Cthulhu_Wakes
Black Sun in a White World
plot soon pls
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Childe of the Dead God (Chronicles of Darkness)
- Thread starter Cthulhu_Wakes
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Cthulhu_Wakes
Black Sun in a White World
These mountains are some of the oldest in the world, smoothed down by the sandpaper of time. Older than any of the gods, or the God, men worship. The Old World rejoiced when a drunken Spaniard blindly stumbled onto the New. They bled it, converted it, and robbed it fucking barren for takeover. Their little shadows, all the creeping life of the night, did much the same. Only they didn't count on what goes bump in the night on this side of the Atlantic.
Old things with aspects forgotten by the indigenous people; nameless horrors haunting the hazy mountain forests and nesting in the valleys. The silent men of the coastal plains, the walkers in the trees, old Raven Mocker and his kin. All waited and watched the new breed of conqueror march over their plague-ridden adherents and spread themselves much like a virus over the land.
But too were horrors of the Old World crept to the New. Thought long since dead in the Old, their loyalists secreted them away from their persecutors in ages past.
The scent of the Old World woke them up. It was their time to stand up and for the suzerains of the Old World to carve the likeness of their dominion into the heart of the New.
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Cthulhu_Wakes
Black Sun in a White World
@Grey
"To put it quite simply," Mercer began, "the Kogaion has vanished. Gone, poof. Not a soul has seen her since dusk two nights ago." He tugs off the cigarette in hand, fingers trembling slightly. "Toufexis is deeply concerned, and the entire court is an uproar. Neither the Sheriff or his Hounds have found a thing, not a thread of hair."
The greeting parlor is cave-cool and dark save for the Marlboro candlelight. Flat wooden shutters limned by the still-setting sun. Mercer had been insistent with this news, as all good bootlickers should, and waited for your awakening. He's one of the good Duchess's mouths. The Sun is a languid thing midsummer, taking as much as a half hour or more for its light to exhale and bloom to black. "There's rumor running around she isn't the only one gone missing. I know you Ordo don't really meet up often, but there's word others have gone silent the past few nights."
Cigarette perched between dry lips, he holds out his hands pleadingly. "What m'lady would like to know is...do you know what the Ordo have been sniffing at? Any grand project or work?"
"To put it quite simply," Mercer began, "the Kogaion has vanished. Gone, poof. Not a soul has seen her since dusk two nights ago." He tugs off the cigarette in hand, fingers trembling slightly. "Toufexis is deeply concerned, and the entire court is an uproar. Neither the Sheriff or his Hounds have found a thing, not a thread of hair."
The greeting parlor is cave-cool and dark save for the Marlboro candlelight. Flat wooden shutters limned by the still-setting sun. Mercer had been insistent with this news, as all good bootlickers should, and waited for your awakening. He's one of the good Duchess's mouths. The Sun is a languid thing midsummer, taking as much as a half hour or more for its light to exhale and bloom to black. "There's rumor running around she isn't the only one gone missing. I know you Ordo don't really meet up often, but there's word others have gone silent the past few nights."
Cigarette perched between dry lips, he holds out his hands pleadingly. "What m'lady would like to know is...do you know what the Ordo have been sniffing at? Any grand project or work?"
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Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
The Ourobouros
This is serpent's lair; here Ouro typically assumes a less human appearance, something to keep up the mystique for those rare few that visit. Its face is angular, pale, almost blank, with dark, almond shaped eyes. In stark contrast, it wears an unremarkable black bathrobe.
"If I knew, Mercer," it says, resting chin on hand, staring fixedly at the tip of his cigarette, "do you believe I would tell you?"
Idly, it checks non-existent nails. "For free, at the very least..."
This is serpent's lair; here Ouro typically assumes a less human appearance, something to keep up the mystique for those rare few that visit. Its face is angular, pale, almost blank, with dark, almond shaped eyes. In stark contrast, it wears an unremarkable black bathrobe.
"If I knew, Mercer," it says, resting chin on hand, staring fixedly at the tip of his cigarette, "do you believe I would tell you?"
Idly, it checks non-existent nails. "For free, at the very least..."
Cthulhu_Wakes
Black Sun in a White World
@VectorPup
"I heard the most interesting rumor, dear Bruno," Celise chuckles. Always smiling, our Celise, always just showing a hint of pearly fangs. "Word has it that our goodly lord and savior, Toufexis, is in a bit of a spot." You can hear the false-pulse surging in her neck, can see the semi-regular rise and fall of her breasts. She's a blusher through and through, idly stirring her rose tea spiked with the waiter's blood. Celise loves this little bar. Quaint mason jar lamps, drifts of sawdust on the floor. "There have been sordid vanishings and what not. Dragons with their wings ripped off. Another one of those strange Wicker Men showed up in Gambino's penthouse. His ghoul says he'd never heard such a shrill scream when his master came tearing out of the bedroom, the doll sitting in his favorite chair."
She sips the tea and barely grimaces. The blood helps, but she'll be puking it up later anyway. Word has it that she bleaches those pretty little teeth and only has them still through the grace of being made whole each night by the dark gift.
"I heard the most interesting rumor, dear Bruno," Celise chuckles. Always smiling, our Celise, always just showing a hint of pearly fangs. "Word has it that our goodly lord and savior, Toufexis, is in a bit of a spot." You can hear the false-pulse surging in her neck, can see the semi-regular rise and fall of her breasts. She's a blusher through and through, idly stirring her rose tea spiked with the waiter's blood. Celise loves this little bar. Quaint mason jar lamps, drifts of sawdust on the floor. "There have been sordid vanishings and what not. Dragons with their wings ripped off. Another one of those strange Wicker Men showed up in Gambino's penthouse. His ghoul says he'd never heard such a shrill scream when his master came tearing out of the bedroom, the doll sitting in his favorite chair."
She sips the tea and barely grimaces. The blood helps, but she'll be puking it up later anyway. Word has it that she bleaches those pretty little teeth and only has them still through the grace of being made whole each night by the dark gift.
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