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Die Anew

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To see a briefer synopsis of the plot, click here.

Click here for the OoC thread.


Cold, blackness, misery, emptiness. An overwhelming force pulls at you, wanting to tear you from your body. But no! Now’s not the time; you can feel it in your bones… Too soon. There’s too much left to do. Death, however, does not discriminate. The young, the old, the strong, the weak, the rich, the poor, the ready, the un-ready. A precipice, standing at the edge, losing your balance no matter how much you flail your arms. No hope. No escape. You still feel every stab of pain. No relief. There will be none until the darkness swallows you completely.


And the funny thing is, this sensation is now familiar, since you go through it every single morning. Die anew, my fellow Nightwalker. When night comes, rise again so that you may die once more.



Nightwalkers are, in a sense, zombies. They have intelligence, as much as you or me. However, they have died and been gifted "life" again, or more aptly, half a life. Any human can become a Nightwalker. There are two ways to become a Nightwalker; one is voluntary and the other is not.


The methods for creating a Nightwalker will be addressed later though. The most common form of Nightwalker is the involuntarily-created kind. Once an involuntary Nightwalker is created, their life instantly transforms. During the night, they are able to function, move around and interact as any human would. However, when the first rays of light hits them, they are dragged into the Underworld. Each time feels like dying all over again. While they are in the Underworld, their body is exposed and vulnerable. There are some injuries that even a Nightwalker can't handle. They can lose limbs, get stabbed, be shot, and suffer many other injuries without dying, but even they will perish if they are decapitated or disemboweled. If a Nightwalker's body is destroyed, then both halves of their soul cease to exist, similar to what happens to a whole soul that is consumed by the monsters of the Underworld.


Unlike the voluntary kind of Nightwalker, which is created through trickery, the involuntary kind, created by Nocturnes, still retains some vital functions. Their hearts will occasionally beat, and they breathe out of habit, even though they don't technically need to to survive. However, the longer a Nightwalker has been around, the more likely it will be that even this habit is lost.


There's no technical lifespan for a Nightwalker, but they do tend to be younger. Humans, terrified of them, viciously hunt them and kill them in their "morning-sleeps" ... or at least the humans that still believe in their existence. All but one of the ancient Nightwalkers, Gregant, have perished. No Nightwalker alive is older that 200 years. Nearly two centuries ago, there was a vicious campaign to eradicate them, and it was nearly successful. However, a recent increase in scientific understanding has caused people to write off Nightwalkers as old legends, merely figments in the imaginations of ancient, misinformed peoples.


If you're a Nightwalker, any injuries you receive will never heal, so be careful before you let someone cut your hand off. Contrary to popular belief, you can't just sew it back on. Nightwalkers that died violently still retain the wound that caused their demise. It's quite likely if you died from a disease, you'll show no external signs at all. However, there are some things that not even a Nocturne's magic can't repair. If your body was extremely mutilated at death, they will be unable to revive you. The worst injury you could have suffered at death before revival are burns.


As time passes, your body will slowly transform. The say after a year, your eyes will turn red like those of a Nocturne. After three, your nails will transform into claws. Some of the older Nightwalkers, over 50 years old, begin to have scales grow on their bodies. The oldest of the old, 150 or above, can be completely covered in scales from head to toe. However, the most disturbing thing of all is the sensation that your life is like a dream, like you are only half in the world, that some part of you is missing. This feeling will never go away; learn to "live" with it.


Just like humans, Nightwalkers have free choice. There is a small group of them that stick together in an attempt to protect themselves. This group is known as the Gathering. The Gathering tries to initiate any new Nightwalkers they find into their order, but they won't force them. A Nightwalker can choose to strike out on their own, as long as they are aware of the dangers. The leader of the Gathering changes sporadically. Like any other group, people fight for power and prestige. Still, they have to be careful that any in-fighting doesn't distract them from the main goal of the group: survival.


However, there are some that have another goal entirely: to escape what they consider a curse. For these people, the goal is to try and find Etolia, something akin to the concept of heaven, in the afterlife, since that is rumored to be the only way a Nightwalker can ever find proper peace. If you do manage to find it, the two halves of your soul will be reunited in the afterlife and continue to live on in the Garden of Peace, finally free. It depends on whether you value "life" or this elusive concept of peace that's rumored to exist. This path, however, is dangerous. The Underworld is no friendly place, and the Guardians will not light your way.


~*The Guardians of the Underworld*~


The Guardians of the Underworld, or Nocturnes, are the only creatures naturally designed to have a split soul. Half of it resides in the "living" world, the other half in the world of the dead. No one knows how they came into existence, but they are afflicted with the overwhelming desire to protect humans, both in death and in life. Unfortunate circumstances have prevented Nocturnes from doing their proper task in recent times: mainly collecting souls, delivering them to the Underworld, and protecting the souls while they are there. Now nearly purposeless, their numbers are slowly dwindling. There will, perhaps, even come a time when they cease to exist and humanity will have to face the Underworld completely alone.


During the day, the Guardians are in the Underworld. There, they have a citadel that goes by the name of Lyambo. Lyambo is much like a human city, full of people... These people just happen to be the souls of the dead. It even has it's own monarchs: the two oldest souls that have not yet attempted to find Etolia. The Guardians protect the gates of the city, preventing the monsters outside the walls getting in. Lyambo is a safe haven; however, one will not find perfect peace there. The longer a soul stays, the more restless it becomes with the monotony of staying there. Eventually, almost all souls leave in an attempt to find Etolia.


Occasionally, a Nocturne will flee the mountains, tired of hiding from their human counterparts, who they were designed to protect and serve. However, they are now forbidden to collect souls as they once did, which weighs heavily on their shoulders, since it's as natural to them as eating and breathing. In an attempt to do what little they can to help, they will find a worthy human and give them a second chance. Death requires a whole soul as payment. If someone is dying, the Nocturne can chose to sacrifice the half of their soul that resides on earth, paying half the debt, so half the soul of the dying person may remain in their stead. And so, a Nightwalker is born.


If you are a Nocturne that has sacrificed half your soul to save a human, creating a Nightwalker, then you exist in the Underworld perpetually, and your body is always frozen in the living world, much like a statue. For you, there is no rest from guarding the gates of the city, even though the monsters do not tend to attack during the time that most Nocturnes are awake.


If you're a Nocturne that hasn't, half your time is spent in the Waking World. While there, you spend your time hidden away in the mountains, having abandoned the company of humans, trying to live with the fact you can no longer perform your duty, on order from the entity that created you... Not even you are sure what that entity is, since only your leader can talk to it, but disobeying it has severe consequences. Instead, you distract yourself by going about your daily activities: eating, drinking, watching any young if you happen to have any. It's a forced and difficult existence, but not impossible.


Nocturnes are relatively small compared to some dragons. They are only the size of two men standing tall, anywhere between 10'-15'. There are occasionally larger individuals, but they are few and far between. They have ruby red eyes and never blink, which can be unsettling to many people. They have claws and teeth, but they are mainly used for protecting. They only hunt when other sources of food are scarce. Both the males and females have ram's horns; however, they tend to be a bit larger on the males. Scales vary in color from brown to dull blue, no other colors. They have large wings, the size of almost their whole body, which they keep tucked against their sides when walking. However, these large wings make land travel awkward, so they spend most of their time in the air.



This group, called Blessed, is almost unknown. They are the sons and daughters of Nightwalkers, sometimes with a human and sometimes with another Nightwalker. They are as full of life as any human; however, they have a special connection to the Nocturnes. They live with the perpetual desire to seek them out in the mountains and live in unity with them. They can have special powers, nothing extreme however. For each Blessed, it can manifest itself in a unique way. For example, some can visit the Underworld on a whim, despite whether it is night or day. They can't stay there for more than a few hours at a time however. For others, it might be a physical manifestation, such as red eyes. Yet, still, there is even more variety than that. Not all of them have powers though, some only retaining the desire to live in harmony with the Guardians of the Underworld.




Humans, needless to say, do not need much explanation. They exist in the Waking World perpetually. Some of them believe in the Nightwalkers and belong to secret organizations dedicated to eradicating them. Some think the idea is ridiculous and refuse to accept their existence. Finally, some have managed to befriend Nightwalkers and ally themselves with them. This group is not large though, since most consider them unnatural beings.




In this roleplay, the culture is not quite modern, but it is no longer medieval either. Science is just beginning to take root. There's also the beginnings of industrialization. Many people are moving to cities to work in the newly built textile mills. The country where this is occuring, Viskra, is similar to some European countries in the early days of the Industrial Revolution. There are four seasons: summer, winter, fall, and spring. However, just because this roleplay is occurring in Viskra doesn't mean that Nightwalkers are restricted to this country alone. They exist all throughout the world. Feel free to make a character from another country, even from a "primitive" culture, just find a suitable excuse for them to have come to Viskra. The capital city is Tumac. Much of the roleplay will happen there. This is refered to as the "Waking World."


On the flip side, there is also the Underworld, where half of the Nightwalkers' time is spent. Lyambo is the one and only city in the Underworld, where all the souls gather until they are ready to seek out Etolia. Outside the gates of Lyambo, let your imagination run wild. There can be all sorts of monsters and terrains. It's actually said that the Underworld is constantly shifting, and that everyone experiences it differently. Perhaps this is why it's so difficult to find the Garden of Peace.

~*The Beginning*~


The Nightwalkers. A mere story meant to frighten children… correct? Lies, and you know it quite well. Why are you here, you ask? You have joined our ranks. Welcome to the Gathering. It will hit you soon enough what happened. Nightmares. That’s what you think happens to you every morning, why you dream so many odd dreams. Let me tell you the truth.


So, how did you die? Don’t look so surprised. Covering up your wound won’t do you any good. A stab wound? Poisoning? Or did you die quietly? In your sleep perhaps? A long-term wasting disease? That mark will never go away. It doesn’t heal. Stop thinking, ’I’ll just give it a few more days and then it will begin to heal.’ It’s a waste of your time, and mine too, since I'm the one that has to initiate you.


Get over it. You died, and you will again. And again. And again. Every morning, the pain of passing will afflict you like a curse, drag you back to the underworld. That’s right. That’s no nightmare. That’s the afterlife. How can that be? It’s not pretty, I know. There are monsters waiting to eat you at every turn, more pain than you can bear, torments beyond your wildest dreams. Well, if you don’t stick to the path that is. The Nocturnes will protect you, as long as you stay within the boundaries.


Ah yes, you shudder when I say that word. The Nocturnes. You saw one before you died, did you not? Perhaps outside your window? Or, it might have even been there right beside you. On your deathbed, some instinct from deep inside you urged you to reach out to it, call for help. You weren’t ready to die, and for some reason you thought it could save you. Let me tell you something. It did.


You’ve heard the legends of the first Nightwalker… Wait, you haven’t? How can that be? Well, let me take the time to inform you…

Once upon a time, the humans weren't at odds with the dragons of the night. They whispered their secrets in the ears of any humans that were willing to listen. It was said that you didn't have to fear death, because you knew what awaited you before it ever came. When your time finally arrived, there would be a Nocturne there at death's door to greet you and lead you to the final comfort. They say that this was a golden age. However, if this was ever true, that time is long gone.


The Guardians of the Underworld, half alive and half dead. During the night, they would stalk the earth for the dying, watch over them as they died and collect their souls once they had. During the day, when the first rays of light hit their body, they would return to their realm, the Underworld, and take the souls they had gathered with them. Once there, they would watch over them and protect them from danger. They would also try to lead them to Etolia, the Garden of Peace, the final resting place of a lucky few. Some refused to go, but that was their own folly. All of them eventually fell victim to the monsters that lurk in waiting.


However, as we all are aware of, imperfect humans exist. His name was Gregant, or at least that's what the stories say. He went to the Nocturnes, open and willing to hear their secrets, and they obliged. Once they were his, he bided his time, trying to find a way around what he knew was coming: death. There was too much in life for him to want to ever leave it.


Years passed, decades even. Finally, his day came. On his deathbed, the Nocturnes came as they did for everyone in those days. And he tricked them, used the knowledge they had gifted to him to avoid the price that fate places on every man. And so the first Nightwalker was born. His heart stopped, no breath stirred between his lips, and yet... his soul did not leave his body. He had become an abomination, a thing that never should have been.


Angered, the Nocturnes turned on Gregant, ripping at him. Not his body, since they were forbidden to harm a human physically. No, they went right for his soul, clawing at the now deformed thing until it ripped in two, one half still stubbornly clinging to Gregant's body, the other fleeing into the Underworld. And so Gregant learned to live in two worlds at once. A Nightwalker. Both dead and alive at once. After this incident, the Guardians of the Underworld fled into the mountains, no longer trusting humans with their secrets. Now, when you die, no Nocturne awaits to collect your soul. The journey to the Underworld must be made alone, the most miserable experience known to man. And all for the folly of one. At least the Guardians saw fit not to forsake us entirely. Once you make it to the Underworld, they will still protect you. However, if you wish to find Etolia, do not look to them for help. You must endeavor to find it on your own, or perish forever trying.


What? Why are you covering your ears? Heard enough, have you? Well, leave if you want, but there's no escaping it. You'll be back, since only I can provide the answers you seek.




Gregant, lost for centuries, has returned. Early on in the roleplay, he will be the only Nightwalker that was made through the first method hinted at from the legends. However, once things have become established, spots will slowly open up for more Nightwalkers of this make and design. Unlike the second kind, these Nightwalkers are made through choice. They decide to avoid death without the blessing of a Nocturne. Most would be considered "abominations." They do not breathe, and have no beating heart. Some exist in the Waking World at all times; however, if they come across a Nocturne at any time, their soul can be ripped in two and be stuck in the same situation as the second kind of Nightwalker.


Even though becoming this is a choice, that doesn't mean that all of these are evil either. Some people come to regret the choice they've made and attempt to make up for it, sometimes by doing the best they can to help others, sometimes by joining the ranks of the involuntarily-created Nightwalkers.


Unlike the other Nightwalkers, no matter how much time passes, their bodies never change. They look perpetually human. However, there's something about them that naturally repulses almost all living creatures. When around them, most will feel jumpy and uncomfortamble. Because of this, they have just as hard a time passing for a normal human as an involuntarily created Nightwalker.


Now that Gregant has returned, and still knows the secrets of the Nocturnes, he himself is whispering them to anyone who is willing to listen, hoping to create more Nightwalkers like him. And he is succeeding. As time goes on, more and more unnatural creatures are haunting the world. The Nocturnes sense the disturbance and are beginning to feel the drive to act, hoping to stop it before things are thrown irreversibly out of balance. What happens when that finally occurs? No one knows, but it's well worth preventing. The process has already begun. Occasionally portals will open between the Underworld and the Waking World and monsters and the occasional soul will slip through. On occasion, living people may even slip into the Underworld.


Where you fit into the whole puzzle is your decision entirely. You can chose to ignore it, or you can join forces with the Nocturnes to prevent the coming danger. If you want to live forever, you may even join Gregant's ranks and try to avoid death, no matter what the consequences may be. Just remember, there's no turning back.


I know this involves zombie-ish creatures, but I'm terrified of organs, so please avoid excessive gore. PM me your character applications/paragraphs please; don't post them here. I will send a reply with an acceptance or rejection. And yes, I will provide a character application, but you can do a paragraph as long as it provides all the pertinent information. I actually prefer paragraph intros. This RP happens in cycles, half the time spent in the Waking World and half in the Underworld. Keep that in mind when making a character. I'll let the Nightwalkers and Nocturnes know when it's time to return to the Underworld. Otherwise, if your character is based in only one, you can take advantage of the portals to slip between the two worlds. At the beginning of the roleplay, I would prefer most characters to be focused mainly on the Waking World though, and wait to develop Underworld plots later. If I'm ever to disappear, you CAN collectively restart the roleplay as long as you credit me for the original plot. You can even edit it as need be. HOWEVER, do NOT reuse any of my characters. And don't do it if I haven't disappeared. At least attempt to contact me. All DC Rules apply. If you make a Blessed, limit their power to one. Also, don't make it anything overpowering. Kudos to anyone who makes a Blessed with no powers too. Make as many characters as you want, as long as you can handle them all. Please give me at least one paragraph to reply to.~*Open Slots*~






Involuntary Nightwalkers:


Current Leader of the Gathering - OPEN




Voluntary Nightwalkers:


Gregant - Will be open for play at a future date








Guardians of the Underworld:


Leader of the Nocturnes - CLOSED! This will be a NPC that's used by me occasionally, but not often.






Be creative. These can be monsters from the Underworld, or perhaps deceased souls in the Underworld (which will be open for play once we have more Underworld plots). Or maybe something else entirely. Try me.




~*Character Sheet*~


Species: (AKA: Involuntary Nightwalker, Human, Nocturne, etc.)

Edited by Walker

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Username: Takhesis

Character: Celeste Halcyone had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the right time. The 22 year old factory worker was on her way to work, knowing that she was late, she failed to pay due attention to her surroundings. A horse-drawn delivery cart carrying replacement machinery parts suffered a mishap with one of its wheels. The result was a punctured lung. Celeste's last living thought was of her young children.

Of course, that was only 3 months ago. Celeste has joined the 'ranks' of the Nightwalkers, still she senses there's something wrong. The wound that killed her is still visible, but is often concealed under her blouse, however on occasion she still struggles to breathe, her mind hasn't quite grasped the fact that its no longer a requirement.

In life, Celeste was an attractive, but naive woman. Her long black hair and green eyes were a point of pride for her, and of jealousy on the part of some others. She always wore bright, cheerful colours.

Her kind and naive nature was too easy for some to abuse and thus she had children young (at 17 years old), twins no less, outside of wedlock. Her aunt took pity on her and the twins and now looks after them after Celeste's untimely accident.

In death, Celeste remains attractive, but her normally colourful clothes seem leeched and drained of some vibrancy. Her naiveity is no longer as prominant, she is a little more wary of others - her life experiance has taught her that at least.



Username: FlowerOwl

Name: Scarlet

Age: 11

Gender: Female

Species: Involuntary Nightwalker!

Bio: Shy and thoughtful. With a side of confusion and a aroma of sadness hangs in the air around her. Being that she has only been a Nightwalker for a couple of months.. Died in her sleep. (This stuff is the stuff I just added) In her previous life of not being a nightwalker she had a baby brother, little sister, and a mom and dad. She had it pretty good, always finished her chores; studied while getting good grades; lovely clothing; etc. Basically many of the things girls wanted. Then a platue went across her area, sending her grandparents to their graves. For her it was a bit to much to take when her family decided to move away. A couple nights later of traveling made her feel like her life was drained. Which that happened that night when she died.

Appearance: With a slight red blur coming into her pale blue eyes, she is your average dead kid. With sandy brown hair and skinny. Tall and long legged, small feet too.

Personality: Like I said: Shy and thoughtful, but also sad. Can be found laying around or doing a little bit of spying behind some bushes.

Other: Nothing, I guess...


Username: Yirta_Islanzadi

Name: Eldunari

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Species: Nocturne

Bio: Eldunari is considered just a hatchling. She is just beginning to feel the urges of collecting souls. She relies on the knowledge of her elders to show her the 'Waking World'. However with her young age she is still powerful. She proves just as intimidating opponent in the sky as she is on land. Her small-ish size makes her agility her best skill. Her limbs still need to be grown in to but she is fierce. Eldunari is cunning, and inquisitive. What she lacks is the knowledge of those who bore her. Her mixed quests of collecting souls and finding her parents make life confusing but she is determined to conquer both.

Appearance: Without light her scales are a dull grey-blue which makes her hard to spot in the night. However when there is light her scales take on a more iridescent look, and shine a more richer blue, but still have a grey quality. She stands at about 8 feet. Her horns are marked with s swirling pattern and they circle above her head. Her claws are marked with the same swirling pattern as her horns, but unlike her horns which are a creamy colour her nails are a very light blue. Her wings, when flat on her body hang well past her knees and appear as waves over her scales. Whereas when they are outstretched you can see every vein that courses through them live thousands of silver rivers. Her wingspan is about 18' at the current time. Her eyes , aside from her horns, are the thing she admires most. They are brighter then a ruby and shaped like diamonds. Faint hints of gold thread lacetheir way through her iris' which make her eyes all the more dazzling.

Personality: Eldunari is a very curious nocturne. She loves to investiget things but is also wary of her surroundings. She guards her emotions well as she is not about to be abandoned again. Once she trusts you though she can make bad days seem good and offers much encouragement. She stll acts a bit childish at times and lets her anger get the best of her, but that will pass with age.



Username: Walker

Name: Amun Khan

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Species: Involuntary Nightwalker

Bio: Amun was born in Enzai, a country that was made a colony of Viskra some thirty years ago. His father was a native Viskran, but his mother was pure Enzian. His father first journeyed to Enzai as an entrepreneur, planning to take advantage of the undeveloped country’s natural resources to help fuel the growing industrial revolution in Viskra. His venture successful, his father became rich and settled into the top echelons of Enzain society. Staying in Enzai to run his business, he eventually took a local Enzian as a wife and had several children, Amun being the second out of four and the first and only son.

Amun lived a privileged life in Enzai. However, when he turned twelve, his father insisted they send him to Viskra to get a “proper” education. When he arrived in the strange, alien country of his father, Amun quickly learned not everything in life was fair. Separated from his influential father, the people of Viskra looked down on him as a heathen since he took more after his mother than his father and had an Enzian accent, despite speaking the language of Viskra fluently because of his father. Even if he went to the top boarding schools, people saw him as only half human. Eventually learning to scorn human company, Amun retreated into his studies instead and surpassed what anyone had expected of him.

Because of his exemplary academic performance, he made it into one of the top Viskran universities, one of the first foreigners to do so. However, the discrimination tailed him. Studying to be a doctor, he was only a year or so from graduation when he finally found a group of friends who he thought accepted him. Little did they know, they were only drawing him in. After several weeks, the group invited him to go out to a tavern for a night and he readily agreed, never having had the chance to experience a night of drunken festivities. However, when they finally arrived at the tavern, the group instead ganged up on him and dragged him into a back alley. They’d only meant to rough him up a bit, but the beating proved fatal, and Amun died after a particularly hard kick to the ribs.

Three years later, Amun has dropped out of school and joined the Gathering. He sent a letter home, making his parents assume he was dead. There’s no chance he can ever go back, since many of the locals still believe in Nightwalkers and fear them greatly. He makes a meager income as a musician, performing in bawdy taverns that come alive during the night. While he strums his harp, he keeps an eye out for any shady looking figures that enter, hoping to spot others like him and recruit them to the Gathering too.

Appearance: Amun looks more like an Enzian than a Viskran. He has the coarse, brown wavy hair of his mother’s people, and the deep, brown eyes. Along with this, his skin is tanned instead of white. Some of his features hint at his Viskran accent. His features are more chiseled than most people of pure Enzian ancestry, and he’s much shorter than them too at only 5’4”. Over the past year or so, he’s started to look scruffier. He has a few articles of clothing that hint at his previous wealth, but they’re worn and dirtied now. Along with that, he also has an impressive beard, not wanting to risk cutting himself shaving since it will never heal and also hoping it will obscure his Enzian-looking face. Because of the beating he took before his death, he does have a black eye that never fades, but he can hide most of his injuries under clothes.

Personality: Amun is incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, having had the best schooling that money can buy and the patience to devote to his studies. A man of passion, he is driven to work long and hard at what he loves: music and learning. However, the discrimination that he’s faced has also made him bitter and hateful towards almost anything else. He has a tendency to look down his nose at anything he considers uneducated and unrefined, and recently that has included himself, seeing the state he has degraded into. However, if someone can earn his passion, they will earn his heart. Despite his pride, he is a hard worker and is a fair hand at keeping his disdain hidden.

Other: He’s not anyone of note in the Gathering and has been a Nightwalker for three years.



Username: Walker

Name: Lifaen

Age: 213

Gender: Female

Species: Nocturne

Bio: Lifaen is one of the younger adult females. She has raised one hatchling but has no plans to lay another egg soon. Instead, she has turned her attentions to criticizing the leaders of her race and doing anything at all she possibly can to make their existence more difficult. Not yet powerful or influential enough among her kind to organize any actual change, she vents her frustrations through causing small annoyances. They haven’t been bad enough for her to be severely punished yet, but as time goes on, she flies an even more dangerous path.

There’s little of note about her hatching. She was raised as most of her kind were, with no real tragedy to speak of her. Her parents, however, were overly strict about following the rules of the elders, and because of this Lifaen never really got the chance to spread her wings as a child. As she matured, the pent-up frustrations of her childhood exploded and she turned out to be a thorn in the side of all the elder Nocturnes. She often ventures out of the mountains, much to the consternation of those around her. Even more daring, she’s known to venture out into the wilds of the Underworld just for fun. On more than one occasion, she has come back greviously injured, but that doesn’t seem to deter her.

Appearance: Lifaen is very intimidating. At 14’, she’s oddly large for a female of her age. There’s still a chance she could grow even more. One of her horns was snapped off during a battle with an Underworld monster and her hide is covered an impressive amount of scars. Not the prettiest of Nocturnes, she’s a muddy brown color. However, that does help her blend in with her surroundings fairly well, which is more than the blue Nocturnes can say.

Personality: Lifaen feels the urges of her race even more strongly than most. Back before they were ordered to stop gathering human souls, that would have been a blessing, but now it is a curse. She has to fight even more than the rest to resist it. Much of her need to rebel stems from this. Supremely confident in herself, she believes that everyone else around her is wrong for following the elders and remaining holed up in the mountains. She hopes to convince the others to join her and overthrow the old order and establish a new one, but for now she bides her time. She doesn’t have the backing or the power to do as she wishes, so instead she vents her frustrations in small ways.

Other: Nothing for now~


Username: Xarria

Name: Nyx

Age: uh, 20 dog years (read what i am)

Gender: female

Species: Other: Hellhound

Bio: Was a german shepard, but then died and now is a hellhound. She is originally from Tumac, but now is, of course, in the Underworld. There's nothing much to it but that. Oh, but if you want to know how she died, she was killed by trying to protect her owner from a robber who had attacked them.

Appearance: A full black german shepard with glowing red eyes and paws that glow like fire, although they don't hurt the dead.

Personality: Very protective and aggresive, although friendly if you introduce yourself (which doesn't happen often, cause they run away screaming)

Other: Don't scream if you're trying to get away from her, it just gets her mad.


Username: gistofeverything

Name: Thage Belfour

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Species: Blessed

"Power": Traveling to the Underworld via her dreams.

Bio: Thage doesn't remember her birth mother. Her father has said that she died in a horrible accident, and Thage believes him. Thage has not an inkling of memory of her early childhood, save for the facts of the horrible nightmares she had as a child. It had gotten so bad that her father had taken Thage to a priestess to have her abilities muffled, despite criticism from his peers. Being born to an unholy mix of blood, Thage was born with a power, and her father knew about this. In his fit of protection, though, she was never informed of her capabilities, and as such, she continued to suffer every night in her dreams... The only thing that can remember from her childhood is glimpsing a blue creature. She was mesmerized by it, and she always wishes to find it again. This search up to now has been uneventful, though.

Appearance: Thage is a small girl with pallored skin. Not receiving rays from the sun, all of the color has been bleached out of her, save for the occasional blush now and then. She always wears dark clothing, most of which is lavish and self-embroidered. Her shoes are embedded with the gems she has collected over the years in her time in Tumac. She carries a parasol into the bright sunlight if she has to ever go outside, just in case she might become hot.

Personality: A bookish girl, Thage does not have many friends. Having trouble communicating her thoughts to the outside world, she has been considered "dumb" by the general public. The only way that she may truly express herself is the music she makes with her rosewood violin that her father had given to her not long after she was born. She has since treasured the instrument, and always makes sure that she is apt in its virtuosity. She can truly speak clearly with other enthusiasts, since they seem to have their own language anyhow.

Other: Thage cannot remember anything from her encounters in the Underworld until the seal is broken.


Username: Takehsis

Character: Cethlenn, an old forgotten spirit that wanders the Underworld. Her appearance is wraith-like, with long snow-white hair, a grey tattered gown. Her fingers end with claw-like nails. Most of the time, her insanity caused by the wilderness provokes her to attack without cause. If, however, her true name is used (ironically its her name, which she has forgotten over time, as have most mortals) - her sanity can return - for only a short time, long enough for running away.

Being such an ancient spirit, Cethlenn has accumulated a lot of knowledge of the Underworld and will, if sane, answer no more than 3 questions that she is asked. Her answers, however, may not always make sense to the questioner at the time of being given.

As a side note her insanity may not just be due to the wilderness, but a lack of purpose. As belief waned, her purpose for her existance also faded. Perhaps a new purpose could be found that would cure her entirely...


Username: Shur'turgal

Name: Grimrr

Age: 199

Gender: Male

Species: Werecat Abomination

Bio: Grimrr was once king of a mighty race. He had a lovely wife, as beautiful in animal form as in human form, and fought many battles. In a tragic battle between the wercats and the Ouvela ( a demon race) Grimrr had taken 5 spears to the body, which had gone right through. In death he had somehow remained alive, and found the underworld. After the war he had found out that his species had died, yet none had been saved as he had. He lives in the deepest wilderness' of the underworld, but is venturing out more and more, as he senses something is amiss.

Appearance: Grimrr is large, not as big as the mighty lions that rule the woods outside of a mountain he remembers, but perhaps around the same size as a lion in the 'waking world' (his withers are about 3.5'). He resembles a lynx, however the tufts of hair on his ears are about 6 inches long and manage to stand straight up.Though, one ear looks as it a chunk of it has been bitten off. In death he was soaked with blood as he is now. He is a dark crimson in colour in and around his wounds, but where he is not red he is a deep blue, darker than any sky. His colourng gives him the look of blotchy stripes, that allow him to hde easily in the depths of the underworld.His eyes are a striking green-yellow and his pupils are constantly slits of black. Each eye has four scratches surrounding it, a sign of his once great power. His claws are bigger than most werecats and are dyed a light pink from battle. In human form Grimrr is about 4' tall. He has light sandy brown hair that resembles his former colouring and always looks tussled. His eyebrows are thick, but they do not cover his eyes which are still a green-yellow, or his eye scars. He is lanky with hidden muscle but his hands are large, about the size of a man's even though he appears to be a child.

Personality: Due to his former life Grimmr is cautious but fierce. He is great in battle and can travel very fast. He is very confident in himself, but feels a constant pang of loneliness and abandonment. He doesn't trust easy, but will not treat people with disdain. However, you are likely not to know how he feels as he keeps it hidden, as to not get his heart and soul torn away from him again.

Other: He often enters the city to investigate, and enjoys helping defend the gates, although unseen.


Username: Mousia

Name: Sirin

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Species: Labyrinthian

Species Description: Labyrinthians often appear to look like humans, though they occasionally develop deformities overtime or simply from experiences that they have little to no control over. They see all the secrets to the purpose of life and occasionally spurt out prophecies in the voice of Father or Mother (depending on their gender), the first Labyrinthians. They can see what others cannot and act as oracles or prophets. Many of these creatures lead normal lives in the Waking World. They do not have split souls but can sometimes travel in between the Underworld and the Waking World through recently-discovered portals amidst Nocturnes and Nightwalkers, though they were originally born in the Underworld as monsters. They didn't exactly 'fit the bill' as monsters so they were allowed into Lyambo because they didn't pose a treat and were occasionally helpful to the Nocturnes. The one vice of this species is that even though the plead for the acceptance of others, they are often social outcasts because of their oddness and are viewed as insane by many. They get very tired when they use their powers, though and if they use their powers too many times in a certain time period (average ratio: 5 uses/24 hours, some have extraordinary strength and have this ratio: 6 uses/24 hours) then they go into a deep sleep or what appears to be a coma that lasts for only 24 hours. Labyrinthians usually have dark circles under their eyes and when they are born, they have eyes as black as coals but as they age their eyes get pale with knowledge that only a certain few believe to be true. The rate varies in individuals, but it is usually a slow revelation, so their eyes palen slowly. In a select few, they have a much faster rate and their eyes palen to a dark blue in about 10 years and they have white eyes at about 35, but with this comes blindness. Labyrinthians can be purebred, which means they are born into their species, or they can be turned. Turning a human is a very strikingly simple process. The human must go into the Labyrinthian's dwelling willingly, and the Labyrinthian must utter a long and old spell that blesses the human into the life of a Labyrinthian. There is a mere 1% survival rate, so encountering this type of Labyrinthian is so rare that they have been practically forgotten and the spell has faded into the past. Labyrinthians are semi-immortal (they may be killed, but they don't die of old age)

Bio: She grew up as an average human until BANG some old guy turned her into something called a Labyrinthian at the age of 12. She didn't ask for it, nor did she want it, but it happened. Ever since she wandered into that cave, she has never liked caves, fearing the things that lurk inside. She isn't too fond of strangers either, but when she hears Mother's voice in her head telling her about something of intrest, she follows Mother's directions willingly and patiently accepts rejection but never ceases to take intrest in it. In her 10 years of being a Labyrinthian, she has adapted well to all that it entails.

Appearance: She has waist-long, straight black hair and bark, blue-grey eyes. Her pale skin has nearly no blemishes, that she shows, anyway. She has many scars on her back and arms from her struggle from the man when he was trying to turn her. Sirin wears dresses of slightly varying colors (shades of red, blue and grey) that drag on the ground which makes the bottom hems brown with dirt. She wears black leather, lace-up boots under her dress. A corset, standard for a young lady, such as herself, makes her waist very slim, a mere 14 inches (the maximun for that time period would be 18 inches). Her hair is usually worn down, much to the dismay of many of her fellow citizens.

Personality: She is a rebel in many ways, but she also faces some self-consciousness which makes her have the urge to blend in, at least a little bit. She is concerned because she knows of now other Labyrinthians in Viskra, which is where she resides, so she attempts to hide her 'situation'.

Other: N/A right now

Edited by Walker

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Brief Synopsis


In this world, there is an "evil" individual named Gregant who is trying to find a way to avoid death, and will drag anyone else willing along with him. Gregant found a way, but it creates an unnatural zombie-like creature called a Nightwalker. The more of these he makes, the more pressure is put on the boundaries between life and death. Too much pressure leads to massive destruction.


Nocturnes, who serve as Guardians of the Underworld, sense the disturbance and seek to stop it. You can join in as one of several races, or you can try to avoid dying all together and join Gregant. Nightwalkers and Nocturnes can travel between the Underworld and earth, so the roleplay takes place in both worlds.


For more details/specifics, refer to the complete plot.

Edited by Walker

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The walls will tremble and shake

Until the stones crumble and break

And then the monsters will invade

And not a single soul will be saved

All because we were forsaken

By the Guardians, because we were mistaken.

Before this comes, stop this hopeless descent.

There’s still time to stop this terrible event.


The string snapped under Amun’s claw with a loud, discordant twang. A sigh of frustration escaped him; setting his harp aside for the moment, he stood up and stretched. He was always stiff after he woke up for the night; was that because of lack of movement or because his body locked up and stiffened during the day, like a normal dead body? The question nipped at his mind like a territorial dog. Always curious, Amun often wondered about odd things. Well, since the… incident, he’d certainly had enough to keep his mind busy.


“That composition of yours needs some work,” his roommate called from across the room.


His roommate was still stretched out on his pallet, not having risen for the night. Amun huffed and rolled his eyes. Lazy. How had he ever been paired off with him in a room? And what did he know about music if he couldn’t even get off his butt to do an honest day’s labor? What had the Nocturne who saved that one been thinking? “Better than you could ever write,” he muttered under his breath. After having roomed with him nearly a year, Amun no longer bothered hiding his disdain for the man under niceties.


“Shut up. I never said I could. If I could play as pretty as you, maybe I wouldn’t be stuck working in no factory. You’d be as drained as I was if you worked in one of those you priss,” his roommate snapped back at him


Amun knew his roommate wouldn’t be working there much longer. At a year old, he wasn’t far from his first transformation. One of these days, he’d wake up with red eyes, and then he’d have to find a new course of work… Or pretend to be blind and cover his eyes with a rag. Not wanting to spend any more time here than he had to around his roommate, Amun walked over to a trunk in the corner of his tiny apartment and pulled out a pair of gloves.


He pulled them onto his hands, looking at his fingers with a frown. They looked diseased, bulging oddly under the gloves because of his claws. Even though he filed them down regularly, it was impossible to make them look like normal fingers. However, it was enough. After that, he drew out a pair of tinted glasses, sliding them on his face to hide his red eyes. He was lucky to own these, expensive to put it lightly. They’d been in fashion a few years ago among the nobility, but had since fallen out of favor. But they hid his eyes and that was all that mattered. People like his roommate could never afford them, too poor, but he had bought them before he died. They clashed oddly with his worn clothes, but there was nothing he could do about it.


Finally, he grabbed his harp and stomped out the door. He’d have to stop at a vendor on his way to the tavern to buy a new harp string…. What a waste of money…. However, he had to care for his livelihood.




Lifaen sat at the edge of the cliff, her wings spread. She longed to fly away from here, to the humans. The night was just beginning, the sun having finally fled the sky just minutes ago. Her kind should just be heading out into the skies to collect souls; her instincts pushed her to ignore the laws and do as her ancestors had done. Ancient memories, passed down through generations, flooded her mind. Even though she’d never had the opportunity to harvest a soul herself, she still remembered how to do so because of those who’d gone before her….


’Lifaen!’ a voice snapped in her head, one of the elders. She turned her head to spot him, sitting at the mouth of a cave and watching her with disdainful red eyes. She huffed in annoyance, a white plume erupting from her nostril because of the chill air at this high altitude. Her body quivered with pent-up energy, wanting to ignore the elder and fly off instead.


However, her work needed done. With a disdainful flick of her tail, she got to her feet and folded her wings against her side. Just to spite the elder, she’d take as long as she could collecting vegetation from the foot of the mountain. As much as she hated walking that far, it was slower than flying and worth making the elder scowl. Bouncing like a mountain goat, she made her way down the side of the mountain, meandering as she went and occasionally pausing to investigate something odd that caught her eye.

Edited by Walker

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As Eldunari climbed out of the shallow pool she had been resting in, she shook herself, and sent thousands of tiny droplets of water flying. She trudged up the hill using her talons as leverage, wondering what she would do now. She sat at the top of the hill and began to groom her claws and scales. Making herself look even more dazzling to those around her was a favourite pass time of hers. She shivered with the night's cool touch, and examined every shadow for prey or danger.


Seeing nothing of interest she continued to saunter toward the base of the mountain, in which lay her home. She was bored, she was always bored. The elders said her young age and frivolous nature were too inadequate for her to be given even a meager job. She spent her days and nights, looking at the sky, taking short flights and doing whatever else seemed to please her. Some days she felt a pull, a pull she knew would lead her right to the humans, if she allowed it. However, she had been told not to follow that urge, that it was improper, and that she was too young to understand the way of the worlds.


But, she understood her own world quite well. She knew how to hunt, fly and battle, but she felt as if no one recognized her talents. Tracking was something she was good at, and she spotted a tussled branch that was surely the sign of a deer, even before her nose caught their musky scent. Hunching low to the ground she began to creep through the forest, extending her neck at times to get a better scent. Finally she came across a herd of dear grazing casually, completely oblivious to her. Before any of them could react she spread her wings. She beat her wings twice, fast, and in an instant she was on top of her prey. She took down the large buck of the herd and clamped his head in her jaws. With a soft crunch she broke the base of his skull and top of his spine. As the other deer galloped away, silently mourning their loss, she tore the antlers from the great bucks head, stuck his body in her maw and continued on.


She longed for a better fight, one with someone bigger and more experienced than her, just so she could show someone what she was capable of. She knew, though, that the fact she was bringing some food to the mountain would make the others happy. Eldunari quickened her pace, longing to enjoy her meal and waste the rest of her night.

Edited by Shur'turgal

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When Lifaen finally reached the base of the mountain, she reluctantly began to pluck at the sparse vegetation, creating a pile of plants she would bring back to the cave later. They had a variety of uses. Mostly as food, but some of the scarcer plants could be used as medicine. The rarest of the rare were used in ritual practices, but she didn't expect to come across any of those today, not during this season. Summer was just beginning to fade into fall and most of the plants had died off. The hard seasons were coming. For now, there was still food to be had, but not much.


As she worked, a scent suddenly reached her nostrils. Her lips curled back, revealing her teeth, and she crouched low. The scent of blood; it would have been appealing if she was hungry enough, but for now she was satisfied. Flaring her wings, her protective instincts began to kick in. Just as when the monsters attacked the gates, whatever had killed the animal might present a threat to her or the others. There were large lions that lived here, and even though she didn't like to, she killed them when she came across them. They posed a risk to the hatchlings and the smaller adults; they'd lost more than one hatchling over the years to mountain lions.


Tucking her wings back against her side, she sniffed the air and considered again. The scent was strong, which meant it didn't come from far away. It was best to not make a scene and lay low for now. She slowly inched her way towards the source of the smell, moving as silently as a bird of prey. When she reached the cover of a copse of pine trees, she poked her head out briefly to survey the situation. Her body relaxed when she saw it was just another of her kind, considerably less dangerous than she had feared.


Stepping out of the trees, she flicked her tail and considered the other dragon. Smaller than her, obviously younger, with brilliant blue scales. Flaring her wings again, she roared and showed her teeth, a mere display to give the other one a bit of a fright. By right of her age and size, she had the advantage and superior standing over the other dragon, and she wasn't afraid to flaunt it. The ones that feared her were the ones that were more likely to respect and follow her in the future.

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Celeste woke up as the moon rose from behind the horizon. She rose awkwardly from her pallet of bracken and leaves, that served as her bed. Celeste had no real home to go to.. not since the day she died. Her hand subconciously crept to where the metal parts had peirced her lung. As always, when she thought about that day, her breath caught and she laboured to breathe.


Of course, lack of breathing wasn't as fatal now as would have been. Celeste rolled her neck to loosen up the still sleep-touched muscles, while forcing her mind to accept that she no longer needed the simple action of taking in air to maintain her existance.


Leaving the relative safety of the woodland den she used to hide in during the daylight hours, Celeste followed an old wildlife trail back towards the town that was once her home. She knew, or at least hoped that, noone came near her den due to the wild animals that were said to live there.


She remained out of sight of the old walls that protected the town, but there were some places that lay outside of them. New buildings that were built as homes for the influx of workers that were needed for the factories. Celeste quietly approached one of these homes, and gazed up at the windows, behind which she knew her young twins slept. She hoped that their nightmares wouldn't come tonight - it wrenched at her heart to hear them cry and know that she could no longer comfort them. Oh she had tried once before, a couple of days after her death, but their reaction to her was such that she knew they could sense what she could not understand.


Somehow, the ability to live after death had turned her into a monster. Celeste felt as if there was something missing every time she awoke, but couldn't place what. Every night, she came back here and every night she promised herself it would be the last time. Of course, she had often remained here so long that she had to flee the sunrise so that her body wouldn't be found.


Speaking softly to whatever deity/being that would listen,

"Please, look after my little ones, keep them safe from the world's horrors for as long as you can." A tear crept to her eye, knowing that what she was asking for was impossible. Celeste turned away from the building, her mind telling her that it was time to move on, although her heart wished the opposite. If anyone suspected that there was an undead abomination residing near, her unlife would be forfeit. She had already spent too long in one area, it was no longer safe to remain.

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As the last few trees began to thin around Eldunari, she heard something slithering at the other edge of the clearing. Whatever was slithering it was no small snake, it was something big, very big. She proceeded with caution, but knowing there were probably other dragons around, retained an air of confidence. She tried to smell the air to gather some information about what she was approaching, but the smell of blood proved too thick, and it filled her nostrils. She emerged from the clearing, and after a moment ,with a rush of flailing leaves, so did another dragon. It was a brown colour but still dazzling and it emitted a sense of pride that left her feeling conquered. The other dragon was a good five or so feet taller than her. When it spread its mighty wings, it seemed as if the tips scraped either side of the clearing. She noticed that the dragon bared it's teeth, thinking it had authority over her.


Eldunari kept her meal clenched in her jaws, making sure the other dragon would not snatch it, and spread her own wings. As she did it she could hear the sound of her leathery wings unfold, what a joyous sound it was. She lifted her lip in her own sort of bloody snarl and allowed a plume of smoke rise from within her and travel around the deer. She also allowed herself a bit of a growl, deep in her chest. As she did so she rose on her hind legs, not trying to intimidate the other dragon with size, but trying to show that she too was confident in herself and would not be treated like a child.


She swung her paws back to the ground with a loud thud that shook the earth she stood on and ,she hoped, the ground the other dragon stood on. She kept her wings unfurled, in anticipation of the other dragon's next move.

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Scarlet had been sitting on a rock, from behind some bushes she had been spying on Eldunari. She was focusing on the two's features and how they could use them. Glancing behind herself every time nothing seemed to be happening. She was slightly worried of Eldunari getting hurt, but never the less, she didn't expect too much damage would be inflected.


But then, of course, she could always be wrong. Glancing back again, she grinned at the sight of no creatures and returned her gaze to the fight. Scarlet guessed it would take a while for the fight to end so she got into a comfrontable position. Wishing for a closer look, Scarlet crawled off the rock and into the bushes. She pulled some of it's thorns away to avoid scratches and pulled off some leaves to make an eye hole. Then Scarlet went into the position she had been on the rock and started to wait for the next move.

Edited by FlowerOwl

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Amun wandered deeper into the residential district, not his usual haunt but the stores down in the slums didn't sell harp strings, mainly because there weren't many factory workers with the time or leisure to pursue music. The deeper he wandered in, the more he looked out of place. He made sure not to dawdle or one of the homeowners nearby might find a policeman. They could and would arrest him for looking suspicious, and he hated to think what that would lead to. Most Nightwalkers who were arrested were found "dead" in the morning, or asleep to be more like it, and were either buried or burned before the next nightfall came. The ones that were buried were lucky. It might take a while to dig themselves out, but at least they lived to see another night.


As he made his way towards the stores, he noticed a young woman standing on the side of the street. Even from here, he could hear her sniffling and muttering to herself. He frowned and shook his head, wondering if she was insane. There were plenty of crazies wandering the streets, talking to the phantoms only they could see. He had no pity for them; at least they didn't have to face the reality of a life like his: dead but not dead. Going slowly insane and dying in the streets sometimes sounded preferable to him.


He walked in front of the woman, giving her a wide berth. However, he couldn't completely contain his curiosity. He pulled his glasses down to the bridge of his nose for a moment, since they obscured his vision, and glanced at her. If anyone was looking, they would have noticed the brief flash of his red eyes as he looked. Pretty perhaps, but no reason for him to stop. He pushed his glasses back up and continued to walk, singing a song of his own creation under his breath, a haunting song about living death.




Lifaen paused for a moment, surprised by the fire. She couldn't breathe it, but some of them could. Magic coursed through their bodies, an important part of who they were. A fair number of individuals could do that, and other abilities too. It wasn't enough to deter her though, since she knew the flames would lick over her scales harmlessly if the other one tried to harm her. However, such abilities did come in handy when defending the gates. Even though Nocturnes weren't flammable didn't mean some of the monsters of the underworld weren't.


She was moments from reaching out to snap the hind end of the deer and tear it from the mouth of the youngling, since she obviously wasn't intimidated enough by her presence. She would teach her to respect those who were superior to her in both strength and experience.... However, she was distracted by a flicker of movement in the bushes out of the corner of her eye.


She swung her head around and roared at the intruder, forgetting her little display for the moment. 'On guard!' she called to the other. They could finish their tests of strength later. When there was danger present, it was time to do as their names hinted: guard. She lowered her head and sniffed the bushes, trying to pick up a good scent despite the overwhelming stench of blood. Her breath made the leaves of the bush quiver.... Certainly something there, just time to wait for it to reveal itself.

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Wrapped up in her own thoughts, Celeste barely noticed the figure that walked past her. A flash of red in the corner of her eye made her recoil slightly - a hidden memory of her death crept into her thoughts; an image of a draconic face with red eyes, seen only from the corner of her fading vision as she died.


A faint haunting melody reached her ears, the words indistinct yet they seemed to call to her. A partial frown crossed her face as she tried to understand the words, yet due to their very nature they escaped her grasp.


"You have a talent for music that lingers in one's mind." She spoke, once she realised that the one that past her was the one singing, if softly and not really wanting others to hear the song.

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For only a moment did the other dragon look a bit startled, a time she knew she could use to attack if need be, but that moment passed quick enough. The dragon was probably surprised at her display of her inner flame, however, the other dragon obviously knew that the flame itself could not hurt her as it more knowledgeable than she.


Shielding her thoughts, she asked herself ' I wonder if we are also protected from the unbearable heat of the flame..'


The other dragon glanced toward a bush and Eldunari guessed it had seen the same shuffle of branches she had. Then a strong, regal voice resonated throughout her mind saying 'On Guard' as the other dragon roared at the bushes and then went to smell them. Noticing that the scent of the deer was clotting the air she jerked her head up, briefly tossing the deer into the air , and then caught it with her jaws. At this point she crunched the bones and flesh only once and then let the mashed deer slide down her gullet. The scent of blood was less potent now, but instead of sticking her face right into the bushes and possible danger as the other dragon was doing she opted for listening with her keen ears and searching with her keen eyes.


After a moment Eldunari glimpsed , through the shaking leaves, a flash of something, a hand? A paw? A dry leaf? at that instant she crept forward a little more and began to use her nose. As the tip of her wing brushed the other dragon's hind leg she wondered if it had seen anything.

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Amun paused suddenly, rooted to the path. His instinct urged him on, to ignore the odd compliment and keep on walking. Staying in any one place was never good; he couldn't afford to draw attention to himself. However.... he glanced over his shoulder and smiled slightly. It wasn't often that the locals complimented him; mostly they insulted when they saw he was a foreigner. The ridicule had only increased now that he'd become something only slightly above a beggar. Because of his vanity he couldn't help but bask in the kind words, even if they came from a woman who might be off her rocker.


"Why thank you madam," he offered with a gracious flourish. His accent had dimmed because of all the years he'd spent here, but it was still there, no escaping it. If she hadn't noticed he was a foreigner by now, she would after she heard it. He hoped that his odd politeness, so unfitting for a seeming vagabond like him would be enough to cancel out any disdain she might feel though.


"If you want to hear more, I play at the Green Walnut on Liverwerst Lane nightly," he added. If he could draw in another customer, all the better for him. The better the tavern owner got paid, the more gracious he was to his entertainer. Every penny in his pocket counted these days. But he did miss the days when a penny meant nothing.

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"I would love to hear more." Celeste replied, "Unfortunately, I cannot enter the Green Walnut as I used to, too many of my ...former factory co-workers attend there." Her voice was hesitant as she really did not want to go into too much detail as to the nature of reasons behind it.


She hoped that the figure wouldn't ask too many questions as she was sure that death hadn't changed her ability to lie. She was never a good liar, and she doubted that would have changed.


On closer inspection, one may notice that her blouse was slightly bloodstained on one side. Also it appeared that the blouse itself had been repaired to a reasonable standard, but it still looked like it had been damaged in some way - perhaps by something that tore into it at some force.

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Nyx was just wandering through Lyambo's outside gate, for she had no reason to be in there right at that moment. Because of the timezones, Nightwalkers were entering around a few per minute. She watched them enter, although none noticed her. "Hmph, why should they? They're only here for the daytime, why should they get to know their surroundings?" she said sarcasticly. Although, every second a new spirit would appear. The ordinary spirits never ceased, so she had seen quite a bit of them in one minute. "73, 74...75...76,77,78. Alright, one minute over, startin again. 1, 2...3..." that is what she did mainly, sat at the gate watching the spirits go in. She'd greet the Nightwalkers, but they wouldn't respond.

Edited by Xarria

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Scarlet's instinct kicked in. Which, in this case, was bad for her. Since she automatically started scurrying back. Bumping into leaves in the process made the leaves to sway. Plus, it also caused some rustling sounds.


"Ow!" Scarlet yelped as she backed into some thorns, making everyone's attention draw to the bush she was in even more. She continued backwards but decided to bite her lip. Now would be a good time to escape, Scarlet thought. Hitting her head against the rock which she had been sitting on earlier. A small grin came up to her face as she turned around to run onto the rock and out of here.

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Lifaen flared her wings in surprise and reared onto her back legs, unsure what to think of the creature. She could just tell by sight it was human; instinct told her as such. However, there was something different about it, very different. It smelled like them too, as if it had been living in their caves along with them. But she knew for certain it hadn't. One of the others would have noticed, without a doubt. Coming back down to the earth with a crash, she quickly jumped over the rock and landed on the other side, cutting off her avenue of escape.


'What are you? And are you okay?' she asked, letting the human hear her telepathic voice also. Despite being rough around the edges compared to most Nocturnes, she couldn't deny her instincts. The voice was calm and friendly, not wanting to scare the human away. Even if it smelled odd, it was still something she was designed to protect.


She tucked her wings against her side and thought deeply. Why would a human smell like them? She'd seen humans over the years, although not many because of the elders' ridiculous orders, but enough to know their distinct scent. As she searched through her memory, only one thing came to mind. When she was young, she'd overheard her parents heatedly discussing a taboo magic used by some of the Nocturnes used on humans. At the time she'd thought it was lies, since interaction with humans was now limited, but perhaps there was something to it....




Amun considered the woman, wondering why she had to avoid her fellow workers. Had she stolen from them? Well, it wasn't unheard of. His nose crinkled a little at the thought though. He hoped he'd never have to fall to such depths just to survive. His living now was difficult, but at least it was honest. An honest day's labor was better than the easy way any day. He'd rather work in the factories than steal, and that was saying something. "I'm sorry to hear that, madam," he said with a frown.



Well, even if she was a potential criminal, business was business. As long as she paid the tavern owner... She didn't look like a criminal, but perhaps that was what she had going for her. "If you ever need a musician for a gathering though, just ask around in the slums for Amun. They'll point you in the right direction," he commented. Most of the people in the slums knew him, if only because he was the eccentric musician foreigner. He was kind of hard to miss, no matter how he tried to blend in.


It was then that he noticed the blood on her blouse. He frowned slightly and looked her up and down, considering. "On second thought, you may need a doctor more," he added. "I have the training, believe it or not." Most people didn't believe him, but he knew his way around the craft, having dropped out only a few months away from graduation. He still diligently studied when he could too; although that was not often. "I'm not as expensive as the licensed ones," he added, in case she was worried about money. Most people were these days. Factory work didn't pay well.

Edited by Walker

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Nyx was getting sleepy, for counting ghosts was like counting sheep. "125...126,127...128...129. Alright, new record and new minu..." she fell asleep, still sitting but head down. She dreamed of her life before being a hellhound. Her owner had been so nice to her, he had always snuck her treats from his partner. He had even sat there for hours scratching behind my ears, my neck, and back. But then it all vanished that day. A tear slid down her cheek while she slept.

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"I'm not sure whether your craft would help much, kind sir." Celeste replied with a half-smile, "Unless one knows how to repair a punctured lung." Celeste's eyes grew slightly as she realised what she may have given away with that piece of information.


Realising that, she may as well tell the rest of her tale and risk the obvious fate that accompanied it. Or at least hope that she was thought insane. "You see, my coworkers witnessed what happened a few months ago. A cart, carrying replacement parts, suffered a mishap with the wheels just outside the factory. The next thing I know, one of the parts had been embedded in my lung... I think I must have died that day. Last thing I truely remember is worry, of how my children would survive without me that and a passing glimpse of a draconic face with red eyes."





Somewhere on the endless grey plane that was the wildnerness of the Underworld, a wraith-like being drifted. This being was known as Cethlenn, even though that name had long been forgotten on the surface world. Endlessly wandering the grey wastes and being forgotten by mortals had taken its toll on Cethlenn. Once a being of sound mind and of some power in the past, now just a shadow of her former self. Insanity had set in, her power scattered to the winds leaving nothing behind except a demented soul.

Edited by Takhesis

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Amun shuddered a bit at the mention of the red eyes. It brought back a lot of memories for him, from his death to anytime he looked at his reflection. To most, her admission would sound like crazy talk, but he knew all too well what she was talking about. Glancing around suddenly, he gestured for her to follow. "Come with me and let me see this wound of yours," he ordered gruffly.


She'd just said that in the middle of the street. Who knew who was listening. If the wrong people overheard, it could be catastrophic. What if she was one of the people who shouldn't overhear? For all he knew, this could all be a ruse, an attempt to infiltrate the Gathering and pull them apart from the inside out by one of the crazed humans who pursued them like they were prize hunting trophies.


He walked into a nearby alleyway and waited for her to follow. If he was going to say anything more, she'd have to prove she was dead. It took more than the bloodstains on her shirt, which could easily be planted there. Since she appeared to be too new of a Nightwalker to have any of the other physical signs, than he'd have to see the wound with his own eyes before he even began to think of trusting this stranger.

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Celeste cautiously followed Amun into the side alley. At least he seemed to believe her words. Even though the last time she trusted too easily ended rather badly. She breifly thought of the moment her parents had found out she was pregnant out of wedlock. At 17, she wasn't really young to have children, but to have them while still unmarried...


She leaned against one of the walls, while parting her blouse sufficiently to reveal the wound left. The wound was open, and one could tell it was a deep wound. It showed some sign of having once been sealed...possibly just before her burial to make the body somewhat presentable, but was a badly done job and her movements since had broken the seal.


Not to go into too much detail, the white of one of her rib bones could just be seen on the lower edge of the wound, even though it did seem to move as Celeste still took subconcious breaths. The lung tissue was not in good condition and one could still see the damage done by the accident.

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Xarria woke up to three hellhounds around her, playing. She cocked her head to the side, and they noticed her. Their faces got an excited look and they started barking and yipping and tugging on her tail, erging her to play with them. She looked the hellhounds over; one was a full black saint bernard, one was a pug, and one was a rottweiller. She sighed, it was unavoidable. She bent down, her legs full spread but her legs down as if she was laying down. That got the hellhounds going crazy. One of them, the rotti, bounded on me and we started playfighting.

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Eldunari was extremely startled, as she had been concentrating on the bushes, when the large dragon reared up. She was so surprised that she quickly let her wings loose and flapped to gain altitude. From above, she watched as something began to quickly shuffle on the ground in the opposite direction of the brown beast. As quick as any being could hope the other dragon was on the other side of the rock standing in front of the odd creature.


Eldunari flattened her wings against her body and quickly found ground. She slithered to the rock and peered over it. In a faint whisper she could hear the older dragon talking to the being. She wished she could also find the dragon's thoughts, but she decided they must be hidden.


In the air she could smell an odd scent, one she seemed to know but had long forgotten. The creature also looked slightly familiar, like she had seen it in a dream. With so many questions, she demanded answers. She dug her talons into the boulder she was crouched behind and pounced forward, about to catch the creature in her claws. As she readied herself she felt an odd urge one that made her twist in the air and topple to the ground just beside the creature. Out of rage she straightened and stuck her muzzle right near it's head and bellowed out. She flared her nostrils and shouted to the other dragon, but not to the creature 'What is this thing, why was it near us and why do I feel so compelled to care for it! '. As she awaited an answer she kept her eyes darting between the dragon and the creature, looking for any danger, and knowing she'd be ready for it.

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Lifaen pulled her lips back and exposed her teeth. She growled at the younger dragon in annoyance and nipped at the air just in front of her face. 'Be more careful. You could crush it,' she snapped, nostrils flared and body tense. Did this little Guardian have no instincts at all? What had she thought, trying to jump on the human?


’It’s a human,’ she replied, answering the question as best she could. But she was more than human too, but it seemed the other Guardian had never yet seen one of the creatures they were bound to protect. It didn’t surprise her, not in the least. The elders went out of their way to limit interaction between humans and Guardians. Many Nocturnes older than this one hadn’t even encountered one yet. The only reason Lifaen had was her occasional trips out of the mountains. All Nocturnes encountered souls in the Underworld, but they weren’t quite the same as the living thing so the youngling’s confusion made sense.


’Have your parents neglected your education so thoroughly? The souls we protect in the Underworld start as these creatures. We were made to guard them; that’s why you feel the urge to protect it,’ she replied before turning her attention back to the human, waiting for answers to the questions she had posed.




Amun muttered to himself and leaned in when he saw the wound. It sure looked fatal at first glance, but it didn’t do to jump to conclusions. This woman still could be a crazed human that had stabbed herself to fake a death wound to get at the Nightwalkers. Pushing his glasses down to the bridge of his nose to get a better look, he took a long time just looking at the wound, all he had learned about treating this sort of wound in his studies rushing through his mind. After a minute or so, he was finally satisfied. He looked straight at her, not bothering to hide his red eyes this time. This was her reality, so she better start getting used to it. “You’re dead alright,” he whispered to her, not wanting to be overheard. “Here’s not the place to discuss this though.”


He straightened up, pushed his glasses back up, and hurriedly began walking out of the alleyway, not wanting to spend another minute so exposed in the open. “Hide that again and hurry up,” he called back at her. He briefly glanced over his shoulder and gave her the most serious look he could manage. “If you want answers that is.”

Edited by Walker

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