Malphaestus
Touched by the Apocalypse
The ebbs and flows of the rivers of time have evaporated into the stillnesses of the void, and the cosmic fabrics of structure and order now stand at the precipice of delapidation. The end came like a bolt unto the normalcy of mundaneity, but to these lost souls, it would not come to matter until long past their passing. Heroes, paragons, and erudites, perhaps thrift rogues and fiendish assasins join their mixture, but whatever they had been, it had come to its end. Whether in grand battle between two monolithic forces, or failed plot, death had come to visit them. Darkness bounded their vision, and cloaked their thoughts as nothingness grew more expansive. But then, like a sudden spark, thoughts grew from stillness and sight came from darkness: met only with a grueling and featureless grey canvas, like a still river, save it flowed amidst the skies, undisturbed by the passage of journeying clouds or the presence of domineering storms.
Any past glories and past failures still fresh amidst their post-traumatic minds, form limp as thoughts grew more frenzied and curious. Something amidst the grey sky bolstered within a retrospective nature amidst the heart of their soul, forcing them into recollecting their most irksome echoes. Imprisoned within their selves, they could neither mutter nor change their gaze, affixed upon that most horrid heaven. A ghastly light flew its tendrils across their cheeks from beyond the periphery of their sight, and the faint sound of moving dirt caressed their ears with hushed timidity. Their erstwhile life still dominated their soul, but would not manage to slit its daggers too deep too soon, as a loud voice reached out towards them. It's direction the same as that prior shuffling of dirt which had managed to slip their attention; deep they had been in their trance-like suspended animation. But any trance would soon be gone, as life began to flow back into their lifeless husk, and their soul were reunited with a life which was capable of living.
One at a time, a headless figure named Truth would come to greet them each in turn. A well-practiced performance, which would flow with hinderance. As he lent little time to each individual, instead deciding to repeat it for each, before going on to the next, allowing each to take in the strangeness which encompassed them all, whether they be on the dirt or roaming about. It was a bland landscape bleakened and downtrodden by centuries of use, all grass or greenery extinct from its soil. A barren flatland were it not for the presence of millions of crucifixes standing dormant in various states of decay for as far as the eyes could see. A place made heavy by the history it implies but does not speak; riddled with happenings without evidence. The sun seemed more dominant here than any other land they could have ever tread, penetrating cloth and etching against the skin with its incandescence. Everything, in its combination, summoned a foreboding which readily climbed its way through one's throat and into one's mind; edging along one's back, accentuated only by the chill which spread through every inch of one's flesh. The serene quiet would have been far more inviting were it not for the malignance which dwelled where their eyes did not reach. Thoughts disturbed by the finalizing sigh of Truth, having at last managed to tend to the last amongst their ramschackled group of misplaced misfortunates.
Whatever they had been would matter little now, they all could sense, as they surveyed one another with prodding gaze. Truth humoured their caution, for a time. When at last they had settled, and instead began to fix their attention upon the world which surrounded them, it became clear that it was not what they had once known. Any arcane veil had long since withered, and the remnants of war which encompassed as far as the horizon could reach, were no relics of any known nation or empire. Before them, there were only questions, and a headless 'man' who seemed all too aware of their fright-riddened curiosities.
What was this world?
Where was this world?
Truth grinned gingerly, or so it felt, for he released amidst the aether an uncanny giggle.
I much appreciate anyone who has come to this point in the interest check, and would hope that you are fascinated by my idea. I would like to first iterate, that this is a roleplay concept I have worked on for several years, and have failed to launch on at least two prior instances. So, if you had read it then, it should feel familiar. Though I doubt there are too many of such prior recollection. Either way, to progress from such rapid tirades, I will promptly mention that this idea is based in 'good' memories of many years of Dark Souls experience, with other additional inspirations from a variety of lesser known world religions, as well as some of my own worldbuilding over the years. I hope to make this a fascinating world for individuals to experience. Though, I will make it very clear, very early into this explanatory segment, that I have a more 'grim' sense of roleplay-craft, which means that the world, whether fair or not, is somewhat cruel and operates off of mechanisms of savagery. This might, perhaps, be rather obvious as the roleplay utilizes the 'post-apocalyptic' tag, but I felt the need to make mention of this either way. Some may not like this type of story, and that is no difficulty for me.
In continuation, my GMing tenure has not been the most fraught with bountiful successes, most having died due to a number of complications, some of which related to me. I hope to remedy this with this one, an idea and roleplay concept which I've held quite dear for a long time, and likely will continue to do for an ever longer span. I will not take in more than 4 to 5 dedicated participants, hoping therefore to perform this with a fascinated cast of participants with a curiosity and appreciation for relative freedom which does not lead into a roleplay's death due to lack of apparent direction. I would like to attract individuals who are mature enough not to cause troubles amongst one another, and least of all the setting. I like things to make sense within context, but am not so monolithic as to be imperceptible to reasonable discourse and differing of perspectives. Unlike what I might be presenting of myself, I am open to others' point of views, and appreciate greatly a sense of honesty amongst people where things are not veiled and where people can overcome their differences.
As for rules, I used to be the kind of individual who would make a horde of wide-spanning and needlessly complex rules to circumvent certain roleplayers' tendency towards the 'gaming' of stories and systems. But I have taken a step back from such practices, and now am far more liberal in what I expect from people. The kind of people I hope to attract are no doubt already aware of how decent human interactivity works, not needing me to moderate for them that 'you ought be nice to one another.' As for speed, or post-lengths, and any other things of the sort, I request nothing beyond the basic ability to produce functional english and interesting character interactions and world exploration. I, myself, cannot make more than at most one post a week, as my willpower is grounded down by weekday tasks, and I require most of the weekend to bring it back into proper order, and somewhere along the line I sit down to think and form IC contribution.
You can post at any speed you find most pleasant, and I would hope that any participants I may attract have a larger fascination for this idea than what would need daily posts to temper. In general, I would hope people can be patient and entertain this over a longer span of time. And I am somewhat aware that all this that I am asking might seem selfish, but truthfully I have no other choice if I want to experience this tale of mine with anyone who might find this interesting.
To summarize,
If you would like to participate in a 'mature' roleplay, whatever that might mean beyond including some more gruesome topics, though more specifically this roleplay. And are a 'mature' roleplayer, whatever that might mean beyond having the ability to retain interest over longer stretches than one week, I would adore having you. I would also like to make this very clear: I appreciate people being honest with me, and therefore, if you need to do something, or have lost interest, I would want to hear that. I would like to talk it out, and maybe come up with a way for you to find it fascinating again. Whoever 'you' are, I would like to find out soon.
Much obliged.
Last edited:
