Demon Realm

May 2017 Featured RPG

Vex

protect your bible between your knees, baby.
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Bas OOC Information

Status
Created
Threads
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12-23-2017
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BAS /bæs/ Proper Noun; a bizarre creature known for it's affinity for black comedy. speaks with a sardonic undertone, though means no ill-will. The BAS can occasionally be caught socializing but should only be approached via discord ( BAS#8795 ) while at a safe distance. the BAS has no known triggers, and is willing to partake in writing activities from long lake-side walks, to gruesome ritualistic killings. And remember: it's of the utmost importance that you never ever --

Character Information

Character Type
Face Claim
Solo Demon
Keith Stanfield
Human Pronouns
Human Age
Demon Pronouns
Demon Age
N/A
N/A
Masculine
999
Faction
Profession
Unaffiliated
EX MESSOREM

Character Summary

b o o k : fear&loathing in las vegas
p o e m : spirits of the dead
s o n g : thholyghst
tarot : five of cups
align : chaotic neutral
t y p e : istp
sinner: pride
virtue: patience

positive: charismatic
positive: discreet
positive: intelligent
positive: maticulous
positive: observant
positive: passionate
positive: skillful
positive: uninhibited

negative: abrasive
negative: compulsive
negative: deceptive
negative: emotional
negative: jealous
negative: morbid
negative: obsessive
negative: sardonic

Ascensions
Dominions

a playlist
while you wait

thholyghst
by crosses

sound of silence
by disturbed

s p l a t t e r
by tyler the creator

kill of the night
by gin wigmore

wait and bleed
by slipknot

biomancy
mastery: lesser | via power

b l o o d
mastery: minor | via power

hallucinations
mastery: proficient | via power

psychometry
mastery: minor | via control

s h a d o w
mastery: minor | via power

telepathy
mastery: lesser | via control

Character In-Depth

i. prelude.
trigger warnings include: violence, death, gore, rape, suicide, depression, mental illness.

i. & it's not that i'm evil.
Fingers flex tight and hold, nails ripping skin and drawing blood. "Is this what you do for fun?" He asked me, retching, trying to stomach the bile bubbling in his gut. "Nah," I spoke soft but I grinned wide, teeth bright and lips thin, "you are." It made him wonder for a while what I meant by that, and maybe one day he'd come to understand. For now, I'd enjoy the confusion across his face every time he thought about it.

"You're a monster," he said, arms at his chest. "Not quite," I told him, shrugging like humans did; that non-committal gesture that left answers open and questions lingering. "But close." And closer with every body buried. And closer with every soul siphoned. And closer with every life leeched.

"Why are you like this?" He asked. A question I couldn't answer. I just was; I existed, there was no more to it than that, I simply was. Could I have been different? Perhaps. But I wasn't. I was the monster they'd made me out to be; we all were. Beasts of burden, ready to destroy and demolish for fun, or food. Wrath and ruination followed on my heels leaving blazing trails of burning bodies. Simply because. I'd not woven my own fabric, I was a construct of death and decay, and I knew no other way of living.

We are demons, after all. Not fluffy fucking cherubs.

ii. a flood of blood to the heart.
he never asked.

Not any of it, not one question, not one curious brow as to why or how, he just accepted it. I couldn't begin to understand the complexities of a human mind; they were such bizarre creatures that made little to no sense at the best of times. They were stupid, I thought. Pointless, I knew. Perfect, this one; but only this one.

The rises and falls of his chest, the thudding of his rabbit heart pounding against ribs, the batting of black lashes that framed ocean-blue eyes. He was perfect, and it was disgusting. I hated him for it; but I hated myself more.

So I pushed him harder; but the harder I pushed, the faster I fell. Soon enough I was spiraling out of control, there was no bottom in sight. He was this beautiful, impossible creature that I'd made the mistake of tethering myself to; I wanted to run, but I was stuck at his side. So I pushed him harder; and the harder I pushed, the further he fell.

It wasn't the same as the others, there was no joy in the manipulation. I felt no entertainment by terrifying him, and feigning care. The only comfort I felt was in his body pressed flush to mine. A comfort I would never find again.

I only realized I wanted to stop pushing when I was faced with his skull split and splattered across the pavement.

iii. we don't sleep until the devils turn to dust.
I was fucked up and falling apart in a thousand ways. He left a void. He was a broken glass that left shards that I stepped on years after he'd left; without warning, without reason, there he was digging under my flesh and leaving me raw.

I was weaker now, and he knew it.

"Pull yourself together." Kovac couldn't understand what was wrong with me. He was more of a monster than I'd ever been; if I was a violent dog, it's only because he'd been the man beating me. I'm not sure what I was before I knew him, but surely it wasn't as vile as what I'd become.

I'd known him for as long as I could recall, everything before him was laid with fog and sunk beneath rocky tides. He pulled me from the trenches and dried me out, shoved a gun in my hand and told me how to be a good solider. A good mutt on a short leash, ready to bite and gnaw whenever the chain dropped.

The family, he calls it. A family it is not, his brother I am not, but it's what he calls me. Brother. I know manipulation when I see it, but he just sees me as this well behaved little puppy that rides his heels and follows his orders. Hundreds of years have passed, I think he's forgotten I'm not a dog.

I'm a snake.

iv. the only thing that slowly stops the ache.
Drunk on the haze of her horror, we sat on top of the same building he'd flung himself off of. "So why?" I asked; not because I cared, but because she would spill her woes to me before painting the concrete red. I lived for this shit; and she'd die for it; but she didn't know that yet. Now, she still kept one hand laced with mine and the other gripped to the ledge ready to push.

It was glorious; she'd been suffering for months and I'd been gorging myself on her sorrows, soaking it up like junk food. Driving her crazy, shoving her to the edge, enjoying the slow descent into depression. The long drop, and the hard stop at the end; this was my high.

I'd been at her side every step of the way; the girl glittering with gold, with hair as bright as sun and a smile that could stun. She was beautiful, had a future, loved life; until I slipped in and started dropping reels of tape in her mind. Slowly the bright girl burned out, her bulb dimming, her light flickering and now.

"I'm sorry." She thought I cared, but in that last moment she became bitter with betrayal as my hand gave her the final push she needed.

The line blurs on whether I'm tormenting them, or myself.

No matter. On to the next.

Demon Information

i. snake eyed with a sly smile
It moves like fluid, body slinking and curling with ease as if it were without bones. Flesh is faded black and speckled grey, mottled and worn, stretched and scared; but the chinks in it's armour run deeper than skin. Eyes black and glistening with horrors seen, and caused. There's an emptiness, an unfillable void. Tongue forked, fangs long, pointed and dripping with venom. A creature modest in size at twelve feet in length, but it's more than made up for in agility and stealth. The natural state of the monster hiding inside the man; a snake. How appropriate.

ii. the mindset of a killer.
It's heart beats harder; a blessing and a curse. It craves the unmistakable heat a human offers, and all the luxuries of a warm body. It's twisted and cruel; drawing a moth to a flame, eager to watch it burn. It's possessive, obsessive, territorial; until it grows bored. It hungers, and it feeds. It hypnotizes, and it leads. To the edge, and over; the lamb to the lions mouth, the rat to the snake. They all end the same, warming the predator's belly. But what happens when the prey follows no longer, and the predator is left only with himself?

iii. crooked, but upright.
It cannot speak, but it drips with deceit and manipulation; words are not needed when minds are so easy to twist. Without hands, without feet, it is perhaps at a disadvantage, but it finds it much easier to slither into the shadows and dissolve into the darkness. Unseen, unheard, unnoticed; but slowly chipping away at the good left in you until there's nothing but gore. Survival skills, predatory prowess; but a mean temper, a low tolerance and a self destructive streak.