Active [frontier] When stories abound, Legends will get you.

[DarkKitsune]

This roleplay is a part of the Isekai hell community! If you are interested or want to learn more click here! [Advanced rules] will be loosely in play during combat and narration posts should be up every Tuesday this roleplay is intended to last two months.

CHARACTERS:
Maxxob - Sir Edwin Stormcrest?
Voider - Darin
Mephisto - Mephisto
Kris Rebel - Marraine
—
At the edge of the outskirts of Ryke bordering the edges of the Republic was a small village with houses made out of pine wood the roofs were built circularly with the tip of the roofs sticking straight up. In the village odd decorations were strung along the different houses some decorations looked like skulls of various creatures. Some were pieces of painted parchment hanging and on the outside of the doors of each house were pumpkins with various kinds of carvings on the fronts of the pumpkins with different colored fires illuminating the nighttime from them. Beastkin and Humans young and old hung out in the middle of the village sharing what seemed to be different kinds of pumpkin-flavored foods like pumpkin pie, pumpkin curry, and pumpkin soup— if they weren’t pumpkin-flavored then it was just dozens of orange foods. After the food was exchanged one of the adults said.

“Gather around! It’s story time everyone!” ​

 

[Maxxob]

Sir Edwin Stormcrest?

​

Titles
[Human - Mundane], [Noble Ryke Baronet] C, [Apprentice Lancer], Knight [Educated] Color - #0E0101

DarkKitsune Voider Mephisto Kris Rebel

After the curious and deadly encounter in the forest near Ryken, the black knight rode, without no specific place in mind. Even then, his objective was clear, with his bloodlust simmering just beneath the surface: he spoiled for power and power alone. With the silent gallop of his destrier, he would eventually come upon a village near the border with the Republic.

Behind his helmet, his eyes narrowed, taking the bizarre architecture of the place, which was accompanied by odd decoration. I wonder what this is all about... maybe some celebration of carnage? Those were his first thoughts, his warhorse galloping closer and entering the village. The very center of it was eventually be reached, the hollow gaze of his horned helmet being place upon the humans and beastkin who were in the middle of the village. "What place is this?" The rumbling, low tone escaped the openings of his helmet, towards the villagers as he stood tall on his stallion, three-pronged spear held firmly in his right hand.

 

[Mephisto]

Titles:

[Fae, Mundane], Text Colors: #ffcf30, #e60606

The strange town spared no expense in the decoration, which attracted all manner of strange folk to the hamlet. With each skull, with each pumpkin, the more a certain fellow felt at home. Despite all of the charm, eyes around him followed his movements with a certain amount of caution.

He hummed to himself, twirling a cane, and moving with a rhythm to his step completely unique to his own mind. He didn't stop, for he had no reason to. He went where the invisible song took him. He walked along the paved stones, bouncing slightly and cavorting with all the grace of a whisper on the wind.

He was altogether strange, truly belonging neither to the village nor its surrounding environment. Strange, strange, and stranger still he continued along his chosen path.

When the crier called for attention, the ghostly traveler turned his ear as if he heard the chime of a dinner bell. Stories! Wondrous tales, and fanciful fantasies! He spun on his heel, following the sound regardless of where it came from. The sensation of a distinct autumn flavor gathered throughout his senses, arresting his mind in the throes of the great winter harvest.

“How… lovely,” he traced his hair with his hand, keeping it from going too far back with an errant twitch in his wrist.

Once he arrived, he settled into the crowd as if he belonged there. His lips curled upward, his dark eyes darting here and there with their gold pupils scanning faces and expressions. He simply waited, fascinated by anything and everything.

 

[Voider]

Darin​

​

Equipped Titles: [Beast], [Adept Marksman], [Sentry], [Ryken Adventurer F], [Marsh Marching]​

---

A lizardman with reddish-orange scales, adorned with a brown coat and with a musket slung on his shoulder, slowly walked along into the village, tail lightly flicking behind him. The beastman's eyes scanned the settlement, observing his new surroundings, with facial features drawn in a neutral expression. After the recent ordeals of the Gloomhold Swamp, finding such a cozy looking place was a pleasant reprieve. The architecture was something he'd not yet seen anywhere else, and the food smelled delicious; though the carved pumpkins and fires reminded him of a place that was now a lifetime ago...

Sighing, Darin's eyes turned to the people of the village, glancing at the various beastkin & humans strewn about. He caught sight of a couple of figures who did not seem to belong, likely outsiders just as he. However, Darin's gaze eventually fell to the food being shared in the center of the settlement, and his curiosity convinced him to take a closer look.

Approaching one of the residents who didn't appear to be immediately busy, Darin spoke. "Greetings, I could not help but take an interest in this apparent feast. Would it be shared with those who are not residents of this village? If not, I would be willing to purchase one of these goods." Darin couldn't recall having anything pumpkin flavored since his arrival in Ryke, and with this most likely being his only opportunity for a long while, certainly spending a little money to indulge in it wouldn't hurt.

...

Afterwards, Darin was about to set off to locate an inn, when he heard the call that it was "story time". Seeing as he hadn't anything else to do, and he'd already partaken in the food, he decided he would give it a listen. Walking towards the gathering, Darin stood just outside of the main crowd; close enough to hear the story, but just far away enough so that he could leave without attracting much attention.

 

[Kris Rebel]

Mirraine

Mentions: DarkKitsune Maxxob Mephisto Voider
Titles: [Mundane Fae], [Isekai]
Color: #808080
​

Mirraine walked through the curious village while sipping through a straw some "jungle juice" drink that a tipsy bald dark-skinned man poured for her from a large barrel with a laugh at the village entrance. She looked around curiously with excitement in her eyes, thinking: Ooh, is there some festival happening here? All these pumpkins and skulls... This is scary! But also feels... familiar. Shaking off the odd feeling of deja vu, Mirraine continued pacing around the village, observing the decorations and the cheery village folk. The commotion in the village centre attracted Mirraine: Are they having some kind of party here? How lovely! There could be some fun to be had! With a smile widening on her face and her chalk-pale cheeks getting a slight rosy tint (could be that jungle juice?) Mirraine walked towards the crowd.

Everybody seemed to be obsessed with pumpkin-derived foods and drinks and seemed to have fun, which caused another wave of odd nostalgia rush through Mirraine, perhaps triggering some lost memories from one of her countless lives. Some kind of knight in black armour rode past her on a horse, inquiring about the village from the locals. Mirraine looked at him from below, slurping on her drink through a straw, telling the big man: "Wow you are scary!"

She noticed a couple of other travellers who seemed to be not from around here with the corner of her eye. A fae and a lizardman. The fae looked similar to Mirraine with his pale cold skin, piquing her interest. Though his haircut did seem to be too much. "Phew, at least I am not the only tourist here, won't make me stand out too much. On the other hand, would I mind if I did? Hah!

Some local announced story time to everyone, which made Mirraine almost jolt with excitement, as she slurped a big gulp of the jungle juice and stomped around a bit in anticipation, joyfully exclaiming: "Oh yes, storytime, please! Tell me all the curious secrets of your people!"

 

[Ersatra]

Dione Galanis


Dione trudged through the dense forest, her footsteps heavy with exhaustion. She had been wandering the wilds for nearly a week, camping under the stars and surviving on whatever meager provisions she could find. The ache in her muscles had grown familiar, but she kept moving, driven by the need to find shelter and a way to earn some money. As she emerged from the thick underbrush, she spotted a faint glow in the distance. With renewed hope, she quickened her pace, brushing aside low-hanging branches as she made her way toward the light.

When she finally broke through the last line of trees, she stumbled upon a small village nestled at the edge of the outskirts of Ryke, bordering the edges of the Republic. The sight before her was both unexpected and strangely enchanting. The houses, made from sturdy pine wood, had roofs built in a circular shape, with the tips curving upward like pointed hats. Odd decorations hung between the houses—skulls of various creatures and pieces of painted parchment fluttering in the breeze.

Dione’s eyes widened as she noticed the pumpkins outside every door, each carved with intricate designs—some with fierce, snarling faces, others with whimsical, almost comical expressions. What was even more surprising were the fires within these pumpkins, burning in shades of blue, green, and purple, casting an eerie, yet beautiful glow across the village. The colorful flames danced in the darkness, illuminating the night with a surreal, almost magical light. It was quite similar to what one might expect to see at Halloween yet, different. Somehow.

As she walked further into the village, the air was filled with the rich, warm scent of spices. In the center of the village, a group of Beastkin and Humans, young and old, were gathered together, sharing what appeared to be a feast. She could see tables laden with a variety of pumpkin-flavored foods—pumpkin pie with golden, flaky crusts, steaming bowls of pumpkin curry, and pumpkin soup with swirls of cream. There were even dishes she couldn't recognize, all in varying shades of orange. If the food wasn’t pumpkin-flavored, it seemed to be colored in vivid hues of orange, adding to the peculiar theme.

Curiosity sparked within her. She watched as the villagers laughed and shared their meals, children chasing each other with carved gourds in their hands, while elders exchanged stories over cups of what looked like pumpkin-spiced ale. The scene was almost surreal, like stepping into another world entirely—a feeling she was becoming increasingly familiar with.

Dione’s stomach growled, reminding her of her own hunger. She realized she hadn’t had a proper meal in days, her supplies dwindling as she traveled. As she moved closer, she considered how she might introduce herself to these people, whether they would be kind enough to offer her food or a place to rest. But as she observed their warm camaraderie and the festive atmosphere, she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this strange village at the edge of the wilds could be the haven she was looking for—a place to find her footing in this new world.

Gathering her courage, she took a deep breath and stepped forward, ready to make her presence known. The smell of pumpkin and spices filled her senses as she approached, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tentative smile tug at her lips. She was still a stranger in a strange land, but perhaps here, in this little village on the border of the Republic, she could find a place to belong—even if only for a night.

With a story being shared, Dione simply stood by. Listening, watching, and waiting for a chance to ask for some food. Or to be offered some.

DarkKitsune Kris Rebel Voider Mephisto Maxxob​

 

[DarkKitsune]

“Oh, Visitors? Welcome, welcome!”

Spoke the Timber wolf beast, some of the younger beasts and humans that had gathered around for stories looked at the new comers curiously, a fox-kin walked up to Mirraine tilting her head at the fae and giving a wave. It seemed the child wasn’t able to speak. This had been a calmer reaction then the bunny who shouted at Edwin.

“War! It’s the horse of war!”

Before promptly hiding behind a human kid who seemed roughly the same age. The wolf spoke again.

“Kids, gather back around! This is no way to treat guests!”

The kids listened though it ended with the fox kicking a pebble from the dirt while the Wolf answered Darin’s question.

“The food is free! You do not need to be a resident visitors are rare around these parts. Having new arrivals might as well be a celebration all on their own! My name is Kain, Tonight is a Celebration in order to honor another year of our village’s survival! Take as much food as you all can help and gather around! I’ll be telling a story then we’ll be moving onto some mini games for the kiddos!”

He gestured towards the food before Kain apologizing to Edwin.

“Sorry about the kid. last years story ended up detailing four characters wrecking havoc on the world upon the world because the kids were insistent on a horror story. It’s odd because you don’t really look like how War was depicted.”

Something would seem amiss about the village the way it functioned, maybe it would be the way it celebrated things or perhaps it’s something else. Kain sat down with a book.

—
Voider Maxxob Ersatra Mephisto Kris Rebel

Spoiler: OoC:

Feel free to interact with each others characters! Or sit down and listen or investigate! Or whatever would be in character.

Depending on behaviors this round and the next will determine if combat is kicked into gear.

 

[Ersatra]

Dione Galanis


Dione watched the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and curiosity. The village was alive with a strange energy, one that seemed both welcoming and slightly unnerving. As she approached, a Timber wolf beastkin greeted them warmly, his voice carrying a note of genuine hospitality. However, the tranquillity was quickly broken when a small bunnykin suddenly shouted, before dashing behind a human child of similar age, using them as a shield. Dione’s eyes widened slightly at the outburst, unsure of what to make of it, but the wolf beastkin quickly intervened. The cause of the outburst, well it was a man. A man atop a horse.

The man—Edwin, she overheard someone say—cut an imposing figure, his presence starkly out of place in this quaint, eerie little village. The polished steel of his armor glinted in the light of the colorful fires flickering within the carved pumpkins, each step of his horse resonating with a weight that matched the tension Dione suddenly felt in the air.

What was a warrior like him doing here, in a village that seemed more focused on celebrating survival than preparing for battle? Dione couldn’t help but wonder. His armor looked as though it had seen countless battles, yet he was here, alone, in the middle of nowhere. Was he simply passing through, or did he have some purpose here that she couldn’t yet discern? The thought made her uneasy, though she couldn’t deny that there was something intriguing about him as well—something that made her curious to know his story.

Her attention shifted briefly as a small fox-kin child approached, tilting her head at Mirraine, a fae woman dressed in black. Mirraine’s gothic appearance, with her dark clothing and otherworldly aura, only added to the strangeness of the village. Dione watched as the child waved silently at the fae, unable to speak but clearly fascinated by her. The interaction was gentle, almost endearing, a contrast to the earlier shout from a bunny-kin who had mistaken Edwin for some figure of war from a horror story they’d heard.

But as much as the fae woman intrigued her, it was Edwin’s presence that kept Dione’s thoughts spinning. Why would someone so heavily armored be alone in such a place? Was he fleeing from something, or was he perhaps a wandering knight on some secret mission?

Dione’s musings were interrupted when she noticed a lizard person eyeing the food with the same interest she herself felt. His musket slung over his shoulder, Darin seemed equally out of place in this peaceful setting, though his focus on the feast suggested simpler motivations. Like Dione, he was likely just seeking sustenance and maybe a brief respite from whatever journey had brought him here.

As Kain, the Timber wolf beastkin who had welcomed them, urged the villagers to treat the newcomers with respect and invited them all to join in the festivities, Dione couldn’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and wariness. Something about this village felt… off. The way they celebrated survival with such fervor, the strange decorations, and the odd mix of visitors all hinted at a deeper story—a story she wasn’t sure she was ready to uncover just yet.

But for now, with her stomach growling and exhaustion weighing heavily on her, Dione decided to join the feast. She would keep her eyes and ears open, listening to the stories and watching the interactions, all while trying to piece together the puzzle that was this village—and the strangers who had gathered here. As she moved to grab herself some food, she couldn’t help but glance again at Edwin, her mind still swirling with questions. Who was he really, and why had fate brought him to this strange little village at the edge of the world?

As she went about deciding what to eat she addressed the lizard man beside her with a soft smile "It's quite tough to pick something to eat when there's so much to choose from ey? Dione, it's a pleasure to meet you..." Letting her sentence hang, Dione allowed the Lizardman to introduce himself if he felt obliged.

Though just as the lizardman was about to introduce himself something clicked with Dione. Turning her attention to the nearest resident she asked "This horror story. The horse of war, was it accompanied by three other horsemen?"
DarkKitsune Kris Rebel Voider Mephisto Maxxob​

 

[Maxxob]

Sir Edwin Stormcrest?

​

Titles
[Human - Mundane], [Noble Ryke Baronet] C, [Apprentice Lancer], Knight [Educated] Color - #0E0101

DarkKitsune Voider Mephisto Kris Rebel Ersatra

The dark knight took a moment to allow his azure eyes to wander around those present in the middle of the village, quick to notice that there were some others who seemed to be a little out of place as well. Or at least, that was what his intuition told him.

First, he ended up catching the sight of a lizard beastkin, Darin, looking at him with in appraisal, noticing the musket slung over his shoulder. His instructor had told him about such weapons… A beast wielding Widersian weaponry was certainly a sight to behold.

Then there was a man of pale skin, Mephisto, walking with a cane in hand, who quick to join the villagers gathered in the center for the festivities. Was he that interested in hearing about the stories which were promised by the town crier?

His attention was broken, as he heard a female voice coming from close to him. Turning his helmet towards the short, black-haired girl, slurping something which she held in her hands, a grave, low chuckle left openings of his helmet. “Do you think your instincts are right? Or are they playing tricks on you?” The baronet asked her, undeniable mirth accompanying his tone, leaning a bit to the side, towards her, as he spoke.

Lastly, his gaze drifted somewhere else, to another woman present. Her long, golden hair remembered him of his sister, but that is where their physical similarities began and ended. Or at least, that is what he could gather, his memories beginning to become slightly hazy. For now, he couldn’t gather much from Dione, yet her gazes towards him have not gone unnoticed.

The black helmet changed its direction to Timber, as he welcomed him and the other visitors to the village. Edwin didn’t say anything to it, but the bunny girl, who shouted at him, earned an unseen smirk under the pitch-black, closed-helmet. “War, mmm? That is certainly something to strive for.” The warhorse would neigh, black sabatons poking its sides and making the animal gallop closer.

Eventually, the hooves of Edwin’s destrier would come to a complete halt, a few feet from the human child, who served as a shield for the bunny one. With a quick movement, the black knight was off his horse, his armor letting out a resounding clunk as his feet connected to the ground.

Listening to Kain explain the auspicious occasion, his azure gaze would sweep over the food that is being offered, all containing pumpkin, one of the many produces enjoyed by the peasantry. Despite the alluring smell to some, or their very looks, the baronet didn’t feel inclined not even a single bit to join in their feast.

“While the apologies are accepted, my question remains unanswered: what place is this?” He repeated himself, this time around with a sterner, more demanding tone. To those with a keen eye or perception, they would notice that the grip of the gauntlet which held the shaft of the three-pronged lance tightened.

And then it relaxed, as his free hand moved to his helmet, unclasping the fastening and removing it.

​

“Regardless, my interest is piqued. How did the War looked like?” He asked, his now revealed azure eyes piercing towards Kane with an intense gaze.

 

[Voider]

Darin​

​

Equipped Titles: [Beast], [Adept Marksman], [Sentry], [Ryken Adventurer F], [Marsh Marching]

Mentions: Maxxob , Mephisto , Kris Rebel . Interactions: Kain ( DarkKitsune ), Dione ( Ersatra ).​

---

As one of the local children shouted, Darin's attention was brought to the black, heavily armored knight. He caught a glimpse of the armored individual earlier, but with the other visitors and many residents around, Darin hadn't taken a closer look until now. The man certainly appeared to be a capable fighter and formidable force, even if the armor was excessively foreboding. Someone to keep an eye on.

Darin also caught sight of a couple of other interesting individuals, though unlike with the mounted knight, he couldn't yet acquire a steady view of them through the groups of residents celebrating.

Turning to the side, Darin faced the Timber Wolf who was addressing him; he seemed to be in quite an optimistic mood from his tone and words. "My name is Darin, thank you for letting me know. If this food is as good as it smells, I am sure I will enjoy it greatly." He said with a light laugh. As Darin picked up a roll, which felt like it held -likely pumpkin- filling, the edges of his lips curved slightly downwards as he addressed Kain. "Ahem, Mr. Kain; if you do not mind my asking, I noticed you mentioned another year of your village's survival. Has it been under serious threat in the past or present?"

Sinking his teeth into the roll, Darin silently reveled in the taste as he listened to Kain's response. The flavor of the sweet pumpkin filling, softened by the fluffy bread; he'd only just realized how much he missed delicacies like this. While the towns and guildhalls Darin had travelled through provided good, hardy sustenance, it wasn't nearly the same as food made purely for the sake of being enjoyable food. Alas, Darin hadn't the time nor money to spare in his journey of becoming a talented marksman...

Swallowing, Darin began to scan the rest of the options, wondering what he'd try after finishing the roll; he was unlikely to have a chance to taste everything, so he'd have to choose. However, Darin's ponderings were interrupted when a human woman approached, also looking over the feast before them as she introduced herself. She was surely another visitor like he, not looking the part of the village; no weapons on her that he could see, so either not a fighter, or perhaps an unarmed one.

Regardless, her demeanor was friendly enough, so Darin responded in kind with a nod. "Indeed. The name is Darin, a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Dione." He'd have said more, but Dione's attention quickly switched to something else. With a barely audible "hmph", Darin's own focus was turning back to the food, until he heard what the woman asked a nearby local. With a blink, his head raised from studying the feast to instead glance between Dione & the local. "That..." He paused, considering how to word it inconspicuously. "...sounds familiar to you as well?" Though as Darin's initial surprise faded, his eyes narrowed.

 

[Mephisto]

Titles:

[Fae, Mundane], Text Colors: #ffcf30, #e60606

| Voider | Maxxob | Ersatra | DarkKitsune |
​

---

The golden eyes of the fae creature known to only a few as Mephisto flickered, his permanent and carnivorous smile curling ever wider as the darks of his eyes moved this way and that. He seemed to hone in on the idea of horror stories more than anything. The food, although tempting, didn't so much as put a dent into his malign attentions.

He peeled away from the crowd, a lithe and quick individual that suddenly stuck out with his intimidating height and figure. He seemed more comfortable this way, being mobile and unpredictable. He took to the belly of an empty cart, its cargo of pumpkins dispersed equally into a display of the divine orange gourds.

“Horror! Awful, spiteful, sinister horror!”

He held his arms wide, intent on gathering a small crowd for his showmanship. He would snicker and cackle, his coattails fluttering as he moved effortlessly across his small makeshift stage.

“Tis the season, after all. The last harvest has come, time to shut the doors and bar the windows. Keep them locked tight, lest the foul Skin Stealers come in the night!”

He took a bow and began to set a rhythm for himself using his cane and feet only to stop and lean down, attempting to completely ensnare the attentions of his audience with his vibrant golden eyes.

“Tales will tell trees groan when they are near

You'll only hear about them once a year

But heed my words if you are wise, my dear

For if you don't, and you are awake to hear

Their dreadful howls… then it's too late!

The Skin Stealers are near!!” ​

Now that he had an audience, he would attempt to cast "It's Showtime!!". Shadowy figures would emerge to join the living as he peeled back the skin of his face to reveal a bleached and bare skull underneath. The sharp fangs were there to see, unable to be hidden by things such as lips or flesh. His hollow sockets would glare straight through whomever dared to watch him.

Even if this failed to spark terror, he'd continue as if it were business as usual by dusting his hands off on his coat.

“Long ago, a farmer and his family from Ryke decided to try and make a better life for themselves in a more fertile valley. But, strangely, all of the roads were closed for one reason or another. Rather than wait for the commotion to clear, the father took it upon himself to steer their ox cart up the secluded mountain path,”

He walked his fingers in midair, mimicking how high the family went.

“Further and further they went, the man and his wife and daughter. The path curved and branched and wound away in all sorts of directions. When they tried to turn around, an avalanche blocked the way. So they went forward… until,”

He clutched the head of his cane, attempting to light a small illusory flame. In the same breath, he'd also dim the lights around him in order to set the proper mood.

“Night fell, a dreadful night, and they had to make camp amidst a heavy snowstorm. The daughter became ill with fever and the farmer's wife blamed him for their growing misfortune. They lost the ox to wolves, most of their supplies to the treacherous road, and now they seemed destined to die miserable deaths. That is… until,”

The flame would turn from a warm orange to a ghoulish green with the snap of his fingers.

“A woman appeared from the blinding white. She offered the farmer the chance to save his daughter and wife from the storm and the misery. He agreed that any price would be worth such a kindness,”

His smile widened.

“That is when the woman approached his wife and daughter and stole the breath from their bodies. They fell lifeless, and he immediately grabbed a weapon to strike the woman with, but she turned and faced him,”

Mephisto cackled.

“She laughed at him! She laughed as he ran down the mountain. It took him hours, his lungs burned, but he could still hear her as if she were right behind him! He ran and ran, fire in his legs, until he found a village and collapsed. He was taken in by the apothecary and healed, never speaking of what truly happened. He blamed it all on a bear! But as he made his new fortune, bought a new mansion, and tried to live a new life… he never remarried,”

He shook his head, getting to his favorite part.

“Every winter, when the pumpkin harvest ended, he would stare out from his bedroom window. He kept all of his doors locked. He kept all of his windows sealed. He never dared go outside even once. For each time he looked out his bedroom window, he saw his wife and daughter staring back at him from the woods. They would always stare at him, as if inviting him to join them. Even as he aged, they stayed the same. He dared only once to go to the front door to oblige them. Only once. For when he went to unlock it…”

In a final show of theatrics, he would abuse the further depths of his ability to peel his face back again. In place of a skull was a gnashing wolf, growling and slavering and hungry. He replaced it all to finish his story.

“They were not his beloved family! How could they be? He struck a deal with the woman of the mountain, a witch most foul! She stole their breath, and now they were shape-shifting revenants hungry for the flesh of whoever invited them in from the cold! The farmer lived in fear until the day his memory began to fade. Of course, in his senility, he forgot to lock the front door one night…”

The torchlight from his cane disappeared in a gasp, leaving the audience in total darkness as he howled with laughter. He was only ever eager to perfect his stories and nothing else. Whether or not the audience enjoyed them was irrelevant - he lived for the show itself!

 

[Speed]

Faker

Titles: Isekai [Mundane], Human [Mundane], Attentive Student [Grade E]
Class: Striker
​

Faker stood just outside the small village he temporarily called home, his black cloak billowing gently in the fading light. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his fragmented armor glinted in the dimming sun. Several villagers had urged him to wait until morning before setting out, warning him about the dangers lurking in the wilderness. But Faker had waved them off, determined to start his adventure right then and there.

"The time for action is now. Not tomorrow. I appreciate your concerns, but I, Faker, must forge my own path," he had said with an exaggerated air of importance, ignoring the concerned glances exchanged between the villagers.

And so, as the sun began its descent, Faker wandered into the wilderness, unsure where he was going but confident he would figure it out along the way.

Hours passed, and the initial excitement of his journey wore off. The forest around him was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and distant animal calls. As night began to fall, Faker muttered under his breath, "Ah, yes... nothing like the majestic silence of nature. Just me... and the wilderness... and, apparently, no sense of direction."

He sighed, realizing that maybe, just maybe, asking the villagers for directions wouldn't have hurt. His stomach growled in agreement. "It's fine," he reassured himself, trying to keep up the serious tone. "Camping under the stars... yes, this shall be the humble beginning of my grand tale."

But just as he resigned himself to a night of hunger and solitude, a faint, familiar scent reached his nose. Faker froze in place, sniffing the air. His eyes widened.

"Is that... food?" he whispered to himself, almost in disbelief. His stomach growled again, louder this time. He couldn't help it, a single tear rolled down his cheek. "I have found my true calling. I must follow this scent, for it has chosen me."

Driven by hunger, Faker abandoned any sense of caution and followed the trail of the smell, the promise of food guiding him through the trees. Eventually, he stumbled upon a small, festive village. Lights flickered from carved pumpkins, and the atmosphere felt both warm and strange, like a mix between Halloween and Thanksgiving. The source of the scent was close; so close, he could practically taste it.

His stomach rumbled loudly as he spotted a table laden with food in the distance. For a brief moment, his composure slipped, and he wiped the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand. "No, Faker. You are a man of standards. You cannot simply charge in and devour whatever you see. That’s what amateurs do," he muttered to himself, trying to maintain his air of cool indifference.

He hung back, observing the villagers and the visitors arriving. Some were clearly more interesting than others; an imposing black knight, a lizardman with a rifle slung over his shoulder, but they didn’t hold Faker’s attention for long. His gaze shifted to a wolf beastkin who appeared to be welcoming everyone.

"At least visitors are allowed... but I must remain vigilant," Faker thought, eyeing the carved pumpkins and flickering candles. "For all I know, this could be some kind of sacrificial feast. I won’t be tricked so easily."

His paranoid musings were cut short when the wolf beastkin called out, “The food is free!”

"Free?" Faker repeated, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe. His instincts kicked in. Without another word, he dashed forward, covering the distance to the food table faster than he ever thought possible [Used Fast E]. Before he knew it, he was seated in the middle of the feast, helping himself to the pumpkin-based dishes as if he'd been a part of the village his entire life.

"Ah, yes," he said aloud, trying to sound calm and composed even as he stuffed his face. "This is... exactly what I expected. A warm welcome... as it should be for someone of my stature."

He bit into a pumpkin pie, barely managing to hold back a groan of delight. "This... is a delicacy. Truly, a meal fit for someone of my... caliber." Faker glanced around, making sure no one noticed the speed with which he was inhaling the food. "One must enjoy the finer things with grace and... dignity," he mumbled, his mouth full.

As he devoured a second helping of roasted pumpkin, Faker couldn’t help but think that, despite the questionable surroundings and strange villagers, this was the best meal he'd had since his rebirth.

"This... is truly the start of my grand adventure," he mused, taking another bite. "And I shall face it with bravery, determination, and, by the gods, is that pumpkin bread?"

With that, Faker grabbed another plate and continued his feast, entirely content to let his guard down, at least for the moment. After all, even the greatest of heroes needed to eat.
Ability Cooldowns:

• E-Grade Cooldown 0/1

 

[Kris Rebel]

Mirraine

Mentions: DarkKitsune Maxxob Mephisto Voider Ersatra Speed
Titles: [Mundane Fae], [Isekai]
Color: #808080
​

Mirraine laughed as the knight clad in black jokingly questioned her statement, replying: "Absolutely, categorically and unquestionably scary! Please don't reap my soul tonight, it is very dear and valuable to me, hahaha!" Mirraine then took another big sip of her jungle juice through the straw and looked towards the other villagers.

A beastkin kin with foxy features approached and waved at Mirraine curiously, making her gasp in adoration as she bent over towards him to be on the same eye-level with the kid, saying: "Aren't you the most adorable of all the creatures in this land! Hi, my name is Mirraine! I wish I had some gift for you, but unfortunately, this juice I have is not good for kids." Realising that the little one couldn't speak, Mirraine moved a bit closer into a whisper distance, whispering to the kid in a sisterly manner with a big warm smile on her face: "If you want to tell me anything, share some secrets or good jokes with big sister, just hold my hand and we can have a little secret chat anytime!" She gave the kid a little wink and extended her hand gently. [If the kid accepts and holds her hand, she would use Telepathy to hear what they have to say without trying to read any other thoughts, and reply back telepathically].

As the kid ran back with the others at the request of the wolf-kin, she took another big sip of her jungle juice, feeling the warmth of the well-disguised deathmix of booze spread across her body into her cheeks. The peculiar Fae with similar features to Mirraine started gathering around a crowd for a well-performed horror story. Mirraine laughed and clapped to the Fae as he wrapped it up with an impressive light trick and devilish laughter. "Those dastardly skin stealers, am I right? No respect to people's privacy and identities." - Mirraine exclaimed while laughing and clapping.

After enjoying the show brought on by Mephisto, Mirraine walked towards the food and drink stalls where quite a crowd gathered, including both the locals and some of the travellers. Among them were a lizardman with a musket, a pretty blond woman and a very important man devouring food at incredibly high speed. The sight of Faker stuffing himself with all the food made Mirraine feel things she couldn't totally comprehend. At least it definitely made her chuckle. Mirraine approached the group of travellers, slurping the last drops of her jungle juice through the straw with a loud sound. She bowed lightly to the fellow foreigners and said with a friendly smile: "Greetings, fellas! I'm Mirraine. How do you like the village so far? I find it fascinating! Seems so fun!" - Mirraine then extended her hand with an empty jungle juice cup. The cup was huge, a litre if not more. From it, one could easily sense an incredibly strong smell of the deathliest alcohol mixes known to land, with some fruity masking. "Have you seen if they serve this here too? A most wonderful beverage, yet I ran out just now, hehe..." - Mirraine asked Darin and Dione, and perhaps Faker if he could hear anything over the sound of his food. Mirraine's innocent smile was topped by a rosy tint on her chalk-pale cheeks.

 

[DarkKitsune]

A blonde-haired human faced Dione, seemingly tired her pale green eyes observed the woman curious before answering her question.

“No, it was accompanied by two Famine and Death, The story went like this: there was once a village hidden from society, it stuck to itself its very community tied together by a strong bond then mysteriously three villagers died of a mysterious illness the villagers saddened cremated the deceased and gave them as proper as a ritual rite as their situations could handle, just a mere month later three figures showed up on horses their faces looked like those of the deceased with burn marks scattered on their faces as well the exceptions that were notable at first glance beside the horses was them wearing unfamiliar armor nothing similar to those of the surrounding countries which the small village bordered. First one horseman circled the village, and attacks followed suit and another Horseman followed the attack on the village costing the lives of many. The first horseman who rode a black horse was named ‘War’ and the the second one that circled the village had a brown and white horse was named ‘Famine’ The attack not only rendered several civilians injured and some dead but also trampled many of their crops after the attack ended the third horseman rode in on a white horse that had a odd black carriage this one would be named ‘death’.”

Kain blinked at Edwin and Darin’s questions seemingly dazed.

“Survival of our settlement has only been here seven or so years not much longer than Ryke. It’s hard to believe it’s been seven years already.”

Notably, this would fail to answer either of their questions. If one of them paid enough attention they would notice how off the timeline seemed. Also seemed way too well off to have been an accident as Ryke has been standing for 50 years. The night grew darker and the darkness seemed to loom over the town with a heavy feeling, suffocating almost like something made a crushing wave of pressure fall upon the village this would not be noticed by the villagers, in the sky it was empty no flickering stars or even the moons hung visibly in the night sky. Mephisto’s performance had not been noticed by many oddly enough despite how energetic it had been, a performance that demanded attention only received from the blonde whom Dione had spoken to earlier, in came the next noticeable oddity that the other villagers besides her had stood still, not seeming to even breathe until the performance came to it’s close. The woman clapped at the performance and proceeded to walk up to Mephisto. Not with praise but with a warning.

“Leave this village before the sunrises. There is no morning.”

For such an odd thing to say it would have in normal villages garnered the attention of the villagers, but her warning to Mephisto gained no such attention for the villagers it had almost seemed like it had fallen on deaf ears.

Then Kain greeted Faker.

“Another visitor? Welcome! Welcome! What’s your name?”

Kain had asked, oddly somehow more welcoming than he was to the others. The Fox kid grabbed Mirraine’s hand however seemingly dazed tilted her head then snapped back out of it. Mirraine would hear the fox beast's first thought.

‘Weird…’

Followed by the thought after Mirraine’s interaction with Mephisto.

‘Skin…stealers?’


—
Mephisto Maxxob Voider Speed Kris Rebel Ersatra​

 

[Speed]

Faker

Titles: Isekai [Mundane], Human [Mundane], Attentive Student [Grade E]
Class: Striker
​

After devouring the pumpkin-rich delicacies at breakneck speed, Faker finally slowed down. His mind, once clouded by hunger and fatigue, began to clear. With the haze lifted, he could now take in his surroundings more fully. The warm glow of candlelight, the festive decorations, the lively chatter of people; everything felt a little less dreamlike and a lot more real.

As he shoveled in the last bites of a hearty stew, Faker’s eyes wandered across the gathering. He could now easily tell the difference between the locals and the travelers. The villagers had a familiar ease in their movements, while the visitors, like himself, had an air of curiosity, mingling cautiously, scanning the scene just as he had.

"Mirraine, huh?" he muttered, having caught the name from a nearby conversation. Faker tried to maintain his stoic demeanor; he wasn’t the type to interrupt just for the sake of it. Yet, a part of him felt like mingling. He was in a new world, and making connections could prove useful. But barging into someone else’s conversation? That might come off as rude.

"Best to observe," he mumbled to himself, taking a slow sip of the thick pumpkin soup. "A man such as myself shouldn't just... force his way in. No, no... I must bide my time. To speak, only when spoken to."

And, as if on cue, Kain, the wolf beastkin who had earlier announced the free food approached him. "Another visitor? Welcome! Welcome! What’s your name?" The beastkin's tone was warm and welcoming.

Faker straightened up, crumbs from the baked goods he’d devoured sprinkled across his chest, and remnants of soup still lingering at the corner of his mouth. He cleared his throat and stood, clasping one hand over the other in a respectful gesture. Bowing slightly, he greeted the beastkin with as much composure as he could muster.

"My name," he began, his tone serious, "is Faker. A simple vagabond, wandering where the winds of fate take me." He gave a slight nod, his expression grave despite the fact he was still swallowing the last bits of food. "I extend my thanks to you and your village for the hospitality. It is... much appreciated."

Faker hesitated, then added, "I must ask, what may I call you, good sir? You seem to hold some authority here, and it is only fitting that I show proper respect." His stomach, though full, let out a small growl in protest, as if still hungry despite the feast. He quickly pressed a hand to his midsection, hoping the sound wasn’t too obvious.

Absorbed in his succulent meal and the conversation with the Kain that followed, Faker missed the subtle but eerie shift in the atmosphere. The night had deepened into an unnatural darkness, a heavy, suffocating presence falling over the village unnoticed by its inhabitants. Above, the sky was a vast, starless void - moonless and empty - yet Faker remained blissfully unaware.
Ability Cooldowns:

• E-Grade Cooldown 0/1

 

[Ersatra]

Dione Galanis


Dione listened intently to the local as they recounted the eerie tale of the horsemen. As the woman spoke the pieces began to fall into place in Dione's mind. She noted the vivid descriptions: three figures with the faces of the dead, their burned features, and unfamiliar armor. But as the woman mentioned the names—War, Famine, and Death—something felt slightly off.

Dione's brow furrowed as she processed the details. War on a black horse? Famine with a brown and white one? And finally Death, riding in with a strange black carriage. The whole story was unsettling, but something tugged at the back of her mind, like a half-forgotten memory trying to surface. Then it hit her—the first horseman in this story wasn’t War.

She turned to Darin, who was eyeing her curiously after his initial surprise. "Actually," she began, her voice thoughtful as she pieced together her own understanding, "I think the first horseman wasn’t War. If the story speaks of an illness that took the first three villagers, it’s more likely the first horseman represents Plague. That would explain why they were the first to appear—striking before the others arrived to destroy the village. The sickness would have weakened them, and the burn marks... maybe they’re a symbol of the illness or the cremation."

"But yes, the story does sound familiar to me. It reminds me of ancient myths and omens I’ve read about before—war, plague, famine, and death all riding together, their arrival spelling doom for those unfortunate enough to encounter them..."

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting toward the storyteller in the distance. Mephisto was currently spinning another horrifying tale, though from the sparse crowd gathered around him, it seemed his audience wasn’t all that captivated. "And speaking of familiar stories..." Dione continued, her tone turning thoughtful, "The one that oddball is telling now, I’ve heard a version of it before as well —The Wendigo Ranch. It's a tale about desperation, hunger, and how it can twist people into something monstrous once all hope seems lost."

Dione gave Darin a quick, sidelong glance, wondering what he thought of all this. It felt strange to be discussing these myths with someone who seemed as much an outsider to this village as she was, but then again, everyone in this strange place seemed to carry their own mysteries. Maybe Darin knew more about this place than he let on. Or maybe, like her, he was still trying to piece everything together.
( Voider Mephisto )


As Dione stood lost in thought, reflecting on the familiar yet twisted stories something unexpected pulled her attention. A figure approached the table of food with a speed that seemed impossible for someone of his stature. He was chubby, with a distinctly nerdy look—glasses slightly askew and his shirt rumpled in a way that made him seem more like a high school kid from her old world than anything else. But his speed, his sheer agility, defied everything she knew about such a figure.

Dione blinked, startled, her gaze following the boy as he zipped toward the feast. His rapid movements created a blur that made it hard to believe her own eyes. It was almost surreal—like watching a video game character dash across a screen. How could someone who appeared so average—so human—move with such supernatural grace? For a moment, it felt as if reality had twisted slightly, as if this boy didn’t belong in this world.

A thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. Is he like me?

Her heart quickened as she contemplated the possibility. She knew what it was like to be thrust into this strange world, given powers beyond comprehension by a god from myth. Could he have been chosen by another deity, just like she had been? Perhaps this boy had received a blessing—or maybe a curse—giving him such speed and strength. But by which god? Hermes? And why would they choose someone who seemed so... unassuming?

If so, what purpose did he serve here? Was his presence a coincidence, or was there some larger design at play?

Still watching him, Dione felt a mixture of curiosity and caution. There was no denying that the gods had a strange way of shaping the fates of mortals. In every myth she had ever studied, nothing was ever black and white. She wondered what his story was, and whether their paths were meant to intertwine.
( Speed )


In fact, Dione was still watching the strange boy darting around the food table when a sweet, yet strangely overpowering smell filled her senses. She blinked, startled out of her reverie, and turned to see Mirraine standing before her, extending an absurdly large cup—easily a liter or more—toward her. The fae woman’s innocent smile was framed by the faintest blush on her pale cheeks, the smell of potent alcohol mixing with something fruity lingering in the air.

It took her a moment to process the request, the strong smell of whatever concoction was in that cup distracting her. "Uh, I... haven’t seen anything like that here yet," she said, trying not to let her surprise show too much. She was used to the idea of people indulging in drinks at festivals, but this... this was something else entirely. "Maybe you could ask one of the locals?"

She gave a small, amused smile, though her curiosity about the fae woman only deepened. Mirraine had a mischievous air about her, but there was something strangely charming in the way she approached the situation with such innocence—despite the strength of whatever deadly mix she had been drinking.

Dione glanced at Darin, wondering if he had a better grasp of what was going on. At this point, it felt like the night was only going to get stranger. And stranger did it get.
( Voider Kris Rebel )


As the night deepened, Dione felt an odd, almost oppressive shift in the atmosphere. The air around the village thickened, and a strange heaviness settled over the town. It wasn’t something that could be seen or even clearly defined—it was a feeling. The once festive air now felt stifling, as if some unseen force had cast a weight upon the village, suffocating and palpable.

Dione’s heart began to race, and she glanced around, her senses heightened. Strangely, none of the villagers seemed to notice. They carried on with their laughter, stories, and sharing of food, unaware of the crushing wave of pressure that seemed to roll over the town. It was almost as if they were oblivious to the darkness pressing in.

She looked up, searching the sky for any sign of stars or moons to break the inky blackness, but found nothing. The sky above was unnaturally empty, devoid of the comforting glimmer of stars or the gentle glow of the moon. Just an endless, featureless void stretching out over them. The sight—or rather, the absence of it—sent a chill down her spine.

Instinctively, Dione reached for the small spark of power she carried within her, her eyes shifting to reveal a storm within them, a gift from the lightning that had marked her fate. She wasn’t sure why, but something about the dark, starless sky felt... wrong. Deeply wrong. And she needed answers.

She glanced at Darin, Edwin, and Mirraine, wondering if they, too, sensed it. The weight of the starless sky.
( DarkKitsune Maxxob Kris Rebel Speed Mephisto Voider )


Actions: 1/3

1. Judgement Call - Componentless Magic E, Magic E, Aoe F, Appraisal F, Selective Magic F - Dione borrows Zeus's authority to pass judgment on those around her. Revealing key information about everything in her vicinity should it fail to resist the call. - E Grade Ability, 1 Turn Cooldown. (A 15ft radius field of F grade Appraisal centred on Dione).​

 

[Maxxob]

Sir Edwin Stormcrest?

​

Titles
[Human - Mundane], [Noble Ryke Baronet] C, [Apprentice Lancer], Knight [Educated] Color - #0E0101

DarkKitsune Voider Mephisto Kris Rebel Ersatra Speed

The dark knight caught a blur from the corner of his eyes and, soon enough, another had joined them. His clothing rather odd, but what called his attention the most, was how the newcomer was engorging himself on the food being provided by the villagers. The pale face twisted, in disgust, just like the face of the average civilian who had just witnessed someone's entrails being pulled from their insides and being thrown on the ground would. In fact, the lancer would have rather witnessed the proposed sight, than the one he just had.

His azure gaze would slide towards Mephisto, his ears having picked up quite a good bit from the tale he told. The expression on his pale face returned to neutral. "None can escape their destiny forever, I suppose. Fear is the most insidious mind-killer. To live the rest of your life trembling, with the ghastly hand of desperation gripping your mind and heart... the farmer was long dead." He said with a flat tone, giving only emphasis to the very last word in his sentence. "Nice showmanship, however. Maybe this is just a tough crowd." Adding it, the faintest of smiles appeared on his lips, before disappearing altogether.

With his attention going back to Kain, the beastkin who failed to answer his question not only once, but twice. Instead, all that the baronet got was some strange, unrelated answer, talking about the village's survival and Ryke's foundation. As not only a native of Ryke, but of the nobility, the dark knight knew that the information was incorrect. An icy, azure stare was given towards Kain's direction, probably perceptible for the others. "There seems to be something wrong with your head, peasant." Directing himself at the beastkin, his voice was loud enough to allow others to hear it. "Ryke has been a nation since the beginning of the race-wars, between The See and the East Empire. And the war began 50 years ago." He said those words while closing the remaining distance between him and Kain.

His left hand would dart out, the pointy ends of his gauntlet grasp Kain's shirt, manhandling and pulling the beastkin towards him [Strength C]. "What you might call him?" The baronet's head turned towards Faker, tilting slightly. "A peasant who has clearly forgotten how to treat their betters, that is how you can call him." With a cold tone, his attention drifted back to Kain. "If we were in my domain, you would already have earned yourself some whipping. Maybe ten or so lashes would have refreshed your memory about etiquette." Despite his neutral expression, some vexation was clear on his tone.

The baronet eyes would dart towards the skies, seeing the lack of... well, everything. Neither of the moons could be seen, nor any other astral bodies. The oppressive feeling which hang upon the village was not lost on him, his eyes darted around towards the other newcomers, his gaze meeting Dione's. "Something is amiss in this village." His tone grew graver, the gauntlet finally releasing Kain from its grasp. Without wasting time, the horned helmet found itself back on the black knight's head, the grip on his ebony lance changing, now being held with both hands, as if getting ready for something.

 

[Ersatra]

Dione Galanis


Dione’s eyes tracked the dark knight as he moved, his presence oppressive and commanding, each step echoing with authority. His towering figure loomed over the beastkin, Kain, whose earlier friendly demeanor now seemed at risk under the knight’s icy stare. When the knight’s gauntleted hand shot out, seizing Kain by the shirt and manhandling him with cold ease, Dione felt a surge of anger rise in her chest.

She watched the scene unfold with a distant calm, but her fingers began to twitch, her right hand slowly raising, fingers poised as if holding an invisible gun. Sparks of lightning flickered and arced from her fingertips, crackling in the air as her power built, ready to strike. Her focus was on the knight—his haughty tone, his absolute disdain for the villager, as if Kain was beneath him in every sense. That arrogance sparked something in Dione, a familiar frustration at the way power was often wielded unjustly.

When the knight’s eyes finally darted toward her, meeting her gaze, the oppressive feeling of the night was mirrored in the tension between them. He released Kain, but Dione’s fingertip still hummed with the charged energy of her building lightning. She let it linger for just a moment, the electric crackling intensifying as she stared the dark knight down.

"I agree," Dione said, her voice steady but laced with a quiet threat, dangerous eyes narrowing. "Something is amiss here. But just as something is amiss with this village, it seems the concept of noblesse oblige is lost on you."

The lightning at her fingertip snapped as she lowered her hand slowly, the energy dissipating, but her gaze remained locked on the knight. She didn’t break eye contact, her words hanging in the air like a storm cloud threatening to break. There was a balance of power in the village now—one that could easily tip in either direction.

Dione’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears, the weight of the night bearing down on her, but she stood firm. If this knight thought he could enforce his will so easily, he was about to learn that others in this village carried power, too.
Maxxob

​

 

[Voider]

Darin​

​

Equipped Titles: [Beast], [Adept Marksman], [Sentry], [Ryken Adventurer F], [Marsh Marching]

Mentions: DarkKitsune , Mephisto , Maxxob , Speed , Kris Rebel , Ersatra . Interactions: Kain ( DarkKitsune ), Dione ( Ersatra ), Mirraine ( Kris Rebel ), Edwin ( Maxxob ).​

---

At Kain's non-answer, Darin raised a (non-existent) eyebrow. "Seven years...?" While he was not significantly knowledgeable on this world's history yet, let alone Ryke's specifically, his adventures gave Darin enough information to know that it was certainly far longer than that. His grip on the musket's strap strengthened. Odd...

Turning back to Dione, Darin listened as she explained her thinking on the horsemen. "A logical conclusion, I agree with you Ms. Dione. Weakening the enemy before directly striking, it is typically a sound tactic." He nodded in thought. "I see..." He mentally berated himself for being surprised, assuming the four horsemen legend was unique to Earth; if the village had a three horsemen version, then this was probably just a coincidental similarity, like many others. Regardless, Darin's gaze also turned towards the... well, horrific storytelling being done by another visitor. "A horrible truth to be sure, even without the disturbing tale."

Soon, another woman walked up to them, with a generally black & dark grey appearance, presenting a massive cup. At the stench of alcohol, Darin subtly shied away. "Er... greetings, Ms. Mirraine, I am Darin. It is quite an interesting village, to be sure." He gazed at the cup warily. "I've not seen any drinks such as that served here, no." Simultaneously, Darin startled as he witnessed a new arrival run right up to the table and, without a word, began engorging on the food. Darin's lips pulled into a light frown, as he glanced unsurely at all of these eccentric individuals.

Yet, his discomfort would be put on pause, as when Mephisto's performance ended, Darin took notice of the villagers returning to movement.

...when had they stopped?

Darin narrowed his eyes, gazing from local to local. As he did so, he could feel an unnatural pressure that he knew was not there before; turning his vision to the sky, it revealed that there was no moon, and there were no stars. All very odd. Too odd. Far, far too much to be safe.

Darin's breathing quickened. With a swift motion, his musket was practically thrown off of his shoulder and into his claws, which gripped it tightly in a lowered but ready position. Anyone who looked closely might see the end of his tail flicking in agitation, his jaw clenched tightly, or his eyes darting to and fro between the sky, villagers, and fellow visitors. Like a [Sentry] on alert, his posture was prepared, and Darin wasn't about to let anything of importance slip from his awareness.

"Amiss indeed. Announce any abnormalities you see, and ignore nothing." He said to Dione, the knight, and any others that heard him; the more eyes watching and ears listening, the better. As for himself, Darin scanned his surroundings for anything else that he could have foolishly missed, scrutinized the "villagers" that acted as no normal individual should, and kept from focusing on any one thing for too long [1].

After Edwin let go of Kain, Darin took his own turn to address the local, putting a soft but firm claw on the timber wolf's shoulder. "Kain, I have two very important questions for you. Where are we, and what year is it?" As he asked those questions, Darin would take the opportunity to appraise the beastkin, to confirm whether the villager was real, altered, or potentially fake altogether [2].

---

Action [1]: Used Ability [Watchful Focus E]
Darin does his best to keep an eye on everything and everyone in his vicinity, looking for anything else abnormal.
Action [2]: Used Skill [Appraisal D]
Darin appraises Kain, in hopes of gaining a clue on what's truly going on.

D Grade Cooldown: 0/2
E Grade Cooldown: 0/0

[Sentry] - Darin excels at guard duty and is likely to be tasked with it a lot. Darin inspires a sense of safety and rest-assuredness.

Watchful Focus E - Energized E, Focus E, Perception E, Insight E - Darin takes the time to focus on keeping aware of his surroundings, sensing for any abnormalities or specifics within in his vicinity, as well as studying the speech and actions of those around him. - 0 Post Cooldown​

 

[Speed]

Faker

Titles: Isekai [Mundane], Human [Mundane], Attentive Student [Grade E]
Class: Striker
​

As Faker awaited Kain’s response, a booming voice suddenly cut through the air. "There seems to be something wrong with your head, peasant."

Faker’s cupped hands lowered, his brow raising in suspicion. "Trouble," he muttered, immediately spotting the source; a towering figure clad in black armor, clearly a knight. His hand instinctively moved to rest on the pommel of his blade, body leaning slightly back, ready to react.

The black knight, Edwin, continued his tirade, his voice deep and filled with arrogance as he continued to speak. He closed the gap between himself and Kain, his heavy boots thudding with purpose. Faker, ever cautious, shifted his foot backward, watching the scene unfold.

Then, without warning, Edwin’s gauntleted hand shot out, grabbing the beastkin by the shirt and yanking him forward. Faker instinctively stepped back, distancing himself from the sudden aggression [Fast F + Energized F], though his hand remained poised over his weapon. Edwin’s cold gaze flicked toward him.

"And what might you call him?" Edwin sneered, his gaze tilting in Faker’s direction. "A peasant who has clearly forgotten how to treat his betters, that is how you can call him."

Faker’s eyes narrowed, though he remained silent. This wasn’t his fight. He had come for food, not for some knight’s inflated sense of superiority. His fingers drummed lightly against his sword hilt, ready but not eager to get involved. "Observe and learn," he reminded himself. "Not my problem."

Edwin wasn’t done. As he spoke of how things were done in his domain, his voice, though even, carried a clear undertone of irritation.

Faker’s expression remained neutral, though his mind was racing. "Is this how this world works? Is this the norm?" He stayed vigilant, his eyes darting from the knight to the villagers, gauging their reactions.

As Edwin’s gaze shifted to the sky, Faker’s unease grew. "Something is amiss in this village," the knight growled, finally releasing his grip on Kain.

Faker whispered to himself, "Amiss? Where?" He glanced around, trying to pick up on whatever it was that had triggered Edwin’s suspicion, but all seemed normal - for now. Even so, Faker’s hand never left his blade. He wasn’t about to be caught off guard.

Just then, another voice chimed in. "I agree," said a blonde-haired girl named Dione, her eyes narrowing in dangerous focus. "Something is amiss here. But just as something is amiss with this village, it seems the concept of noblesse oblige is lost on you." Faker couldn't help but notice a crackle of energy snapped at her fingertips before she let it dissipate, her gaze never leaving Edwin.

Faker couldn’t help but feel a little impressed. "Bold. Impressive, even. Foolish? Maybe, but we’ll see how fate handles it," he thought, watching the tense exchange.

As the standoff between Dione and Edwin unfolded, another figure entered the fray - Darin, the rifle-wielding lizardman. With a gentle but firm claw, he placed his hand on Kain’s shoulder. "Kain, I have two very important questions for you. Where are we, and what year is it?"

Faker’s eyes widened momentarily. "So, his name is Kain." He contemplated quietly at the realization. But what really caught his attention wasn’t the beastkin’s name, it was the growing concern among the outsiders. It seemed that whatever was wrong here had rattled all the visitors, not just the locals.

"Is this more common than I thought? Maybe this world really is stuck in some perpetual mess." Faker’s mind raced, trying to piece it all together. But it was still too soon to draw any solid conclusions. For now, he would continue to listen, observe, and stay cautious.

"Not my problem to solve… well, not yet at least."
Ability Cooldowns:

• E-Grade Cooldown 1/1
• F-Grade Cooldown 0/0

 

[Mephisto]

Titles:

[Fae, Mundane], Text Colors: #ffcf30, #e60606

“It's Showtime!!” - 0/1, cooldown ends soon

“One Hell of a Show!” - 0/1, used this round

“We Have a Deal to Make” - 1/1, cooldown not active

DarkKitsune
Speed
Voider
Maxxob
Ersatra
Kris Rebel​

---

A woman with hair of gold, her addition to the applause a humble and somewhat somber affair, approached Mephisto. Her steps were silent, cushioned not by wool or padding. They were lighter than air. Even being as dexterous as he was, Mephisto tilted his head thoughtfully. His rictus smile tightened as she began to speak.

He half-expected her to recommend a tale for him to tell, and his voice quivered in protest. He didn't oblige any requests unless they were part of an engaging wager. Her words came traipsing along out from behind her soft lips, tumbling into his ears and sending his curiosity crumbling away into unbound, unimpeded attention. He tilted down at the waist in order to hear her properly and without interference.

She made no secret of it. The other villagers either accepted it as an immutable fact or had already heard it so many times that their input made no difference.

What she said seemed odd, of course. The implications were perhaps more directly unnerving. Had he spoken some sort of beast into reality, into revealing itself? More than likely, the village drank from the cup of a dreadful curse. Mephisto adjusted his posture and placed a hand on his sharp chin, rubbing it in a contemplative gesture.

“Oh dear, that is quite the predicament,” he snickered, tapping his fingers along the crest of his cane.

Regardless of what the others could discern, he was aware of something amiss in the village. It is why he felt at home, torn away from the ordinary and trapped within the uncompromising unknown. Too shallow, and there couldn't be much fun. Too deep, and even creatures such as he would drown.

That is when he felt eyes upon him, ones uncommon to the increasingly bizarre villagers. He craned backwards, bending his back slightly in order to catch a glimpse of his lingering audience. She was indeed small, a blip on his otherwise frantic radar. But she seemed less like the villagers, more grounded.

More… real.

He stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, leaning towards Mirraine. He stopped and inspected her eyes. There was indeed a glimmer of life, but he had to make sure. He extended a finger.

Without hesitation, he poked her nose as if it were a button.

“Ah ha!” Mephisto chirped, returning to his full height once more.

He clapped his hands together happily, though the bizarre and uncanny features he possessed perhaps indicated something more feral. His sharp teeth caught glimmers of light, almost as if they were slick with a fresh meal.

“Oh, my dear! You're like me! How delightful,” he rustled his own golden hair slightly, coming to terms with his new discovery.

“I was beginning to worry that everyone here was more mannequin than flesh and blood. That would have been dreadfully… boring,” a forked tongue extended from his lips and licked his fangs.

His dark eyes intercepted Sir Edwin's gaze, and Mephisto immediately bowed his head, raising a single upturned hand in the traditional showman's greeting for royalty. He exalted the knight's station with such a gesture while simultaneously begging his pardon.

“My liege,” he smirked, daring not to adjust his own posture to invite disaster.

“My humblest gratitude is necessary for such a compliment,”

He raised himself up, placing one foot in front of the other and spreading his arms across from each other.

“But to conquer fear, one must become an expert in it. Besides, life's no fun without a good scare,”

His smile extended practically from ear to ear.

“I'm sure you're quite versed in causing dread and mayhem. Nobility can't mask the smell of blood forever,” his chest rumbled with a mirthful cackle.

He knew a great many things. He lied about a great many other things. He told the truth, but often at a cost. He partook in flesh over fruit, blood over wine, but never revealed that to guests of his house. His trade was the long game, a web of tales and falsehoods. Yet all of this, obvious at a glance, became elusive and strange upon closer inspection.

He was not to be trusted, the man in a red pinstripe suit. He was not to be led astray. He was not to be underestimated or overvalued. He simply was, simply for his own gain. He turned his attention elsewhere once Sir Edwin understood that, or managed a glimpse of it.

He had no secrets to hide, for there was no purpose in hiding anything if the truth was already concealed in a labyrinth of perfect lies.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” Mephisto shouted so that the others could hear him.

The oppressive night condensed like a thick fog, blurring stars into non-existence and choking even the brilliance of the harvest moon into impermeable black. It set the stage perfectly for what was about to happen. As if pulled from beyond the cusp of a stage, Mephisto stood atop what served as an auction panel - the original purpose of which long dissipated into the anxiety of the yawning abyss.

His coattails followed him loyally. His invocation ran red hot. The magic still swirled in the air from before, and his voice cracked with anticipation.

“Tonight, you will be witness to horrors from your darkest nightmares! Tonight, the shadows shall march in tandem with your feverish heartbeats! Tonight, the riddles of doom and clashing steel give rhythm to a new, sinister chorus!”

The smell of fire and brimstone invaded the immediate vicinity. Somewhere, a jazzy beat caught its hook. Horns and drums snapped in unison. Mephisto allowed it for a moment, tapping his foot along with the cacophony, and then snapped his fingers.

The otherworldly noise fell silent.

“Tonight, it'll be… One Hell of a Show! Hit it, boys!”

Without hesitation, the strange, unseen band struck up a unifying chord. Brass belted out in thunderous harmony, scratching the air with cruel, shrill sounds that became a lively arrangement. Drums roared and strings screeched, but it all came together as Mephisto stomped his feet.

“Howdy folks! Name’s Mephisto, good to be here!
Not every day we get surrounded by fear!
Sure it’s spooky and mysterious
Downright loony and delirious
It’s a plane of unknown potential
With a certain danger exponential

We’re all going to die here!
Ain’t it lovely?
We expire by dawn, my dears
It’ll be ugly!

That’s right I’m sure you’ve heard
Of the grand apocalyptic word
We were doomed from the very start
But hey, who can resist a village with heart?
I’ll make this short I’ll make this sweet
Because in eight hours we’ll be dead meat!

Has your hearing gone?
Sing it baby!
Dead by dawn, dead by dawn!
Swing it baby!”​

He pinned his glasses to his coat, and swept his golden hair back. It became blood red as he looked out over the audience with a golden gaze that transitioned into the color of a carved throat.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Freedom is divine bloodlust
You never die, there isn't a Hell
Heaven is a funeral bell
So come join the mad parade
The inescapable cavalcade

Dance, you sinners!
We're best of friends!
Swing, you sinners!
Until the very end!”​

He vanished without so much as a whimper, a puff of red smoke replacing where he stood. But as quickly as he disappeared he rose from the depths of the crowd. He hovered around Faker, placing his long fingers on the man's broad, round shoulders. His bizarre anatomy loomed over him, practically cracking at the seams if not for the pale skin keeping the horrid noises contained and muffled.

“You, my friend, are quite the guy!
Standing here without batting an eye
You’ve been so calm and aloof
Stuffing your face, hiding the truth
Twisting, turning, never clear
The whispers are drawing ever near

Run run run as fast as you can
Your flesh would still be tender
Gobbled up by the Skinless Man
Still alive as your fat layers render!”​

He ripped his own face off, this time making sure to put in all the gruesome details of the fleshy tendons and twitching nerve endings. After putting it back where it came from, the Fae anomaly gave Faker a delicate pat on the head and moved on, carrying himself along like a wisp of smoke upon the wind with fluid dancing movements.

Within a split second, between two breaths, and as soon as an eye could blink, he was upon Darin, resting his crooked elbow on top of the lizardman's scaly noggin.

He pressed a finger against the barrel of the intimidating musket.

“I’ve kept my eye on you, my scaly friend
I’m afraid I haven’t much help to lend
You’re quite skilled at standing still
Holding your gun and praying for a kill
Instead I’ll give you some advice
Open your ears and peel your eyes

It’s going to be behind you
Keep the horrors at bay
It’s getting closer to you
Each time you look away,”​

Next came Dione, the woman who caught his glance from her reservoirs of elemental magic. The sparks were not difficult to miss if one were looking for them. After all, Mephisto had to learn as much as he could from his new friends.

He approached her with a sinister smirk, each tooth clearly defined by their similarity to those of a shark’s.

"Hello, my friend, how do you do?
Are you trying to solve this mystery too?
You seem to be the last one I can find
Who hasn’t completely lost their mind
Trusting me is up to you
But honestly, what have you got to lose?

The night will never end
Morning will never come
Not even stars survive
In the void - cold, black, and numb,”​

He threw his head back in a maddeningly joyful cackle. He never lied. He never told the truth. Any of these horrifying things could happen. None of them could as well. The power to change even the slightest thought in the minds of his audience members, to curl even the smallest hair on their necks, to send even the most insignificant shiver along their spines, that was what he wanted. It made him feel more alive than he ever did.

He never lied. He never told the truth.

He loved to be alive, so much so that even in this resurrected world he couldn't hide his enthusiasm. He had no reason to. He shouted to the heavens, indifferent and unfeeling, saw nothing - and still found joy in the bleak nothingness.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Freedom is divine bloodlust
You never die, there isn't a Hell
Heaven is a funeral bell
So come join the mad parade
The inescapable cavalcade

Dance, you sinners!
We're best of friends!
Swing, you sinners!
Until the very end!”​

His smile tightened, coiled like a spring about to pop. When he continued along, his eyes made a sickening noise as they turned in his head towards Sir Edwin. He made the same gesture as before with his upturned hand.

“There's not much else I could say
No hopeful thoughts left to pray
I'm sure you've already heard
Every last, pathetic pleading word
So I'll just say what you always want to hear
A classic joke to have you grinning from ear to ear

A farmer tills the soil
For his beloved king
The farmer loses a hand
Because the jester liked his ring,”​

Finally came Mirraine, whom he adored. However, he wouldn't have let this opportunity slip away. He only had one chance to make a good impression, after all. He started, of course, by initiating a game of pattycake.

“My darling friend you're just like me
You enjoy a show with a little disharmony
It's no secret the situation's dire
So let's make a deal before we expire
If we survive, we'll meet up later
And play a game of poker as a favor

It might just be me
But I think I'm right
It might be the kid
And murder is on the menu tonight,”​

He shrugged his sharp shoulders and turned on his heel to finish the rest of his song. He hopped back onto the auction platform as the music swelled for the finale.

“We're always here, always free
You, my friends, who'll dance with me
Into the night, alone and afraid
Where the darkness dies and stars all fade
Come with me, I know where to go
You can trust me, my name is… Mephisto!

I never lie I never tell the truth
I never tell secrets, I'll never die
I'll never rot I'll always come back
Just like you - what did I say?”​

They were trapped. The horrors closed in around them. The shadows grew long. While others grew uneasy and eager to escape, Mephisto soaked in the mounting tension. He admired it. He loved it. He wanted to watch it as it consumed everything around him in terror.

The chorus pumped out one last time, the final palpatations of a heaving chest. He kept dancing, kept singing, kept reveling in the anxiety and uncertainty.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Freedom is divine bloodlust
You never die, there isn't a Hell
Heaven is a funeral bell
So come join the mad parade
The inescapable cavalcade

Dance, you sinners!
We're best of friends!
Swing, you sinners!
Until the very end!”​

The music faded away, but lingered in the ears of those who heard it. Did it even happen in the first place? The pungent odor of fire and brimstone dissolved into barren ash and distant smoke until it, too, disappeared with only hints of existing at all. Mephisto dusted himself off and hopped from the stage.

He had no reason to do or say anything else at this time. Perhaps with a unifying voice, the elements at play would be able to converge and put on quite the show. Or, if they couldn't, he could always find a high place to watch the ensuing carnage. The possibilities were all in his favor all things considered.

He had no reason to think otherwise.

 

[Maxxob]

Sir Edwin Stormcrest?

​

Titles
[Human - Mundane], [Noble Ryke Baronet] C, [Apprentice Lancer], Knight [Educated] Color - #0E0101

DarkKitsune Voider Mephisto Kris Rebel Ersatra Speed

Egypt - Cossacks 2

As Edwin's gaze locked on Dione, the abyss-like eyeholes of his helmet seemed to pierce through her. Beneath the cold facade, there was a flicker of something darker—an almost predatory patience, like a lion watching its prey’s futile attempts at resistance. His voice, dripping with sarcasm, carried the weight of finality. “Noblesse oblige? Hah!” The words slithered from his mouth like poison, mocking the very notion. He slowly turned his entire body toward her, each shift of his armor a cold reminder of the force he wielded.

One gauntleted hand released the shaft of his darkened, three-pronged lance, claw-like fingertips sprawling wide. His arm swept to the right, perpendicular to his own body, going over the gathered villagers. “I would think I’ve extended enough of my patience and grace to these serfs, even them not being deserving of it...” Had the man not having been wearing his helmet, a huge mocking smile could have been seen. He would keep his opened arm for a moment longer, he slammed the end of his lance towards the cobbled ground, a metallic sound echoing with the force of the impact. “... just as I’m extending it towards you, foreigner.” His tone didn’t quite match his words, the sharpness of it being one of pure steel.

Turning the palm of his sprawled hand towards the blond-haired woman, all his fingers, except for his index, would close. Only then, the clawed index would move from left to right, successive ‘Tsks’ leaving the opening of his helmet, like a parent admonishing an unruly child. “Be always careful. Some slights cannot be undone.” A warning, one which the baronet would dispense only once.

With the graveness of the situation within the village being pushed to the back of his mind, his free-hand moved to his belt, clawed fingers wrapping close to the crimson jewel right in the middle of it. It was then that his attention was caught by the bowing Mephisto, stance shifting slightly, as he couldn’t help but appreciate those who are aware of the societal hierarchy.

“Truer words were never spoken. An expert I’m, however, the dread and mayhem I dispense is only for those… deserving of it, along with the spilled blood.” The amicable tone which accompanied the corrupted knight words could end up being unexpected. But that was not the only thing unexpected, no.

The azure eyes, hidden behind his headgear, narrowed, taking the sight of the curious man. Music reached his ears, from where he could not tell. Tactically, he chose to keep his gaze broad, rather than focused solely on the singing Mephisto, yet every word uttered from the musical number were caught by his ears.

One by one, the group was addressed during the song and, when Edwin was the one being addressed, there was a tilt to the left of the blackened helmet. He drank and sampled every word directed at him like wine, judging its worth and merit. Would Mephisto’s number please him or end up incurring his ire?

The answer came, but it was silent, a cruel, hidden grin which, indeed, stretched from ear-to-ear, upon hearing the sadistic joke. The jester was entertaining, for sure, that he couldn’t deny. Even his distrust and prejudice towards mages were brought to a halt momentarily, during the number. And, when the whole number was over, the smell of brimstone receding from the village, Edwin would pronounce himself.

“Bravo, jester. That was certainly… entertaining, for sure.” From a pouch near his belt, the dark knight’s hand, which was on his belt, would produce a single silver coin. And, with practiced ease, he would flick the ryke, using his thumb, towards Mephisto, a payment for the entertainment [Wealth F]. With that, his helmet would turn towards Kain, the plate groaning with the movement, expecting the beast to finally relay some useful information, lest his patience wears even thinner.