Thread: Plot Descriptions & Specific Ideas [+Characters]

Cyran's Appearance Peculiar, being pulled beneath ice. A stroll away from the family lead to the death of many, but not of me. Blood drained from my body, filled the water about me, but the two pearly knives intending to kill me didn't do their work effectively enough. I've heard tell of so many pitiful human victims to legendary vampires.. and their necks are so weak, and their bodies so frail. I suppose I wasn't fragile enough. My body floated, smacked the ice I was buried beneath. My fingertips shook as my palms pressed for relief, pushing upward. Once, twice. I was out of the cold in a fit, finding solace in the closest fireplace.. which belonged to a little old woman whose face I still remember. Shriveled, confused, frightened. Who was the bloody redhead sitting naked beside drenched clothes? She must have been shitting herself. I fumbled a cigarette to my lips. The flame from the lighter burned my thumb, but I couldn't feel it. I thought it was pretty cool when I could lift heavy stuff with one arm, and my senses felt illuminated.. as if they had been paintings removed from thick steel frames. I could see the edges. Feel the edges. Taste the edges. Yeah, my tongue craved blood every now and then, but it wasn't as pressing an urge as I would've imagined when I was human. I guess I could compare it to an casual drinker's desire for alcohol. I didn't start noticing the other side effects until years went by without a touch of wear and tear on my body. As a mortal, I took pride in my body. Nice chest, nice abs, tight ass, notable arms. I had to keep it up to par at all times.. But with my new alterations, I needed not lift a finger for the perfect form. I could eat all the junk I wanted, and not a calorie would show. As a mortal, I had a severe addiction to nicotine. But, changes made, my addiction was M.I.A.. Didn't matter how many sticks I smoked. Went through an experimental stage and tried all kinds of stuff. Acid, cocaine. The temporary effects still existed, but the longterm bullshit was left behind. It seemed all the consequences of poor decision-making didn't apply to me. But years kept stacking up, and those I knew began to die off. I imagined I would feel awful because I would miss the ones I ended up losing. But no. When each inevitable death came to pass, I only felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity. Was there an ultimate conclusion to every living creature? When would mine come? After a century, even the youngest of previous human acquaintances were deceased. I looked for company among the new community I belonged to, but found only traces of evidence. More searching, and information came in the form of a chattering young immortal. Vampires killed vampires just for the hell of it. Just to see what their limits were. To test immortality. It made me wonder how many there were in the world.. And my real journey began. I would go across the continents and find more like me. Half-bloods who could be out in the sun with only minor sting, feel the effects of substance abuse without the backlash, use unique skills given to them by new blood, and enjoy human food alongside the occasional crimson drink. Kanoa's Appearance On bottom. Lorin's on top. It would be inaccurate to inform you that I know where I've come from. What I am physiologically remains unknown. Wings sprout from my shoulder blades. My eyes can track the most distant of foes from the clouds. Hysterical strength fills every muscle. A scar trails down my body. Most try to stick a title to what I am. Demon, angel, android, robot, machine, monster, mutant, beast, devil.. God. I feel my lips turning upward when I hear that last one. I know not whether my expression mocks the idea the word represents, or welcomes it. Mercenary. I've been hired for something. By who? Unknown. For what? Unknown. Humans frame me as a deity. Many others are coming to fruition. Every deity is different. Some have teeth sharper than razors. Others have multiple limbs, malleable extensions of their rib cage. One deity was as tall as a small continent was wide. He was killed for meat and bones. World hunger became a distant memory.. and blood became a drink served at grocery stores. Hunter. That's what I am. My kill count is 9,978. Humans pay me because they don't like to kill directly. It burdens their sense of morality, but somehow indirect murder seems acceptable. It doesn't take much to end a human life, which makes me question what they're truly worth. Is this the time to take over the world? To eliminate humans in favor of this new race? Breeding between two deities hasn't been done yet, but it won't be long before a pair attempts. Are humans worth keeping around? Are deities spotless beings worth reproducing? I have many questions to answer before the revolution begins in either favor. I suppose a war will ensue by the end of the year, so I will make that my one deadline. Choosing a side will become an essential goal to every deity and human on this bloodied planet. Warning Apocalypse is plausible side effect. Lisse's Appearance Bows and arrows were too tame. From a distance, one couldn't dirty their precious hands. They liked to use little incantations to heal their comrades. Never close enough to danger. Fumes of light would spill from their wretched pores as if to confirm what holy beings they were. But I was always separate from the elves, despite my ancestry. While they used staffs and bows, rapiers and spears, I chose to use an infamous kanabo club, wielded in legend by demons of the far east to crush their opponents with brutal force. Honestly, it took me awhile to be able to lift the massive thing.. But once in the air, the fall is quite simple. It's more about aim than anything. Gotta get the perfect angle and crush your enemies in one stroke, or risk death via the vulnerability after the initial drop. I've always had a thing for money I guess. Stole some from the palace of the elves before leaving on my permanent vacation, out into the world of monsters and beasts. I intended to make use of my unique abilities to rake in the jewels.. Yeah, some would call me a mercenary, but the hand that tossed coins wasn't the one that controlled me. I've always been in control of myself. My slightly askew moral compass never led me the wrong direction despite throwing me in some awkward situations. I can't recall how many times I was stuck between a noose and a pack of imperial guards, but I'm obviously still alive to tell the tale. The spotlight. People tend to discriminate between good and bad attention, but it's all good to me. The Kanabo Killer! He's approaching our humble town! Close the gates, close the gates! Guards! Fear is something humans tend to have too much of. I don't kill just anyone.. I like a challenge, and mortals don't offer anything close. Demons, devils, even angels. I would fight them all if I thought there was risk of fatal injury. Testing boundaries, it's what I do. Boundaries of all kinds. I like to see how far people would go for their desires, how much torment they willingly endure. I believe in love, yeah, but to what extent? I don't buy that 'love transcends all' bullshit. People change, and so do their feelings. Passion fades like alcohol. Doesn't matter how strong it is. Eventually, all you've got left is a hangover and hopefully a couple good memories. So my own people are after my head, and a good percentage of the humans are too. I can handle a few at a time. I guess they should be forming an army specialized in my capture or murder if they're so bent on the demise of a bold traitor. Lorin's Appearance As my body was taken through the mirror, I remembered the events that brought me to this moment. Glass shattered around me, cutting my flesh as an unseen force navigated me. Pulling, pulling. A familiar tug.. The hands of my former abuser welcomed me a single stormy night so long ago. Like so many in my time, I was an orphan. Helpless, hopeless, pathetic. I asked if he didn't have a single bed available in his mansion, knowing he was the only full-time resident. He said he had plenty of space for me, and that was true. If I had only known that space was in his private chambers, I wouldn't have exchanged words at the large double doors of his estate. Time passed. Shackles, outfits, bruises, blood. He wasn't an unfortunate looking man, and he didn't have an unfortunate looking body. But I suppose he couldn't get off without restraints and screams. It was a morbid looking evening every night from then on. Would the rain ever cease to drown the world, or was the sky crying for me because I had no more water left to drip? The night of my triumph, or perhaps loss, was a blur of grey and crimson. Rain poured, as did blood. A butcher knife in my hand, clutched tight. Predator struck in the heart, gashed from neck to bellybutton diagonally. A frilly bloodstained apron I wore, and that was all. I tried to drop my instrument of death, but it wouldn't fall as I ran from the double doors to my own freedom outside of the wicked walls of the opulent cell. I don't remember the series of things that happened in the following days. Only the bitter ache of four horns growing. Two from my shoulders and two from my hips. Hand never ceasing grip of the knife. More dead bodies appeared as the days passed, and I suppose I had reason to kill each one. Or maybe not. Presently, the mirror guided me into another place. It looked as if a cave, and on the throne of demise sat a horned entity some would call the Devil. But I called him my God. He brought me to avenge the many who were too webbed in chains to do anything for themselves. Murder after murder, the once innocent soul within me was drowned in black. I continue to go through periods of forgetfulness, where I am who I used to be once again. Optimistic, carefree, even happy. Temporary though these fits may be, the effects lend me the will I need to go through with my duty to those without words. Skadi's Appearance Once upon a time, a gorgeous Swedish couple conceived their first, and only, child. It's a girl. The sonographer warmly attested. The happy couple became ten times as blissful in that one moment. Athleticism, beauty, and undeniable fertility would bless their young girl. She would be strong enough to fight against anyone. She would positively be... a goddess. Yes, a goddess. She would be named after the Norse goddess of hunting and winter, Skadi, the towering entity who dangled a venom-dripping serpent above the deceptive and tightly-bound Loki's head. The child was born with the perfect features, save for one thing.. An unexpected mass between their baby's legs. With a slender physique, pitifully tender, chocolate-brown eyes, pale skin, and platinum blonde hair, I was their most unpleasant surprise. They wanted a tough girl, and instead birthed a soft boy. I wasn't any good at sports, used but passive sarcasm to fight those who insulted me, and was respected only as spontaneous eye candy. I was the perfect disappointment. But hell, I intended to disappoint them even more. I smirked as I walked through the halls of my fucked up high school, hair chopped and body covered in tight latex. A pair of glistening black pants, thigh high boots, and a long-sleeved top that cut off just above my exposed bellybutton with a zipper down the center. My fingernails were painted the color of shade, and mascara cloaked my long eyelashes. So my parents ended up kicking me out.. which was the best decision they'd ever made for me. When I first got into doing the whole sex-for-money deal, it was really sleazy. The brothels were unprofessional cumdumps at fucking best.. Until I was noticed for my unquestionable skills by a certain talent agent who recruited me to join my personal sanctuary. I was worshipped as a God.. and paid in kind. Alcohol was never far from reach, nor were pills, eager guys, or bricks of cold hard cash. Now, I'm being told I have the voice of an angel by many a flattering client.. Quite the range, they say. Someone even asked me how I felt about performing opera instead of fellatio. Not really sure what I'll do from this point on, but it seems I have a couple thrilling options. To sing, or to fuck? Nahno's Appearance I am the nomad of fishnet, fur, and lace, the mortal most praised. I am the wanderer of love, lust, and grace, the angel they gazed. My skin is the softest material in the world, and the muscles beneath hard in rigorous contrast. If my body fell from the clouds, would that mean I was sentenced here forever, or merely visiting? Human. How could something as perfect as myself be such a thing? I laugh when I think it. Not a wrinkle or flaw on my form for twenty years. If I attract attention, it isn't because I demand it. It's because you're intrigued to look. What flawed being wouldn't want to view such a male Venus, Aphrodite? With eyes of celadon and hair of silk, I can have whatever I desire. I got an entire village to worship at my feet by but batting eyelashes just last month, and I'll do it again and again until the world is at my toes, climbing to kiss my calves and hips--but never on the lips. I save these for the one who can compete with me. The one who can measure up to my glory, to my superiority. The life of an adventuring angel is truly luxurious. Many a creature longs to view me but once in their lifetime, and I can end them all with a snap of my delicate but firm fingertips. Would you kill each other to please one such as me? I asked a malevolent but misguided kingdom so many years ago.. The question was answered with blood. On walls, in fountains, the very King and Queen were found with blades sticking from their hearts. There was one left. A woman managed to live through the massacre. She didn't listen, or perhaps it happened too quickly for her to find a willing murderer. I smiled when I approached her. I could taste her anxiety, see her goosebumps, feel the tension as her pupils condensed. I hope you realize how fortunate you are, to stand in my presence breathing. Take every jewel from the ruined palace and learn that causing a war is a double-edged sword. A laugh left my lips as I departed the crimson kingdom. Those who would compromise my goal were to be eliminated by each other. My command was law to all the babbling, lusting creatures of insignificant mind and body. Ashe's Appearance I wished for something that didn't exist, and it came to be. As I glanced back at the burning house, I knew that was the end of my longing, the end of my life as I knew it. My flavorless shoes against the sidewalk, my slender frame leaving each house behind as I went on and on down the row. Shouts and screams. Fire, fire! I remember one woman looking at me as if I walking the wrong direction. Her confusion was clear in the form of her pouting lips and bulging eyes, but she minded me only five seconds before dashing to the scene of the past, ablaze. I didn't want to be the rebel, but that was how I was printed in the magazines and newspapers. The harm was only financial. I made certain my parents were out.. but they would get the idea. If I didn't deserve the affection of the only two humans who brought me into being, I thought I at least deserved to leave their lives with a bang. I wanted them to remember the boy they had forgotten for fifteen years. I don't count the first year. No, they loved me for the first year. A tendril of light hair fluttered against my light brown eyes. They designed me. I let myself smile when I realized I was finally relieved of suburbia. It's been months since that day, and people are still looking for me. It's difficult to find a young boy named Emil Jurrings when Ashe Volte has been slowly killing him since the fire. I look to the sky. A dense grey. Implicating rain soon to come, to wash away these lingering regrets and guide me to peace. My teeth gleam when I feel the first droplet, a field of chrysanthemums about me in the clearing of a lush forest. The remaining pieces of shy, sweet, pitiful Emil drown in rain today.. Brave, stable, passionate Ashe rises from his corpse with aspirations of paradise. Fleshed-out characters are in this post.