PLI
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𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝
01
story
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The county of Grimwood. It is a haunted place. The Count who oversaw the area died of a mysterious illness and some inhabitants dissipated into thin air. Rumors and whispers of unholy things that stalk the shadows are rampant. But little do they know the true history of Grimwood.
In the annals of Grimwood, it was said that the divine once danced among mortals, guised as the mortals. The Gods, cloaked in the ordinary, shared love and laughter with the townsfolk of Grimwood, a place so hallowed that heaven touched earth. Yet, not all hearts welcomed the heavenly. The 'Iblis,' saw the Gods not as benevolent but as capricious beings, toying with human affections for sport. Their jealousy brewed a dark plot, enlisting Aria, a woman of stark beauty, to seduce a heavenly being.
And when the time came, the 'Tanrı katili,' a relic bestowed by a sympathetic God, was to be their salvation—a means for a God to vanish at death's door. But when the blade fell, and the God was struck, the artifact did not save but cursed. The God was lost to eternity, and with this act, the heavens recoiled in horror.
Wrathful and betrayed, the Gods forsook the earth, their departure a tempest of fear and fury. The 'Iblis' reveled in triumph, but their joy was short-lived. A curse befell them, transforming their flesh into monstrous forms, shadows of their former selves, doomed to haunt the very kin they vowed to protect. Aria, the catalyst of this tragedy, bore the heaviest burden, becoming the mother of these abominations.
The whole world wept under the weight of loss, its people perishing under the claws of their former protectors. In their darkest hour, they beseeched the Gods for mercy. And from the heavens, a whisper of compassion was heard. The revenant covenant was forged—a pact of redemption, offering a glimmer of hope to mend the rift between the divine and the damned. The Revenant Covenant was Grimwood’s final hope. The Gods, though scarred by betrayal, extended a sliver of grace to the beleaguered mortals. From the ashes of conflict, the protectors arose—revenants graced with divine might, resurrected to defend against the darkness they once wrought. Their death would only be ensured when the tombstone that birthed them would be destroyed.
You are one of these protectors. Birthed from a deep-seated grudge, you have fled from your past and found a new future in this body. Amidst the foreign memories and your own, there is one thing you've figured: protect the people from the inhumane monsters that set foot on it's turf. For the fight was not just in Grimwood. The God's fury at the loss of a comrade was far greater than that. As long as Aria lived, Monsters would run rampant across the Earth, to unleash terror and violence. However, be careful, you may seem immortal due to the powers of the divine but you can still return to the cold embrace of the void. If the tombstone that had birthed you were to fall...so would you. So, faithful protector, fare thee well and may your blade be as swift as the wind.
Disgraced
The
The
Born to the realm’s most revered swordmaster, you were seen as a letdown. Frail of body, you lacked the stamina for rigorous training, let alone the handling of a sword. Yet, you discovered your worth on a different battlefield: the realm of tactics. Your strategic knowledge was not just advanced—it was unparalleled. Urged to the front lines by your father’s urging, your intellect swiftly earned you a distinguished rank within the imperial forces. Victory followed victory, and whispers of your potential rise to the King’s advisor were rampant. But as swiftly as your renown grew, it was shattered. A trusted friend's betrayal laid your strategies bare before the enemy, leading to the decimation of the imperial legions. For the first time, you beheld the true horrors of war—not from the safety of your command post, but amidst the battle. Blood-soaked earth. Severed limbs. The vacant stares of soldiers who had placed their faith in your stratagems. In desperation, you fled. The certainty of death if you remained, or execution if caught deserting, paled in comparison to the daunting thoughts of your fallen comrades and your father’s disappointment. With each step away from the battlefield, you knew you were forsaking not only your men but also your honor.
Scarred
The
The
Once a child of the streets, you were the protector of your only sister. The mercy of a tavern keeper gave you relief, offering food and shelter. Yet, survival demanded coin—coin that no honest work would give to street urchins like yourselves. Thus, you turned toward a life of crime, a role that fit snugly and paid handsomely. With ill-gotten wealth, you secured a tutor for your sister, along with clothes and food. Amidst your happiness in your provision, you didn't notice the sad, curious looks she would cast as she saw the scars that only seemed to grow every day. One night, as you returned with your share of the riches pillaged, your sister presented her own contribution: fifteen gold pieces, the price of her innocence, bartered away with the tavern keeper’s aid at a brothel. Despite the bruises and tears that littered her face, she gave you a hopeful look, searching for a sign of approval and appreciation. Your emotions give way to rage, all of it directed to the ones who drove her to this—the world, the tavern keeper, and mostly, yourself. Your outburst, however, only served to terrify your sister, filled with fright and confusion. In her eyes, she had only acted to relieve the burden to provide for the both of you. Misunderstood, she fled into the darkness, leaving behind your desperate calls.You waited in the inn for days, weeks. But she never came. You looked for her everyday but to no avail. Haunted by guilt, you took up the sword of a mercenary, offered by the local guild. Your injuries are not only marked on your body…but on your heart.
Bad Omen
The
The
Gifted—or cursed—with the Sight, your visions revealed the fates of all who crossed your path. As a child, your prophecies were celebrated, and you were hailed as an oracle. But as the years passed, your visions grew darker, foretelling tragedies and disasters. When a vision foretold the fall of a beloved monarch, you were blamed for casting a malevolent curse rather than issuing a warning. Accused of witchcraft and treason, you fled into the wilds, haunted by the eyes of those you could not save and the knowledge that every prophecy you speak has the power to alter the course of lives.
Oathbreaker
The
The
You were once a celebrated knight, sworn to uphold the sacred laws of the order. Your sword was an extension of your will, and your word was your bond. But when the order commanded you to carry out a decree you knew to be unjust, you faced a harrowing choice. Uphold the oath and commit an act against your conscience, or break the vow and face the consequences. Your decision to spare an innocent life cost you everything. Branded an oathbreaker, you fled the order’s wrath, leaving behind your title, your home, and the love of your life. The screams of those you had spared soon followed your ears as you left. You watched, with horror, as the village you swore to protect was burned to the ground.
volutpat
Enchantress
The
The
You were the courtesan whose company was sought by nobles and merchants alike. Your wit was as sharp as your beauty, a confidante to the powerful and a whisperer of many secrets. You danced through the halls of influence, your laughter the melody of the night. But beneath the silk and smiles, you harbored a scholar’s mind, indulging in studies of ancient lore and forbidden magic. When a spell meant for love twisted into a curse, your patron—a duke of considerable repute—fell victim to an eternal slumber. You packed your bags, ready to leave, however it was too late as the guards met you first. You were confined to a dungeon, tortured for the spell to release the duke. The night that used to revertberate with your laughter, now are replaced with your screams (Could be related to 'The Scarred')
Forsaken
The
The
Lured by whispers of silk and sovereignty, you entered the palace gates, a concubine promised a crown. The king, a man with a serpent's tongue, spun tales of love and legacy to ensnare your heart. But the nights that unfolded were void of tenderness, filled instead with abuse and rough handling of your body. The power you envisioned, a mere mirage; your voice, silenced; your will, bent to the whims of a tyrant. As a queen entered the palace, you were forgotten, confined to a small chamber. Abandoned, without care or comfort, you became a ghost within your own life. A mere poltiical chess piece to be discarded.
Nameless
The
The
A spectre. You are an anomaly compared to the others. Your past is unique. (Free space to do something other than the roles given)
Roles
Miscellaneous:
Writers, as said to the side, must post 2 paragraphs Per Post. Throughout these posts, you are to be respectful of others and mindful of your words (wow I sound like my mom now. Guess it's time to get out the chancla).
When the CS comes out, it would be preferred that a max of 3-4 people submit a character before you start going for seconds. However, a limit of 2 characters will be put in place.
I might reach out to you with ideas on incorporating your character more in the plot or maybe ask for some opinions on how the plot should flow. I know I'm not the best in this area (constructing the plot) but if I think that it could be better through consulting, I will do so.
Characters can be any species. But please, remember you're in modern day Earth. Don't make yourself a dragon or some pterodactyl. Though there will be a way of guising your character when you go on missions in the future, please be realistic and keep it minimal.
GM NOTES
Hello my fellow people on earth, it is I PLI with notes on the RP! Chronicles of the Revenant Covenant will be a multiple settings RP set in a 'Modern' time. Want to explore more of your character with a group? Why not? Want to go bash skulls of monsters? Let's do it! Want to ghost the RP after a few days? No. This RP frowns upon ghosting the RP within a few days. If you do need to a leave for personal reasons, please let me know!! I'll send your character on some long winded expedition on finding their inner chi or something. But it's IMPORTANT to let me know first!
The way the RP flows will depend on you guys! (if this RP even takes off that is) There are many ways this can play out, so any suggestions would be welcomed. If you feel the character exploration set in Grimwood is a bit stale, perhaps maybe an expedition to New York City needs to take place to break up the ice. Just reach out in the OOC or PM me, and it'll all work out. Communication is key.
Regarding posting for the RP, it is preferred that there be at least 2 paragraphs Per Post. I don't care if you write like Shakespeare or like a three year old child (As long as that three year old child has good grammar), let's just have fun!
That is all. Thank you for reading this and I hope that you decide to join! But yeah...peace!
Complete Text Version Below
Story
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╭───────────────────────────•✧• ───────────────────────────╮
In the annals of Grimwood, it was said that the divine once danced among mortals, guised as the mortals. The Gods, cloaked in the ordinary, shared love and laughter with the townsfolk of Grimwood, a place so hallowed that heaven touched earth. Yet, not all hearts welcomed the heavenly. The 'Iblis,' saw the Gods not as benevolent but as capricious beings, toying with human affections for sport. Their jealousy brewed a dark plot, enlisting Aria, a woman of stark beauty, to seduce a heavenly being.
And when the time came, the 'Tanrı katili,' a relic bestowed by a sympathetic God, was to be their salvation—a means for a God to vanish at death's door. But when the blade fell, and the God was struck, the artifact did not save but cursed. The God was lost to eternity, and with this act, the heavens recoiled in horror.
Wrathful and betrayed, the Gods forsook the earth, their departure a tempest of fear and fury. The 'Iblis' reveled in triumph, but their joy was short-lived. A curse befell them, transforming their flesh into monstrous forms, shadows of their former selves, doomed to haunt the very kin they vowed to protect. Aria, the catalyst of this tragedy, bore the heaviest burden, becoming the mother of these abominations.
The whole world wept under the weight of loss, its people perishing under the claws of their former protectors. In their darkest hour, they beseeched the Gods for mercy. And from the heavens, a whisper of compassion was heard. The revenant covenant was forged—a pact of redemption, offering a glimmer of hope to mend the rift between the divine and the damned. The Revenant Covenant was Grimwood’s final hope. The Gods, though scarred by betrayal, extended a sliver of grace to the beleaguered mortals. From the ashes of conflict, the protectors arose—revenants graced with divine might, resurrected to defend against the darkness they once wrought. Their death would only be ensured when the tombstone that birthed them would be destroyed.
You are one of these protectors. Birthed from a deep-seated grudge, you have fled from your past and found a new future in this body. Amidst the foreign memories and your own, there is one thing you've figured: protect the people from the inhumane monsters that set foot on it's turf. For the fight was not just in Grimwood. The God's fury at the loss of a comrade was far greater than that. As long as Aria lived, Monsters would run rampant across the Earth, to unleash terror and violence. However, be careful, you may seem immortal due to the powers of the divine but you can still return to the cold embrace of the void. If the tombstone that had birthed you were to fall...so would you. So, faithful protector, fare thee well and may your blade be as swift as the wind.
- The Scarred: Once a child of the streets, you were the protector of your only sister. The mercy of a tavern keeper gave you relief, offering food and shelter. Yet, survival demanded coin—coin that no honest work would give to street urchins like yourselves. Thus, you turned toward a life of crime, a role that fit snugly and paid handsomely. With ill-gotten wealth, you secured a tutor for your sister, along with clothes and food. Amidst your happiness in your provision, you didn't notice the sad, curious looks she would cast as she saw the scars that only seemed to grow every day. One night, as you returned with your share of the riches pillaged, your sister presented her own contribution: fifteen gold pieces, the price of her innocence, bartered away with the tavern keeper’s aid at a brothel. Despite the bruises and tears that littered her face, she gave you a hopeful look, searching for a sign of approval and appreciation. Your emotions give way to rage, all of it directed to the ones who drove her to this—the world, the tavern keeper, and mostly, yourself. Your outburst, however, only served to terrify your sister, filled with fright and confusion. In her eyes, she had only acted to relieve the burden to provide for the both of you. Misunderstood, she fled into the darkness, leaving behind your desperate calls.You waited in the inn for days, weeks. But she never came. You looked for her everyday but to no avail. Haunted by guilt, you took up the sword of a mercenary, offered by the local guild. Your injuries are not only marked on your body…but on your heart.
- The Bad Omen: Gifted—or cursed—with the Sight, your visions revealed the fates of all who crossed your path. As a child, your prophecies were celebrated, and you were hailed as an oracle. But as the years passed, your visions grew darker, foretelling tragedies and disasters. When a vision foretold the fall of a beloved monarch, you were blamed for casting a malevolent curse rather than issuing a warning. Accused of witchcraft and treason, you fled into the wilds, haunted by the eyes of those you could not save and the knowledge that every prophecy you speak has the power to alter the course of lives.
- The Oathbreaker: You were once a celebrated knight, sworn to uphold the sacred laws of the order. Your sword was an extension of your will, and your word was your bond. But when the order commanded you to carry out a decree you knew to be unjust, you faced a harrowing choice. Uphold the oath and commit an act against your conscience, or break the vow and face the consequences. Your decision to spare an innocent life cost you everything. Branded an oathbreaker, you fled the order’s wrath, leaving behind your title, your home, and the love of your life. The screams of those you had spared soon followed your ears as you left. You watched, with horror, as the village you swore to protect was burned to the ground.
- The Enchantress: You were the courtesan whose company was sought by nobles and merchants alike. Your wit was as sharp as your beauty, a confidante to the powerful and a whisperer of many secrets. You danced through the halls of influence, your laughter the melody of the night. But beneath the silk and smiles, you harbored a scholar’s mind, indulging in studies of ancient lore and forbidden magic. When a spell meant for love twisted into a curse, your patron—a duke of considerable repute—fell victim to an eternal slumber. You packed your bags, ready to leave, however it was too late as the guards met you first. You were confined to a dungeon, tortured for the spell to release the duke. The night that used to revertberate with your laughter, now are replaced with your screams (Could be related to 'The Scarred')
- The Forsaken: Lured by whispers of silk and sovereignty, you entered the palace gates, a concubine promised a crown. The king, a man with a serpent's tongue, spun tales of love and legacy to ensnare your heart. But the nights that unfolded were void of tenderness, filled instead with abuse and rough handling of your body. The power you envisioned, a mere mirage; your voice, silenced; your will, bent to the whims of a tyrant. As a queen entered the palace, you were forgotten, confined to a small chamber. Abandoned, without care or comfort, you became a ghost within your own life. A mere poltiical chess piece to be discarded.
- The Nameless: A spectre. You are an anomaly compared to the others. Your past is unique. (Free space to do something other than the roles given)
- The way the RP flows will depend on you guys! (if this RP even takes off that is) There are many ways this can play out, so any suggestions would be welcomed. If you feel the character exploration set in Grimwood is a bit stale, perhaps maybe an expedition to New York City needs to take place to break up the ice. Just reach out in the OOC or PM me, and it'll all work out. Communication is key.
- Regarding posting for the RP, it is preferred that there be at least 2 paragraphs Per Post. I don't care if you write like Shakespeare or like a three year old child (As long as that three year old child has good grammar), let's just have fun!
And when the time came, the 'Tanrı katili,' a relic bestowed by a sympathetic God, was to be their salvation—a means for a God to vanish at death's door. But when the blade fell, and the God was struck, the artifact did not save but cursed. The God was lost to eternity, and with this act, the heavens recoiled in horror.
Wrathful and betrayed, the Gods forsook the earth, their departure a tempest of fear and fury. The 'Iblis' reveled in triumph, but their joy was short-lived. A curse befell them, transforming their flesh into monstrous forms, shadows of their former selves, doomed to haunt the very kin they vowed to protect. Aria, the catalyst of this tragedy, bore the heaviest burden, becoming the mother of these abominations.
The whole world wept under the weight of loss, its people perishing under the claws of their former protectors. In their darkest hour, they beseeched the Gods for mercy. And from the heavens, a whisper of compassion was heard. The revenant covenant was forged—a pact of redemption, offering a glimmer of hope to mend the rift between the divine and the damned. The Revenant Covenant was Grimwood’s final hope. The Gods, though scarred by betrayal, extended a sliver of grace to the beleaguered mortals. From the ashes of conflict, the protectors arose—revenants graced with divine might, resurrected to defend against the darkness they once wrought. Their death would only be ensured when the tombstone that birthed them would be destroyed.
You are one of these protectors. Birthed from a deep-seated grudge, you have fled from your past and found a new future in this body. Amidst the foreign memories and your own, there is one thing you've figured: protect the people from the inhumane monsters that set foot on it's turf. For the fight was not just in Grimwood. The God's fury at the loss of a comrade was far greater than that. As long as Aria lived, Monsters would run rampant across the Earth, to unleash terror and violence. However, be careful, you may seem immortal due to the powers of the divine but you can still return to the cold embrace of the void. If the tombstone that had birthed you were to fall...so would you. So, faithful protector, fare thee well and may your blade be as swift as the wind.
╰───────────────────────────•✧•───────────────────────────╯
Roles
╭───────────────────────────•✧• ───────────────────────────╮
- The Disgraced: Born to the realm’s most revered swordmaster, you were seen as a letdown. Frail of body, you lacked the stamina for rigorous training, let alone the handling of a sword. Yet, you discovered your worth on a different battlefield: the realm of tactics. Your strategic knowledge was not just advanced—it was unparalleled. Urged to the front lines by your father’s urging, your intellect swiftly earned you a distinguished rank within the imperial forces. Victory followed victory, and whispers of your potential rise to the King’s advisor were rampant. But as swiftly as your renown grew, it was shattered. A trusted friend's betrayal laid your strategies bare before the enemy, leading to the decimation of the imperial legions. For the first time, you beheld the true horrors of war—not from the safety of your command post, but amidst the battle. Blood-soaked earth. Severed limbs. The vacant stares of soldiers who had placed their faith in your stratagems. In desperation, you fled. The certainty of death if you remained, or execution if caught deserting, paled in comparison to the daunting thoughts of your fallen comrades and your father’s disappointment. With each step away from the battlefield, you knew you were forsaking not only your men but also your honor.Roles
╭───────────────────────────•✧• ───────────────────────────╮
- The Scarred: Once a child of the streets, you were the protector of your only sister. The mercy of a tavern keeper gave you relief, offering food and shelter. Yet, survival demanded coin—coin that no honest work would give to street urchins like yourselves. Thus, you turned toward a life of crime, a role that fit snugly and paid handsomely. With ill-gotten wealth, you secured a tutor for your sister, along with clothes and food. Amidst your happiness in your provision, you didn't notice the sad, curious looks she would cast as she saw the scars that only seemed to grow every day. One night, as you returned with your share of the riches pillaged, your sister presented her own contribution: fifteen gold pieces, the price of her innocence, bartered away with the tavern keeper’s aid at a brothel. Despite the bruises and tears that littered her face, she gave you a hopeful look, searching for a sign of approval and appreciation. Your emotions give way to rage, all of it directed to the ones who drove her to this—the world, the tavern keeper, and mostly, yourself. Your outburst, however, only served to terrify your sister, filled with fright and confusion. In her eyes, she had only acted to relieve the burden to provide for the both of you. Misunderstood, she fled into the darkness, leaving behind your desperate calls.You waited in the inn for days, weeks. But she never came. You looked for her everyday but to no avail. Haunted by guilt, you took up the sword of a mercenary, offered by the local guild. Your injuries are not only marked on your body…but on your heart.
- The Bad Omen: Gifted—or cursed—with the Sight, your visions revealed the fates of all who crossed your path. As a child, your prophecies were celebrated, and you were hailed as an oracle. But as the years passed, your visions grew darker, foretelling tragedies and disasters. When a vision foretold the fall of a beloved monarch, you were blamed for casting a malevolent curse rather than issuing a warning. Accused of witchcraft and treason, you fled into the wilds, haunted by the eyes of those you could not save and the knowledge that every prophecy you speak has the power to alter the course of lives.
- The Oathbreaker: You were once a celebrated knight, sworn to uphold the sacred laws of the order. Your sword was an extension of your will, and your word was your bond. But when the order commanded you to carry out a decree you knew to be unjust, you faced a harrowing choice. Uphold the oath and commit an act against your conscience, or break the vow and face the consequences. Your decision to spare an innocent life cost you everything. Branded an oathbreaker, you fled the order’s wrath, leaving behind your title, your home, and the love of your life. The screams of those you had spared soon followed your ears as you left. You watched, with horror, as the village you swore to protect was burned to the ground.
- The Enchantress: You were the courtesan whose company was sought by nobles and merchants alike. Your wit was as sharp as your beauty, a confidante to the powerful and a whisperer of many secrets. You danced through the halls of influence, your laughter the melody of the night. But beneath the silk and smiles, you harbored a scholar’s mind, indulging in studies of ancient lore and forbidden magic. When a spell meant for love twisted into a curse, your patron—a duke of considerable repute—fell victim to an eternal slumber. You packed your bags, ready to leave, however it was too late as the guards met you first. You were confined to a dungeon, tortured for the spell to release the duke. The night that used to revertberate with your laughter, now are replaced with your screams (Could be related to 'The Scarred')
- The Forsaken: Lured by whispers of silk and sovereignty, you entered the palace gates, a concubine promised a crown. The king, a man with a serpent's tongue, spun tales of love and legacy to ensnare your heart. But the nights that unfolded were void of tenderness, filled instead with abuse and rough handling of your body. The power you envisioned, a mere mirage; your voice, silenced; your will, bent to the whims of a tyrant. As a queen entered the palace, you were forgotten, confined to a small chamber. Abandoned, without care or comfort, you became a ghost within your own life. A mere poltiical chess piece to be discarded.
- The Nameless: A spectre. You are an anomaly compared to the others. Your past is unique. (Free space to do something other than the roles given)
╰───────────────────────────•✧•───────────────────────────╯
GM Notes
╭───────────────────────────•✧• ───────────────────────────╮
- Hello my fellow people on earth, it is I PLI with notes on the RP! Chronicles of the Revenant Covenant will be a multiple settings RP set in a 'Modern' time. Want to explore more of your character with a group? Why not? Want to go bash skulls of monsters? Let's do it! Want to ghost the RP after a few days? No. This RP frowns upon ghosting the RP within a few days. If you do need to a leave for personal reasons, please let me know!! I'll send your character on some long winded expedition on finding their inner chi or something. But it's IMPORTANT to let me know first! GM Notes
╭───────────────────────────•✧• ───────────────────────────╮
- The way the RP flows will depend on you guys! (if this RP even takes off that is) There are many ways this can play out, so any suggestions would be welcomed. If you feel the character exploration set in Grimwood is a bit stale, perhaps maybe an expedition to New York City needs to take place to break up the ice. Just reach out in the OOC or PM me, and it'll all work out. Communication is key.
- Regarding posting for the RP, it is preferred that there be at least 2 paragraphs Per Post. I don't care if you write like Shakespeare or like a three year old child (As long as that three year old child has good grammar), let's just have fun!
╰───────────────────────────•✧•───────────────────────────╯
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