Fantasy 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑑𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛

[Kaya]

Summoning of entities of the third plane


Stage One – The Circle
To perform the summoning ritual the summoner must draw a circle upon the ground in chalk, whilst reciting either the true name, other name or the type/species of the creature to be summoned. The sacrifice should be placed in the inner circle before the incantations are begun. Sacrifices can take the form of anything appropriate to the demon/species being summoned. Particular favourites are the good old fashioned white calf/black bull, weapons or armour (for militaristic demons), expensive fabrics or perfumes, fine art, jewellery, etc.

Stage two- Calling Forth
Once the circle(s) are complete the summoner must stand in a place of prominence outside the circles and perform the rites required to draw the demon into the physical world and give it shape.
The summoner must force open the portal to Gehenna and stabilise it to allow the demon to step through.

Stage three- The Binding
To bind a demon, the summoning area should be encircled by wards, a number of concentric rings equal to the ‘circle’ of the summoned demon (an indication of its power). Each ring should contain, or be composed of, an item or substance which opposes the demon in question.
Binding places you in a position of strength.
Keeping a bound demon happy ensures its good service, and strengthens its presence in the world.

As with all elements of summoning, the better the knowledge of the demon is, the more successful binding will be. Powerful, individual demons have their own unique likes and dislikes, and a summoner can expect to require several rare or exotic items to use for the strongest wards.

At the culmination of the chanting to call it forth the demon should appear inside the centre circle. At this point the summoner must attempt to keep it there with incantation and strength of will.



Footnote- Possible familiar?

Sacrifice;
- Silk, dyed in a bright color, jewelry or a music box

3 wards;
- a weapon
- blood
- something made of lead

In hoc circulo te voco, in hoc circulo adstringo te, in hoc circulo te accieo.
Beluus effrenatus, peccator sordidat, deceptor impastus.
Ter tuo nomine ligatus es, nolo vinctus, voco te,
Incubus, filius inferni.
Te voco, te ligao, te voco, te constringo in hoc circulo.
Me mea voluntate obligo te.


Started the summoning. No success till n-

 

[Kaya]

Cyril

Balsam

"So if you don't mind that it's not brand new,
I'll take this secondhand heart and give it to you."​

Name. - Balsam Rime Cyril
Nicknames. - Sam / Ry
Age. - 376 years
Gender. - male
Orientation. - Pansexual
Species. - Incubus


Height. - 5'11 // 6'2
Build. - slender, athletic
Hair Color. - gray-ish cyan // black
Eye Color. - ice blue & black // storm cloud gray
Special. - cat ears & tail, claws, fangs




His older brother, Belial

coded by reveriee.

 

[Discovery]

Miles Henderson

NAME

Miles Henderson

NICKNAME

Miles

AGE

26

GENDER

Male

ORIENTATION

Bi-curious

SPECIES

Human

FIRST KISS

The grit and grain shifted, the sands bound to his soles. “His shoes, his shoes,” his mother would cry for the moment they were in a state of reclaim, all would fall down tumbling.

A sea of colour, the detail and tone, warm bright colours of the rainbow. The curved edged structures were so smooth, he glided down with ease as a giggling fit of laughter escaped his lips.

Sunlight peaked through cotton candy clouds against the winds whipping through his hair. Tiny fingers entwined with the links and swinging feet like flapping wings gained speed. He soared higher, and higher, and higher.

Effervescent was the drink in his hands. Boxed and covered with only the most saccharine tinged fruit. It drew up a breathy challenge before the last drop coated his tongue.

Magnificent machinations remained unmoved, requiring two, was where he found his companion. She sat on lonesome, eyes downcast like the braids on her hair, her feet on the other side until he decided to give it a try. He sat shifting his weight down as she smiled looking up.

Up and down and up and down they went.

“Sarah! Sarah!” Her mother bellowed. She returned her gaze. Their play slowing down, but not before, she bowed out of the stage. In grace, to his surprise, she pecked his cheek.

“Thanks!” She muttered before being whisked away.

Sarah…

His heart introduced itself to him that day.

HARD TO MISS

Soft. So soft.

Sitting at the edge of her bed made it difficult for him to concentrate his thoughts. Logically, he knew he needed to complete their homework, but the knot in his throat was telling him otherwise. Why was breathing so difficult when she was around? It wasn’t as if they were in a sealed chamber where air was a limited resource and she was hogging all of it.

No, no.

However…

She did have a monopoly on his attention.

While she was ever so blissfully unaware, he felt it, the dragging, slow descent of lead into the pits of his stomach. Yet, in paradox, his ribcage felt like it wouldn’t be able to contain the rapid pounding in his chest. The edges of the printed numbers grew in haze requiring more effort than it should’ve to read. To enumerate. To calculate.

Numbers were easy. Straight forward. Tangible.

He understood numbers.

Feelings were difficult. Conflicting. Fickle.

He didn’t understand feelings.

For as much as he tried to command his physical reactions, he drowned in the intense helplessness of it all. This wasn’t what he expected when he read that falling in love felt like walking on air. Perhaps, the experience would be commensurate if he equated air to lava. Falling in love is like walking on lava. Uncomfortable, sweat-inducing, and absolutely terrifying. Who in their right mind would ever willingly subject themselves to such torturous labour?

Perhaps, his friends were right.

He was stupid.

But one glance over countered every reasonable instinct that he had. It was in the way she tied up her wavy blonde hair into a messy bun. It always smelled like flowers. It was the sparkle to those hazel eyes. That lit up when she saw him. It was in the curve of her lips when she finally completed her goal. A smile that melted him down…

He was in too deep and he needed an excuse.

“Um.. hey, I finished the problem set.”

“Oh, really? How are you so fast? Can you show me how to do question five?” She was looking at him expectantly. She was so cute.

Did his pulse really need to kick it up tenfold?

“Y-yeah, I can do that.”

“Really? That’s why you’re the best!” He sensed her actions as she swooped him in platonic affection. Her arms were like vice grips to his lanky frame. And his heart.

“You’re such a good friend, Miles!”

Was that all he was ever going to be?

ENTRANCED

The air was electric. A pulsating beat kept the rhythm flowing song after song, a siren call for the exuberant ones, unafraid to twirl and bounce in tandem amongst their tribe. He, on the other hand, sat on his usual stoop. Palms cold from the pint he’d been nursing since midnight, unable to work up the nerve to talk to the lady in red.

She caught his eye. She kept looking at him through those long, curled lashes, despite, already being entangled in her own circle. At times, she would tuck loose strands of her hair behind her ears as if to coyly say ”Come hither” - although, that could well be apart of his imagination as well.

The glass still half full of lukewarm beer stared back at him. Having already lost interest in the peanuts, all he could do was stare at his amber reflection. He looked goofy, perhaps out of place, wearing a hoodie in a place like this. The women were dressed to the nines while the men opted for that dapper look. It was the one that exuded power, a slim fitting button up, or physique, with anything that exposed tight muscle and strong arms. What exactly did he have in comparison?

Harry Potter glasses and spaghetti arms. Unless it came down to a limbo dance, where he surely had the advantage - being built like cardboard, he didn’t stand a chance. Random chatter fell back to his thoughts dissenting whether he should or shouldn’t make a move. Well, he was 2 out of 56 in terms of winning streaks. Could he finally turn that number up to 3?

”Well, you don’t know unless you try son.” His father’s words echoed in his head.

Seeing her friends leave her momentarily allowed him a small window of opportunity. He took his chance. Maybe, today was going to be his lucky day.

His grip tightened around the glass as he chugged whatever was remaining. He needed all the liquid courage he could find.

“Hey, I saw you standing over here without a glass in your hand. Could I buy you a drink?”

“Maybe.” She bit her lip, “But what do you want in return?”

“Uh…” His mind was drawing blank. He’d never been asked that question, let alone be acknowledged in this way. Before he could speak, his stomach gurgled, reminding him that he skipped dinner for this outing. “I-I..”

She giggled, “Looks like you’re gotta take care of that first.” In that instant, she turned her back to walked towards her friends, leaving him alone once more.

2 out of 57.

At least he went down swinging.

LAST DANCE

Cheek to cheek.

He envisioned her close.

His armed wrapped around the curves of her waist to pull her in tighter. The veil pulled back against the curled ringlets adorned with pearls and flowers placed ever so delicately, precisely, perfectly… as she was. A lustrous sheen of angel hair brushing against porcelain skin, chin resting on his shoulder, claiming her place on him. He was as much hers as she was his.

Neither the silver star asters nor the clouds parting serrated mountains could compete with her beauty beholden. The charms and grace of Pre-Raphaelite maidens would fall asunder like speckles of dust to shimmering gold against her radiance, his beloved, deserving everlasting verses of poetry that he cannot evoke in the ways he found himself tongue-tied in her presence.

The strength of hands entwined in extension of hearts combined allowed solace to weave itself into the depths of his being. His search had stilled at the journey’s end from all the trials and tribulations of the past he immediately suspended at the crest of glimmering moonlight they stood together, an embodiment of his dream.

His heart made its peace.

She was his home.

…

If only for a moment, it would come true.