-like and situated lower on its head than most cats have their ears. It's hairless and its skin, like Drexel's, is blood-red. The sclera of each of its eyes is black rather than white, though it does have large yellow irises with small pupils - and it can't see shit in the dark, much to Drexel's annoyance. It also has a very long, rope-like tail ending in a small tuft of coarse black hair; seriously, the tail is longer than the "cat" is. Oh, did I mention the cat can talk?

Drexel and Druzil, being of Tormentian origin, are both completely immune to fire and prefer things hot. As in, you can fry an egg on the cobblestone just by cracking it there. The cat can teleport using fire, though the fire has to already exist; it can't just randomly pop over to wherever it likes by bursting into flame or...something. And no, it doesn't breathe fire. But yes, like Drexel, it's immortal until destroyed.

Don't destroy Druzil. You'll have Drexel to deal with.

Drexel has a dragonhide tent he likes to pitch outside of settlements that is much larger on the inside than it is on the outside, as the tent acts like a gateway into a pocket plane of his own making. If there's someone mortal who is considered a master alchemist and potioneer about, they are but an idiot child compared to Drexel - or so people are often led to believe. It was using a mix of alchemy and potioneering that he created his pocket plane in the first place, and it was through this mixed practice that he was able to create a permanent point of ingress and egress via his tent. He also used his talents to connect the pocket plane to Tormentia, though it is not bound thereto.

Within the pocket plane exists several rooms, one of which holds a forge that serves as the connection to Tormentia. The lava is drawn from Tormentia as though through a well, and the heat in that room is absolutely unbearable to mortals - but perfectly comfortable for Drexel. Using a mix of dragon ash, dragon bone, and dragon's blood as the basis for his crafting, he works with his hands to create unique and beautiful bottles for potions and other purposes; dishes that serve as fine glassware for many different occasions; and "glass" sculptures that are quite striking. His creative process is much the same as a sculptor molding clay, the difference being that he's working with literal lava instead of water and glass heated to a couple of thousand degrees instead of clay. All of the glassworks he creates have earned the moniker "demonglass" for how indestructible they are.

Of course, his actual trade is in potions of every possible variety and rare ingredients that are extremely difficult or tedious to come by. While he can deal in local currency, he prefers to deal in trade and favors. Bring him something rare and valuable, and you will certainly earn yourself those dozen Hellfire potions you're wanting; go rescue a half-Tormentian girl from some overzealous priests and bring her to him for her protection and a proper upbringing, and you're sure to get his help directly in confronting whatever evils might be plaguing your world.

That's how he came by his daughter, in fact. Her mother was supposedly a demonic dragon-spider, an intelligent and ancient heavily armored giant spider from Tormentia; her father...eh, who knows. Some mortal on some mortal plane somewhere. She's loyal to her father despite the fact that she's been grown and living with him now for a couple of centuries - something like...250? 270? Years. Something like that. She's very similar to him and likes to walk around in...alluring...clothing. However, her adoptive father couldn't care less; he's not into women and even if he was, this is his daughter for all intents and purposes. He just doesn't see her in...that way.

His daughter's true name is Awarghomon ("aa-WARG-ho-mon"). She is known to mortals as Melanthia, or Mel for short.

So the front room of his tent is the only one most people ever see; it's the shop, filled with shelves and tables covered in every manner of (surprisingly well-organized) potions and ingredients. Every bottle or vial he makes is enchanted at the time of its making with an incantation that returns it to its source when it's empty - complete with topper, if they're separated. And if someone was to walk out without paying, there's another enchantment - this one upon the tent itself. Anything created in his pocket plane that passes into the tent becomes subject to this enchantment. If it leaves the tent without him first touching it and willingly passing ownership of it to someone else, the vessel immediately returns to its original location and the would-be thief bursts into flames of Hellfire.

Don't steal from Drexel.

True Names Known to Him:

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• Abuballon
• Aesiellyn
  ("AY-zhee-EL-lin")
• Awareshmah
  Awarghomon
• Nijanebos
  ("NEE-yuh-NAY-bows", hard "s" at the end)
• Ukobaddon
• Zagamonwe
• Zebosdeyas

Drexel's Magic & Skills:

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Potioneering​

Alchemical Planar Creation Potion
This one is, quite obviously, not for sale. It's an exceedingly complex and difficult concoction to brew that creates an expandable pocket plane. The size and nature of the plane can only be adjusted while the potion is active; once it takes form and sets, the pocket plane is immutable. Things can be created, destroyed, altered, utilized, or simply stored within it, but a created plane cannot be altered or destroyed in and of itself once it's finished. This is perhaps one of the most complicated potions in existence, and there are innumerable ways to alter it while its brewing. It's used by simply allowing it to consume the vessel in which it's been created, thereby fueling its final expansion and shaping; and in this last stretch of the process, it separates itself from other planes of existence and forces itself beyond them.

A binding agent must be used during the brewing in order to have a way in or out of the plane. Drexel bound his to a dragonhide tent that he carries about, accessible through a "well" therein. An improperly concocted binding agent or an anti-binding agent can destroy the potion while it's brewing, a very useful thing to do when the brewer is not liking how it's turning out. The brewing itself relies heavily upon the brewer's will as well, which makes the brewer's own blood and possibly other components (and that's the only hint you're getting, you plebians) absolutely essential; focus is also essential, as distractions can radically alter the results - sometimes catastrophically.

The pocket plane can be allowed to "bleed" into other planes through the binding agent, but this is not often done as it makes the process much more complicated. Thus, Drexel's tent is a rarity in that he allowed the plane to bleed into the tent to which it was bound; this is why the tent is much larger on the inside than it is on the outside, why there are multiple rooms, and why he is able to affect things so completely that pass through the tent from his pocket plane.

Animation Potion
Do not drink this. It will have horrible effects if you do. What this potion does, when applied, is it causes something to begin moving of its own accord. The movements are typically erratic, and they don't last more than a few minutes at a time; most people use it as a joke. Spread a little on a coffee table, and suddenly your friend thinks he had a little too much pot. Drinking it, however...well, it reacts very poorly with living things. Imagine if your stomach starts stretching and contorting itself to the point that it shreds the lining, and then the entire wall. Suddenly you're bleeding internally, and now what's left of the potion is spreading to your other organs and other parts of your body...yeah, it's nasty.

Dragon's Wrath Potion
This is less of a potion and more of a poison. Dragon's blood is the key ingredient, as it's extremely lethal to most mortals; it causes severe burns and feeds on air, which makes imbibing it literally suicidal as it suffocates and horribly burns the victim. This potion, however, has other ingredients as well - ingredients Drexel is not prone to sharing with those who don't already know how to brew it. Unlike raw dragon's blood, this potion keeps the victim alive and spreads the pain around. The longer it's in someone's system, the more of their body becomes infected. Yet however much of their internal body is burned by the potion, it always seems to keep them alive just a little longer. People have died by other means while this potion was in their system, but the excruciating heat and burns of this potion stem from something specifically concocted to not kill someone - but rather, to prolong their suffering.

Elemental Infusion
This one you drink. It does a couple of things, depending on how it's mixed. Basically, this gives you resistance - or, if you drink enough of it, complete immunity - to a particular element. This might be fire (the most common one), cold, acid, or (believe it or not) even sunlight. Sadly doesn't seem to affect vampires, but dhampir handle it just fine; I think it's because they can't drink anything except blood? Maybe. The dose determines the extent of your protection; it takes a full pint to gain immunity. But the stronger the effect, the shorter its duration; full immunity will only last for five or ten minutes at the most, while a mild resistance - enough to stick your hand in a campfire long enough to pick up something you dropped, for example, and not get burned - could last for upwards of an hour or two. Longest I heard about was something like five or maybe six hours?

Fire-resistance infusions also seem to make your skin increasingly cold to the touch, while cold-resistance infusions tend to make your skin increasingly hot to the touch. Lightning-resistance infusions make your skin feel rubbery. Acid-resistance infusions make your skin feel almost liquidy, though there's no visual representation to denote this. Poison and disease resistances technically fall under this class of infusions as well. Elemental just happened to be the most apt description for it.

Ethereal Vision Elixir
This silvery, almost translucent substance isn't actually drunk; it's applied - just a single drop - to each of your eyes. Once you do, wait about a minute and remember to blink rapidly so you can properly absorb it. What it does is allow your eyes to pierce the veil, seeing things that you ordinarily couldn't. Invisibility of any kind takes on a sort of ghostly, translucent visibility to you; spirits and other things mortals can't normally see at all become visible in much the same manner. But it also allows you to peer through solid objects and people - like an x-ray, basically. Surprisingly, it's not so good for looking at people's undergarments or what's beneath them, as you're also seeing through the people; so you might see exactly what you want to see, or it might become so diluted with other things you're seeing through that you basically can't see exactly what you wanted to see. This is great for adventurers, though! Also spies.

Fire Breath Potion
By drinking this extremely spicy potion, which has a shifting color scheme of red and orange, the imbiber can breathe fire for a short span of time. But this isn't just the ability to do so - it's the compulsion to do so. It's sort of like a gag reflex: the longer the imbiber goes without utilizing the potion's effect, the more inclined the imbiber is to spew flames whether they want to or not. The fire produced by drinking this potion is hot enough to melt steel, given enough time and focus. It is concocted by boiling a dragon's (preferably full) gas or oil sac - contained in the throat - in a solution of dragon bone ash and dragon saliva.

Fluid Expander
Not sure expander is the right word...regardless, this is one of those potions that can be very useful or downright nasty. Pour a little of it into something like a cleaning solution, and you've got a great way to use as little of that solution as possible while cleaning an entire large area! Pour a little into you, however...yeah, don't do that. Because it does exactly what you think it does.

It causes an existing fluid to...well, basically produce more of itself for a few seconds. It has an extremely short duration by design, being heavily diluted by water - the one thing it doesn't actually "expand".

Y'know what...you seem stupid enough. Go ahead. Drink it. I dare you. Just don't come crying to me when you suddenly have ten times your usual amount of stomach acid eating through your stomach...intestines...throat...

Forgetfulness Potion
The imbiber of this particular potion becomes somewhat scatterbrained while under its effects. The more the victim drinks, the more they forget. Their mind fogs, and memories seem to slip away from them; remembering anything at all becomes difficult until the effects have dissipated, but a full mug of tea's worth of the stuff is enough to make someone forget the last twenty-four hours completely. Any more than that, and there's an increasing chance of developing pounding migraines and possibly even permanent memory damage. Best dosage is just a few drops in someone's tea, as that's enough to make them forget anywhere from a few minutes to about an hour or so. Good way to get rid of bad memories and traumatic experiences.

Frost-Skin Potion
I strongly reccommend wearing layers of clothing before pouring this over yourself. I also strongly reccommend you do not drink it; while natural body heat can stave off the effects of very small quantities, more than a few drops and you will quickly begin to freeze to death. When poured over yourself, preferably while wearing the aforementioned layers, a thick layer of oddly weightless frost and ice develops; the potion freezes almost instantly in open air, though the vial that contains it is enchanted to prevent this effect - which means that it'll remain a liquid until you actually pour it.

This coating is a good light-weight armor that holds in your body heat exceptionally well and staves off winter's chill and the weather effects that come with it; it's also very strong ice, strong enough to withstand most physical assaults you might suffer. That's not to say it cushions you, so you'd best not go blaming me if you jump off a cliff and somehow manage to crush every bone in your body. But it will serve as a kind of frozen armor. It lasts about an hour once it freezes, and it only protects you where it actually lands...so bear that in mind. Once it melts, it's just like water. One full vial is usually enough to cover a human's clothes, assuming they're bundled up.

Oh, and I wouldn't pour it directly on your skin, either; ice on skin tends to be not so nice.

Hellfire Solution
This solution requires several ingredients that are extremely difficult to come by and is inert until it becomes active by means of the user's action. The solution mimics Hellfire, a form of native Tormentian channeled magic inherently known to almost all denizens* of Tormentia. Among the ingredients are the tongue and heart of a Tormentian demon; they don't have to be from a living demon but must be fresh enough for their inherent magic to still be potent. A chunk of coal ground into powder and ash from a dragon's bone are also required, as is the blood of a Tormentian demon. This last is important as it is what activates the solution; once the blood is added, a few moments pass as the solution boils itself and expands. After those few moments, it ignites and spreads to whatever is flammable nearby. Like Hellfire cast by channeled magic, this cannot be doused; it must be smothered. The solution is sometimes used by demons who have been banished from Tormentia either as a throwable weapon or for rituals requiring Hellfire, since those banished no longer have access to their innate magic.

Inversion Concoction
This is one of Drexel's viler concoctions. It's the kind of thing that if you're asking about...you probably shouldn't have it. But he'll (probably) sell it to you, anyway! For the right price, of course. This one is not something you imbibe - that would be a horrific way to go. Instead, it's someone you soak someone in. Preferably someone else. I mean, you could soak yourself in it...but seriously, how masochistic are you that you would subject yourself to this...stuff? What is wrong with you?

Oh, right. The concoction. So, it looks like a brownish, grayish sludge and it's a lot thicker than your grandmother's gravy or your daddy's beans. The aroma is somewhere between rotting garbage and whatever just came out of the wrong end of you that made all your relatives gag at Thanksgiving dinner. If you can get past all that...there's an oddly sickly-sweet undertone to it. Oh, but what does it do, you ask?

Don't argue. You asked.

Soaking something that's alive in this stuff causes its body to slowly invert itself. It's a slow, sticky, excrutiating form of agony that bonds to the victim's body in such a way that it becomes impossible to escape; and once the process is complete and the concoction has completely soaked into the victim, they're alive but look like an inverted, slimy, gray-brown figure of themselves. You know those gray plastic molds of human bodies that give you great detail in all the little organs and the muscles and the digestive systems and...oh, you don't know what all that means? Well, it looks kind of like that. And where's your flesh? Oh, well that's all squashed inside as it's been sucked into you.

It's disgusting but what's worse is that now the victim can feel everything inside them...except that it's outside of them. And all those minor annoyances like wind and heat and rain and things that prickle your skin and what-not and make you wear clothes? Yeah, now those things are hitting your insides...that are now outside. And on top of all that, you constantly feel the extreme pressure of having all your flesh and hair nails and what-not crushed into a mess inside you.

Even worse, you seem to lightly stick to everything; and the more a certain spot of you sticks to something, the stronger that stickiness becomes - to the point that if you can pull away, you might pull apart your...well, not your flesh, but your body...with it. And if you want to scratch an itch...well, that might be a little worse (and/or a little more impossible) than it usually is.

Did I mention it's irreversible?

Metal-Skin Potion
This potion is best drunk in very small quantities. What it does is forces your skin to develop a hard coating of reflective metal that's highly resistant to the things that would affect ordinary metals (i.e. heat, cold, corrosion, etc.). The more you drink of this, the more pronounced the effect is and the longer it lasts. HOWEVER, the more pronounced the effect, the more difficulty you have moving and speaking, or even breathing. Drink too much, and you will begin to actually spread the effect to the inside of your body - starting just under your skin. People have literally drunk full vials of this stuff only to turn into metal statues that eventually suffocate and perish. That's why it's best to only drink it in very small quantities, no more than a few drops - just enough to give yourself a durable metallic armor that's at least as strong as tungsten carbide, but not enough to harm you. One drop takes about thirty seconds to take effect and lasts for about five minutes or so, but additional drops exponentially increase the duration.

Rock-Skin Potion
This potion is best drunk in very small quantities. What it does is forces your skin to develop a coarse, perhaps even jagged, layer of granite-hard minerals. The more you drink of this, the more pronounced the effect is and the longer it lasts. HOWEVER, the more pronounced the effect, the more difficulty you have moving and speaking, or even breathing. Drink too much, and you can actually cause enough of a rocky surface to grow that it develops under your skin and actually starts to radically reduce your quality of life. People have literally drunk full vials of this stuff only to turn into rock statues that eventually suffocate and perish. That's why it's best to only drink it in very small quantities, no more than a few drops - just enough to give yourself a rocky armor hard as granite or even diamond, but not enough to harm you. One drop takes about thirty seconds to take effect and lasts for about five minutes or so, but additional drops exponentially increase the duration.

Concoctions that don't need much of an explanation:

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• Anti-Aging Elixir: Slows or entirely stops the aging process in mortals; only lasts for a few years.
• Blinding Mixture: Comes in either liquid or powder form; either way, renders the victim permanently blind.
• Burning Potion: It sets things on fire. Normal fire, though, not Hellfire.
• Cure-All: Not a disease cure, though it does very quickly eliminate most minor to moderate maladies.
• Deafening Potion: Renders the imbiber permanently deaf.
• Flight Potion: Renders you almost weightless and extremely bouyant; takes some practice but it's like swimming in the air.
• Growth Potion: Best when applied rather than drunk, unless you're going for that whole-body growing effect.
• Healing Potion: Works best when applied to wounds and also imbibed, instead of just one or the other.
• Intellectual Stimulant: Temporarily makes the imbiber think much faster than normal and greatly enhances cognitive reasoning.
• Invisibility Potion: Comes in a variety of potencies, though various dosages can also affect their durations.
• Luck Elixir: Gives the imbiber uncanny intuition and instincts, making them seem extremely "lucky".
• Melting Potion: Potent acid that will eat through just about anything - or anyone.
• Night-Vision Potion: Temporarily transmogrifies the imbiber's eyes into nocturnal animalistic versions thereof.
• Shrinking Solution: Best when applied rather than drunk, unless you're going for that whole-body shrinking effect.
• Stamina Solution: Temporarily provides the imbiber with a seemingly endless supply of stamina.
• Stone Transmogrifier: Unlike the Rock-Skin Potion, this literally turns the imbiber to stone from the inside going out. Permanently.
• Strength Solution: Temporarily makes the imbiber incredibly strong compared to their usual ability.
• Transmogrifier: Innumerable varieties; transforms the imbiber into an animal.

*Drexel is one of those that may or may not possess the ability to channel Hellfire. He's never done so, but he has utilized Hellfire solutions in the past.

 

[Sylent Hyll]

Name: Cressida ("Cress") Cassidy
Gender: NB (AFAB)
Pronouns: They/Them*
Sexuality: Pansexual
PB: Nastya Kusakina

Likes: Pizza, Green Tea, Crown & Coke (also just Crown), MILFs, Redheads, and Horror Flicks
Dislikes: You, Dominant Partners**

Cress has one notable on-again, off-again fling who considers them her ex-boyfriend - which is fine. They're never really the stable relationship type but they still have a lot of fun when they get together with their favorite redhead. Her name is Rikki and they're pretty sure she robs houses when she's not working, drinking, or gorging on seafood. (Seriously, does that girl's appetite ever end? How high is her fucking metabolism?!)

*They honestly couldn't care less what you call them. He, she, they, that person, hey you...whatever.
**Not to say their partners can't be sassy girls. Sassy girls can be fun. Sassy boys, too. Or w/e.
**But they like to be the one in charge. And sometimes, they like to watch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Rikki Ridley
Gender: NB (AFAB)
Pronouns: She/They
Sexuality: Gay/Confused?*
PB: AI Art

Dog: Gorgeous female brindle French bulldog named Ripley.
Likes: Sci-Fi & Horror Flicks, Butterflies, Fireflies, Dragonflies, Dragons, and Yo Mama's [CENSORED]
Dislikes: YOU

Profession: Bag-Person at Yoke's Flesh Fresh Market
Moonlighting: B&E, Pickpocket, Safecracker, "Security Specialist"

Rikki has a nasty habit of sneaking up on people. In fact, most people don't even realize she exists until she talks. It's kinda funny, considering how hard it is to miss her long, straight, fire-engine-red hair. She has gray-green that weirdly change color depending upon the light as well, though that just helps her be more of a chameleon. She prefers the nocturnal hours not just because it's easier to sneak about but because, while she doesn't have porphyria, she is fair-skinned enough that light just makes her look paler than she is; it's weird. Also, she burns really easily, so the beach is out.

She's an ostraconophiliac. This means that she loves seafood, especially shellfish. She has a really high metabolism, though she's not medicated for it; her OnlyFans has mukbang videos where she's gorging on seafood (mostly shellfish) in the nude.

She lives in a crappy bunghole of an shoebox apartment on the second floor of a four-story deathtrap. There's an Irish corner pub near where she lives called O'Malley's and it's attached to a seafood joint called O'Reilly's; the former was named more to Irish it up than to ID the owner (whose name she doesn't know), but the latter was named as a play on the former to piss off the owner of the pub. It worked. The Yoke's she works at is across the street from the pub and is barely serviceable; a lot of the fridge doors are broken (but somehow still attached), the lighting (when it works) flickers constantly, and nobody (including her) gives a shit about your pathetic life. You wanna buy something, find it yourself and pay for it; otherwise, GTFO. Yeah, it's not the nicest neighborhood.

Obviously, she doesn't case her own neighborhood. Just in case you were wondering.

Rikki has one ex-boyfriend, another enby afab named Cress. He has long, straight, blonde hair and is gorgeous. They're sort of an on-again, off-again thing; as such, he's pretty much permanently stuck in "ex" status even though he has an occasional fling with her.

*Blonde boys are interesting sometimes. If they're pretty. Maybe if they're cute. Are they, though?
*Wait, if she's an enby, is she even gay? How exactly do the puzzle pieces fit together here?
*Honestly, it's only something she thinks about when she's bored and horny. Or horny and bored.