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#Post#: 151199--------------------------------------------------
Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: Demonreach Date: March 20, 2012, 12:40 am
---------------------------------------------------------
In a place where the sky is black and the moons are red. In a
place where demons walk amongst the humans. In a place where
shadows become reality and where reality is shadow. A place
where everything is upside down and where the obvious isn't so
quite so obvious. A place that is in a constant state of change
at the worst, and sometimes the greatest, possible moments. Such
a place where everything but the demons are oblivious to
whispering murmurs, that voice in the back of their head giving
them that extra... push. This place, this plane, exists and is
called Exhayvn. A plane where a god can walk freely with the
demons and humans of the its world, its creation, and not be
noticed lest he wish it. This plane is home to the Demon God of
Eight, Romulus, a herald what will happen and of what can or
could be but this herald's visions come at a price, such a price
that it twists the souls of good men and corrupts the
incorruptible and offers power to those already down that path
of corruption and twisting of their souls. Why would one risk
their own soul, their very existence, to serve such a herald of
fate? For greed, lust, power, love, vengeance, and anything else
that strikes a cord in ones heart. But the question one should
ask is: Why wouldn't someone make a deal with a devil? Well, why
not? Because one is higher than others? Sure, that would work
but even that person has traded something for such a belief, and
maybe they didn't make a deal with the Demon God to get there,
but they could be just a step away.
Exhayvn has five moons, each a different shade of red and each
visible day and night. The clouds are black and excrete an even
blacker liquid that seems to get in everything and everywhere.
The land mainly consists of farmland with one major ocean and a
few lakes and twice as many ponds scattered about; grasslands
and the occasional marshland are rarely inhabited and offer a
diversity in fauna and flora. Mountains isolate the major city
of Black Coral and the second largest city, Pale, rests in the
middle of the Azure Ocean, which is in the center of the
continent and has its watery fingers stretching throughout it.
The Coral Mountains (some of which are larger than Mount
Everest) surround Black Coral and have various inhabitants
scattered. Some of these mountains house cults dedicated to the
Demon God of Eight, performing their secret rituals in hiding.
Demons, ones of the first level, crawl throughout the mountains,
preying on the unfortunate lost traveler, though they even go
after larger bands of people. Most of these demons have an angry
white glowing Eight on their chest, which is sideways. Even
though the first level demons are more frequent in the
mountains, there are some second level demons but most mistake
them for first levels at first glance. But, if one looked
closely into the depthless eyes and had enough sanity left, they
would see that the pupils were also a sideways eight.
There are few demon attacks and raids upon the general
population, though the isolated farmhouse is often raided for
their livestock, their cattle moreso than the rest. There are a
few guard stations about the land, specialized in taking down
demons, or at least driving them away. There are a few places in
which are avoided altogether expect by the stupid and the
wardens due to a subconscious acknowledgement of
self-preservation. In these dwellings, rest the cult priests and
the higher level demons, though the rare fourth level demons are
known to visit these places of their masters behalf, should he
be too caught up in ever raging war between the other Demon
God's or dealing with the mortals who wish to strike a bargain
in hopes of gaining something.
The general population live simple lives for the most part,
unaffected by the ongoings in the surroundings farmlands and
forests, where demons and other disreputable reside and raid
from time to time. Even though the raiding isn't much of a
problem, farming is one the major jobs, so there are guard
stations and patrols that are garrisoned about the outlaying
farms too far away from the towns and villages. Those that do
live in the too far away farms have hard lives, even without the
constant threat of raids, and some of the farmhands and owners
and the younger men pick up a few pointers on the basics of
sword fighting or are usually veterans of some sort. There are
decoy farms in which the wardens lure demons and/or other
creatures of a disreputable nature and ambush them. The people
are educated in history and warfare, or at least the basics the
strategy, should the raiding creatures form a more elaborate
raiding party.
(Jack... I seriously dislike you for making me do this >_>)
(The next part will be the "special plane" in which resides the
Demon God Eight and his demonic minions)
The special plane is basically formed up by various clouds of
the world plane; an invisible world hidden in the sky. Even if
the world below is having a clear day, the special plane retains
the cloudy floor, though it is more transparent. The "sky" is
red and the moons black. A darkness so eternal all light seems
to be sucked into it dominates the special plane and is called
by the cultists as the Black City, though it goes be a different
name entirely by those of the demonic nature and a different
name altogether by the Demon God himself. The name the Demon God
calls it would render most dumb, if not outright dead in a
language akin to nails on a chalkboard, though smooth and sharp
like broken glass.
#Post#: 246095--------------------------------------------------
Re: Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: BooBoo Date: August 4, 2012, 10:30 pm
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An unscheduled stop. In the middle of some Godforsaken no mans
land. " OH for Fucks sake!" She exclaims loudly then clasps her
hands over her mouth. Not in disbelief of her own words but in a
slight panic over her surroundings. Shaking off the panic she
straightens her spine, calls her fellow shipmates to dock the
boat, and once docked she grabs her various weapons and steps
onto the ground in the eerie moonlight. Swallowing hard, she
quickly walks to the nearest Inn.
#Post#: 246101--------------------------------------------------
Re: Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: Demonreach Date: August 4, 2012, 10:40 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Cursing, Dracierous tugged his black jacket free from the thorn
bushes, grimacing as he heard the fabric rip. Like an idiot, he
poked two of his fingers through the material, wiggling them,
staring incredulously before turning towards the offending bush.
The air dropped in temperature rapidly for a brief moment as the
man focused his will, drawing upon the energy around him and
setting the bush on fire with a murmured word in ancient Greek.
The black flames would die away as the bush became ashes,
leaving Dracierous a very satisfied being. Breathing in deeply
as he turned, continuing to walk, he let out the breath slowly;
smoke coming of his nostrils and barely opened mouth, a
cigarette laying unlit upon his lips. The cigarette was simply
there is disguise this phenomenon, the smoke coming from his
mouth and/or nostrils. Most dismissed this, others assumed it
was one of those "electric cigarettes" but technology wouldn't
work around him, especially him. Because his could use magic,
could use a great deal of it in a matter of seconds, technology
seemed to fuzz out due to his magical aura that radiated from
him; he could block magical energies by making a circle but it
didn't stop things from getting in. Not that the circle couldn't
modified, or that multiple couldn't be laid down. Brushing back
the snow white hair that fell to his shoulders in straight
tendrils, he sighed softly; remembering a day that couldn't be
forgotten, though he wouldn't wish it to be forgotten in any
case.
Dracierous was a man above average height in this time, being a
little over six foot, but he was a lean man; the loose clothing
made it difficult to get a read for his musculature, but he was
lean by all accounts. The black jacket was a bit more snug than
the dark grey shirt beneath it, accentuating the broadness of
his shoulders and the deep chest; his pants were a dark blue
that were well-worn and faded with use and, despite this, they
fit just as perfect as the first day he had chosen them; upon
his feet where black-on-white Converse, the shoe-laces in a
laddered pattern --both laces fitting into each of the holes
until the very top one, which was left alone. These too were
faded from the sun and of use but nothing stressful upon the
canvas-like shoes; a few scuff marks here and there but nothing
major to warrant attention. His irises were a silvery-white, a
black circle showing the boundaries of the silver coloring while
the pupil remained the same black, if the pupil did seem a bit
more lacking in color but those pupils were slightly pointed at
the top and bottom; pointed ears peaked from the snow white
tresses. Despite his seemingly healthy gait and physical
condition, his pallor was a pale silver as well, slightly
darkened like a stain, but this didn't hinder the presence he
created, the confidence of himself and of his surroundings.
However, he was unnerved slightly by what his silver eyes
revealed to him but didn't think anything of it. Sometimes,
worlds were created differently. And this one stank of a
presence so dark his nose burned; he would hate to Look upon
this place with his Sight. As long as he had been around, he had
Seen from atrocious things that nearly devoured his insanity;
the same thing being about how the beautiful things he had Seen.
Sensing a storm coming along, he hunched his shoulders forward
as if to keep the water from the back of his neck. No storm yet,
though; and maybe the storm wouldn't be one with clouds...
#Post#: 246121--------------------------------------------------
Re: Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: BooBoo Date: August 4, 2012, 10:59 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Standing at the door to the Inn, Pippa catches a burst of light
from the corner of her eye. In a soft voice she repeats " not my
problem" over and over. Tugging on the door proves it to be
locked. A loud gowl comes from between her lips. She would have
to wait 15 minutes for her shipmates to show up so they could
help her loot the place. Huffing and cursing she spins in a
circle and spots the fire starter. Her heart jumps to her throat
but she swallows it down. He was tall and pale and.. not human
exactly. Her hand strays to her pistol and she grips the handle
hard while doing the most foolish thing she could think of. "
Ay.. You! What chu call this place?" Her voice comes out in an
accent. Her mahogany eyes sweep over the stranger.
#Post#: 254437--------------------------------------------------
Re: Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: Demonreach Date: August 13, 2012, 8:39 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Mountains pierced the black clouds, the peaks lost to the eye; a
lukewarm breeze rolled through the world with an ominous feel;
in some places animals became quiet and the screams of the dying
could be heard, the clash of steel on steel and the sharp smell
of blood filling the air. But this is a far away place, a place
that was of no concern to the new god that walked this realm.
Oh, how he could feel the anger of the Demon God at this
intrusion but Aetus Blackwood ignored this anger, the hate,
coldly; not even bothering to acknowledge the creature and its
power for it lesser than the Blackwood's own. In fact, this man
ignored just about everything, seeing through the people of
Black Coral, as he walked across the bridge that would remain
open for just a few more hours. It was hard to figure out the
time but Aetus ignored this as well. He was the master of time,
the twister of fates. A path opened before him as he walked,
those sharing this bridge moving out of his way lest they be
trampled. Someone found this out the hard way, a few minutes
back, when they refused to move.
Aetus's glacier blue eyes, as cold and as hard as steel, gazed
about without moving; the faint aura's around the people around
him pulsed, his power acknowledging their fates, their destiny.
Some would die by his hand when they went to sleep; their
families cursing his name until they too died. But he saw hope
in some lives, sometimes even a flicker of love that would grow
to a roaring fire that paled even the hottest sun, and he would
ensure that this happened. His heart was long since dead to the
emotions of the lesser creatures but the Blackwood wouldn't let
everything else die. Though, he knew it would eventually. Sad
thoughts but the man no longer felt this, for he was detached
and indifferent.
Aetus Blackwood stood just above six foot; his muscles were all
lean and hard; his shoulders were broad, the shirt that clung to
his torso made them moreso; the dark blue shirt moved from the
deep chest to the narrow waist and vanished beneath black pants
that hung just below the hips; his facial features were sharp,
angular, those features seemingly made from stone for all the
emotions they showed but didn't detract from the handsome face;
short, black hair laid flatly upon his head, though it did wave
slightly in the lukewarm breeze. His hands were stuffed into the
pockets of his jeans, his black boots --boots that came up to
his knees but were rolled down at the openings, allowing them to
come midway up his shins-- made faint thuds across the wooden
planks that made up the draw-bridge. Black chains were wrapped
around his arms, chains that would coil from his arms and across
his shoulders and along the back of his neck, but these chains
were simply tattoos; a representation of his entanglement with
time and fate, an entanglement that couldn't be escaped short of
death. But who wanted to die? The idea of a god dying, of being
able to, no longer touched Aetus, for all things were bound to
Time, and Time didn't let anything go. But of his own life, he
was completely ignorant. No idea of how he was to die, how long
he would live, who he would meet, where he would go, nothing. He
preferred it that way. Nothing like surprises...
Speaking of surprises, the god moved a little to the left,
kicking out the same foot to trip a man. This man fell flat on
his face, barely catching himself from breaking his nose. The
man, of course, cursed his luck and then looked up to see Aetus
staring down at him. The man, furious, started to yell. Anyone
could see that this yelling man had been upset about something
prior to being tripped by the Blackwood. Instead, Aetus calmly
responded in his deep, confident voice, "Instead of cursing me,
friend, you should be paying attention to who is yelling at
you." With that, he walked off, the man forever put out of his
mind. A woman came running past him, to fling herself into the
arms of the formerly tripped man. Saved the mans life. Saved the
woman's, too, now that Aetus thought about it. He chuckled to
himself, a deep, rough chuckle; the roughness due to not
laughing in many months. Was it months? Did it matter? But, the
chuckle wasn't full of amusement, nor was it a wry laugh; it was
mirthless and many people moved farther away from him.
#Post#: 254478--------------------------------------------------
Re: Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: Kalida Date: August 13, 2012, 9:03 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
The sharp, blood-curdling sound of the cackle of Chaos herself
echoed across the desert valley and over the tops of the looming
black mountains whose tops were shrouded with clouds darker than
smoke. Kalida cared of nothing in this moment but her lust for
the iron scent of fresh human blood on her skin. Not the sand
under her feet, nor the chilling breeze that seemed to pick up
before a storm whipping against her back, for she did not feel
these things like a human felt. She felt them through the vessel
of a Blackwood of Chaos. She felt them with the never ending
lust to kill and maim and forever antagonize the universe that
the Ancients created. In the beginning, she had been one of the
biggest thorns in the Ancients sides, and even now she only kept
to the truce out of loyalty to her family. As the echo of her
cackle returned to her, Kalida lifted her visage to the sky to
take a breath in deeply the scent of her victim's fear.
Returning her gaze to the man that lay at her feet, Kalida
smirked as a few passersby shrilled in horror and raced away in
fear. Her victim's body and face were burned with the acidic
touch of Chaos Energy. Flesh was literally eaten away by
Kalida's lone touch, and his left arm was left limp beside him
as the Blackwood of Chaos had broken bone, tendons, and
ligaments at the shoulder. Placing a foot on the helpless man's
back and entwining her fingers in his hair, Kalida lifted his
face from the sand and decided to end her play. She cracked her
neck to one side and then the other in preparation. Then, in one
smooth movement, she stepped down with her foot and ripped
forward and up with her hand completely ripping the human's head
from his body. Flesh and blood splattered across the sand and
Kalida altering the red henna tattooing that decorated her
entire torso.
#Post#: 271057--------------------------------------------------
Re: Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: FalseTribunal Date: September 11, 2012, 6:44 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Vines snapped at his feet as if they were coiled snakes
striking at some poor oblivious creature.
"Ack!!"
Jethias yelped before stumbling face-first into a nice-fresh
pile of mud.
"Damn it. . . *pleh-phew*, why do I always get stuck in these
situations?"
The jungle was far denser then he was accustomed too and
the humid temperatures and moist air stuck to him. It strove
to irritate him even more as he rose to his feet splashing up
more mud over his already plastered body. With a forced sigh,
he continued onward, mucking through the wetlands. The jungle
stretched on for miles, a temperate of nature itself that
challenged the very core of Jethias's instincts; it did not help
the matter that the over-cast had recently darkened into a
deep-gray haze, occasionally pelting him with hot-rain.
Hours passed by and the gray-haze deepened even more
into an eery black, the black of night that seemed unnatural, as
if the world around him had suddenly vanished into an endless
void. Jethias heaved past a thicket of vines and massive
ferns then fell to his knees. Pain raked his lungs, his
muscles ached and throbbed, and his stomach screamed out at him,
demanding food that he did not have. With a final breath the
world faded away into oblivion. This is it? This is my
death?. . . . . .. , he thought moments before consciousness
left him.
#Post#: 271084--------------------------------------------------
Re: Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: Demonreach Date: September 11, 2012, 7:09 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
"Son of a bitch!" Dracierous growled out as he fought with a
thorn bush; the damned things were everywhere apparently. As he
won, he noticed he lost. His black jacket was torn along the
left side. Snorting in irritation, plumes of smoke coming from
his nostrils, the man snarled in a language similar in dialect
to Greek, though different and far older in origin. Power
breathed with the simple word and blue fire sparked to life upon
the offending bush. With a satisfied nod, he turned and stopped
midway as he realized he had no idea where he was. He cursed in
a different language. He had been stuck in this realm for quite
some time and cursed the very god that watched over it. But the
god merely laughed at him, though it never did come near enough
for Dracierous to grasp it by its short-hairs and rip it a new
one. With a sigh, he collected his thoughts, feeling them grow
dark as the beast within stirred. It was only a matter of
time...
To be honest, the half-breed was impressed his other half hadn't
awoken already and brought this realm under heel. Now that he
thought about it, Dracierous was starting to get concerned by
pushed the thoughts aside and continued his trek through the
gloomy forest that had yet to give way to something remotely
close to anything that resembled a tavern. Just a good few
drinks was all he needed and he could be on his way, but
somehow... "Bah!" He shouted, his usual deep timbre echoing
across the forest for a few dozen yards. Rubbing the bridge of
his nose in an attempt to calm his headache, his ears twitched
at a new sound. Heavy breathing? Footsteps? Who in their right
mind walked in here of their own accord? He shook his head in
disbelief. By the gods below, he would get out of here!
As he was, Dracierous stood a few inches above six feet with a
lean, muscular frame as well as broad shoulders and a deep
chest; his waist was narrow and the black jeans that decorated
them were just tight enough to hint at a few things; his jacket,
black and torn, covered most of the grey shirt, though that
shirt did carry its own wounds; black-on-white Converse, marred
and well broken-in, completed his rather modern attire. His skin
was taut over the lean muscles, and though seemingly healthy,
the mans pallor was a pale silver; the eyes and hair just the
same, though each was darker than the last, even if by a few
shades. His eyes were almond-shaped and the pupils narrow
circles; his facial features sharp and angular with a few pale
scars marring the seemingly perfect flesh. If one were to remove
his clothes, they would see dozens more, if not hundreds.
As he narrowed upon the place he heard the sound of someone
walking originate, his nostrils flared with the scent of the...
man? Dracierous stopped and gathered in his will, the immediate
area around him dropping in temperature tremendously, so much so
that frost started to gather. He cursed himself for drawing so
much from around him, though he knew it barely reached his
maximum potential. After this was done, he continued on to find
this lone wanderer.
Eventually, he came across the man, lying there on the forest
floor, caked in mud. He frowned, nudged the mans foot, "Hey!
Kid!" He cursed when nothing answered back. Not even a twitch.
Crouching, the half-breed brought his finger to the collapsed
mans throat and checked for a pulse. Faint. He growled and
cursed his luck. "Not only am I lost, but I have a dying man...
Well, I have never been one for healing, so forgive my...
roughness." With the gathered will, he barked in that ancient
dialect; soft, pink fire arced from his finger tips as well as
yellow lightning that targeted the nervous system, allowing the
synopses to connect, to provide a more stable network of things.
The pink fire delved the outside of the body before seeping into
the mans nostrils, mouth, and ears and, from there, throughout
the entirety of his veins, though the fire never burned, but
merely allowed the blood to flow easier.
These two techniques Dracierous used when torturing someone,
sometimes making the victims hit themselves repeatedly. Oh, how
he would laugh at that. In either case, he allowed this to go on
for several seconds before cutting off the flow of his power,
the vestiges of his magicks working their way into his body,
completing the process in which Dracierous had given them before
dispersing.
#Post#: 271332--------------------------------------------------
Re: Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: FalseTribunal Date: September 12, 2012, 6:38 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Jethias suddenly woke with a jolt of exaggerated breathes.
Something had coursed through his body down to the very core of
who he was, giving him life again. He didn't know who had done
this or how but then again he had hardly just regained
consciousness.
With an explosion of mud splattering onto his brown-burlap
trousers and Faded-blue shirt, he lunged forward trying to
release this ecstatic sensation that had abruptly overwhelmed
him, unaware of the other's lingering presence. Not even
moments later, a vine found its way around his ankles and
Jethias found himself tumbling face first into a large-tree
trunk a few feet away. Rear end sticking up like a
disfigured silhouette of a camel's humps, his face tucked neatly
into a small-pocket amid the tree's base, a muffled groan
managed to escape into the surroundings.
"Uuugnh. o. .oww...owww"
The boy finally shook it off before turning around to find
himself near lip-to-lip with a strange man. He froze.
"Was this the man who healed me? How? It doesn't even look as
if much time had passed since I had lost consciousness," he
thought to himself. Minutes passed and that once wide-eyed
expression of shock morphed into a more friendly gesture.
"ummmm. . . . hi there?"
Jethias prepared himself for a possible encounter. Although
it was more probable that it was this man who saved him, he had
to be cautious and he understand that far better then most
people. He did not prepare himself physically but rather
mentally. In stature, he continued to hold that friendly,
relaxed and almost clumsy-innocent persona, but his thoughts
followed the other's movements. "Ok. I have a sword, I know
where it is, I need to be ready to grab it if anything goes
wrong," he thought, reminding himself over and over again.
The problem was that Jethias is terrible at sword play, more
so then most people, and the only form of defense that could
save his life was his magic; This very magic he struggles to
hold back, he refuses to let anyone know of the power that he
holds and keeps up this attitude of a clumsy fool, a dreamer,
and an innocent boy to throw off everyone else from the truth.
He suppresses his magic and makes it impossible for anyone to
sense. Those words of his father stuck to him, even after
his death.
[ Jethias's Father right before his Death: " Jethias. . . I will
always. . love you. But please son . . rem..remember. . . . .
.nothing good will come of magic . . . I am dying because of
it. . . your mother has died because of it. . . your brothers. .
. your family . . . .Remember my warning and remember who you
are . . . .do not let magic ruin you my son.. . ." ]
Jethias smiled cheerily at the man, dragging his lithe
fingers through the dark brown-curls of his hair, waiting to see
what will happen now.
#Post#: 271750--------------------------------------------------
Re: Exhayvn {~}Realm of the Demon God of Eight{~}
By: Demonreach Date: September 13, 2012, 4:14 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
"Just isn't my day..." He growled, more to himself than
anything; his sharp gaze tracked the revived mans movements,
though the hardness of his face didn't quite soften, his
features went blank as he watched the man trip and fall. "And an
idiot to boot..." His head tilted back, looking skyward, "Your
time is going, O God of Eight, and when it does..." Through
gritted teeth he let out a calming breath, and with this breath
came smoke, which was inhaled as he breathed in through his nose
only to be exhaled once again. A small smile, though somewhat
forced, made its way across his lips, though an eyebrow cocked
itself at the response, "Hi there? Where are your manners, boy?"
He waved the matter away with a dismissive wave of a hand.
"Just... Be careful, yeah? Not all you meet will be as
hospitable as I." Dracierous chuckled softly to himself, nodding
at the man's bravado; an awkward kid, yeah, but there is
something... Obviously wouldn't last a second against a amateur
fighter, but he had been impressed before. Either way, it was
none of his concern and it didn't bring him closer to getting
out of this godforsaken realm. Well, maybe not godforsaken, but
nonetheless... His nostrils flared at the scent of the
corrupted, the beast within stirring; his mind slowly becoming
blanketed in darkness. His face fixed with concentration, he
forced his other half back to sleep. The half-breed had a
feeling that the once dying man would walk away from the
encounter.
And so, with this thought, he stuffed his hands into his pockets
and strode in a direction. Over his shoulder, Dracierous called,
"Might as well tag along, boy. This isn't a place to be alone."
Under his breath, he added, "Not even for me." In either case,
should the man follow or not, he kept walking, pondering what
drink he would get upon arriving at a tavern. Drawing up his
will, he prepared several wards and attacks ready to be used
should the man decide to repay him by ending his life.
Dracierous was paranoid, but after living for thousands of
years, who wouldn't be?
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