“…the road from envy to hate is a short one. The road back from hate is an impossibly short one…”
They call it a curse; one that snatches the young by black mark at birth or trauma. Their demon blood is quickly purged when symptoms show, symptoms unmistakable. Are you going to stop this, or are you one of them?
Anirch, the people of the mark share a commonality of the wild. They are patrons of the beast they emblazon; every Anirch is granted their animal’s strength and specialties.
There is little known about this condition of the Anirch; only that the black mark can be anywhere and takes a variety of shapes. Almost all look completely human except for their mark, which they hide, but the rare one will have permanent oddities, such as wings, tail or eyes of their creature. All Anirch can shift their form to take on part of their patron animal. A fish Anirch likely develops fins and gills while a bird might sprout wings from their back or a cat might develop claws and tail.
(Disclaimer. Concept inspired by +Anima, idea is recycled from dead forum, expect aspects of moral analysis and philosophy)
–Rules–
The usual, no godmoding, stay in character, ect…
Respect the GM (Game Master, aka Me) one or two characters per person.
Try to keep the pace, only two posts per person between mine.
PQ to apply, send questions and your character sheet.
–Character sheet–
Name: (first and last, or you will need an explanation for the one name here too)
Race: (human or Anirch. No anthros)
Age: (over 13)
Gender: (yah, you know what this is)
Mark, and where it is: (only for Arirch, and please be descriptive. See mine as an example)
Anirch form: (also only for Anirch, If you’re a bird, you probably sprout wing from you back that resemble your species, for a fish, you probably get a tail and gills.)
Personality: (a lot here or a little, help us to know you)
Appearance: (again, be descriptive)
Weapons/tools: (keep the amount within reason, you aren’t carrying an arsenal)
Background?: (optional here, but I want to know)
–Example character sheet (also a key NPC[Non-Player-Character])–
Name: Stride of Nyx (he left his birth name behind years ago with his home)
Race: Anirch
Age: 19
Gender: male
Mark, and where it is: two sets of twisting lines that resemble hackles. Both sets lie on the back of his neck, closer to his shoulders. Both his hair and coat cover his marks at all times
Anirch form: ears become those of an oversized wolf’ nearly six inches in length. His hands and feet become for wolf-like with fur, thick pads and claws but maintain factors such as finger length, dexterity and thumbs. This form grants greater senses (especially scent and sound) and endurance.
Personality: confidant but wary of people; he tends to keep to smaller towns and villages. When on the road or elsewhere away from eyes, he’ll relax into his Anirch form which he far prefers to his normal due to the extra senses. His natural wanderlust keeps him moving which is good for his survival.
Appearance: his face is rough and lean with a sharp jaw-line. His shoulder-length hair and goatee are both the color of sun-stained slate. He wears a black button-down shirt, grey straight-cut pants and a long, brown coat; all of which have numerous pockets and straps. His hat is a wide-brim of the same leather as his coat. His eyes are fierce silver.
Weapons/tools: staff, knife, matches, and strong twine
Background: an Anirch from birth, his parents did the unthinkable and raised him with love rather than killing him like most would. They concealed his cursed nature from the rest of the village for as long as they could but when he first shifted his form at age seven he was seen, captured and reported to the inquisition. Before trial and execution could be carried out, he was rescued by a long-time friend of the family and sent off with a woodsman by name of Graves. From there, he learned much of trapping, forestry and survival. He was recently captured by the inquisition while trading furs and has since been locked in the cathedral of Tarice.
–Setting/Start–
A number of the mark-born freaks and sympathizers have been found and will be examined by the high inquisitor before execution. The unlucky scum are locked together in a room on the second floor of the cathedral in castle town Tarice. The priests there are divided between pity toward their prisoners, fear of Anich on the whole, and loathing of the inquisition. You start in that cathedral, weapon and tools taken when you got there.
Start publishing on
DD Comics!
Advertise with us
rp catagory
Intolerance
name:Brenton Miller
race:human
age:19
gender:male
personality:his cool calm collected with a strong heart and has trust issues
appearence:Brenton Miller has cacasein skin black hair and brown eyes his skinny
weapons/tools: weapon:a sword your average weapon he came across during a war
tools:poison darts and smoke bombs why? cause he dosnt really trust any1
background:Brenton had always had a normal life until weird creatures killed his family so he vowed for revenge
Name: Ssayna
Race: Anirch
Age: 29
Gender: Female
Mark: A rectangular frame about two times as long as wide and with crooked sides, the lines barely a finger's width at the widest point, enclosing a wide cat's eye and touching it at the top and bottom sides; both frame and mark emit symmetric waves that fade with progressing length; the eye shows 4 waves centering around the middle, the frame shows eight, one on each corner and two each per short side; the mark is positioned on her left side, about a hand's width away from the navel and reaches from the edge of her hips to the lower side of the rib cage
Appearance: Five feet six tall; her face is lean and slender with sharp contours that however don't look like it on first glance, her harried, muddy yellow eyes semi concealed by strands of often greasy, almost waist length black hair; her body seems frail and thinner than natural or healthy, but does carry some wild strength some might call authoritative; to call her overall appearance beautiful is point of view, even if she's washed, rouged and clothed regally
Weapons: All small kinds of weapons if necessary; preferably a rope
That’s great Pico, I’m impressed :) . A couple of aspects need ironing out; I’ve sent it to you via PQ so that the fine-tuning isn’t so public. You can edit your post if you want to make changes
————————————————————–
Candle light filters patchily through the floorboards of the chapel’s improvised cell from the rooms below. Dust dances demurely through the beams of light as the occupants sit in various forms of dejection, denial, and dismay. Presenty the sound of sandled feet can be heard coming up the stone stairs and into the hallway outside the cell.
Priest: “I never would have thought our cathedral would come to this; a place of light and faith become a prison.” *he Sigh in his airy voice and unlocks the small flap at the bottom of the thick wooden door. Momentarily a wooden tray slips through before the flap is hastily closed and locked again. The tray holds 3 loaves of brown bread, a round of sharp cheese, and a large clay pitcher of water.*
Stride: *stands from his position in the corner by the door, a sardonic smile on his face and his form blasphemously animalistic.* “ah, food for the hounds. Thank you jailer for this bountiful meal.” *he bows sarcastically.”
Priest: “it’s better fare than the inquisition will give you.” *he says, stiffly.* “they are arriving tonight, any minute now. I don’t like it any better than you.”
Ssayna: *the moment the tray slides through the flap, she stands up from the corner of the cell that's the farthest away from the door; hastily and with hunted look, she rushes over to the tray and snatches one of the loaves, rips a piece of cheese out and paces back into her corner, not caring that half of her piece of cheese crumbled and fell back on the tray; crouched down in the corner, she begins to devour the food noisily and voraciously*
This isn’t really a prison but rather a cathedral. The cell is an upstairs room that has been made into a cell recently. No cafeteria nor real guards.
It measures 10x15 feet with stone walls and wooden floor. There are several wooden benches nailed to the floor and a chamberpot in one of the back corners. The door is thick oak with a flap at the bottom and a small section of bars near the top.
——————————————————————————
Stride: “ah, a newcomer. Be you man or beast in this lion’s den?” *he chuckles to himself * “it doesn’t matter, they’ll burn you with the rest of us.”
Ssayna: *as Brenton is pushed on the floor next to her, she grabs the rest of her food that's left, a bite of cheese still in her mouth, and paces into the opposite corner until she notices she is directly approaching Stride; like a deer in the headlights, she stops and looks around the cell, panicking, until she crouches down near the chamberpot, seemingly unaffected by the unpleasant smell*
Pico, Brenton is locked in the same cell as the others. There is only one cell. You control Brenton and only Brenton; not guards and not anyone else.
———————————————————————
Stride: "do you really think that will work? face the facts; you are damned like the rest of us." *picks up loaf of bread and takes a bite.* "it's hardly worth wasting your energy now when you can do nothing."
-Outside- rain pours from the dark sky in sheets as black carriage driven by four horses pulls up to the cathedral. As a young boy goes to take the reins from the driver, six men dressed in long black cloaks make their way up the steps and into the cathedral. After knocking, the priests reluctantly let the Inquisitions in.
Andrew, High Inquisitioner: “I’m in no mood to tarry tonight, but I like the weather even less. Have food made up for us, the horses groomed and the prisoner’s cage readied.” *He speaks clear and brusquely with the expectation that his orders be followed.* “where are you keeping the cursed; are they secure?”
Eric, Priest: “they are locked in a room upstairs; quite secure. Do you wish to see them now?”
Andrew: “No, they can wait till after we’ve eaten.”
Ssayna: *mumbles to herself* Silence him, someone silence him already! *she winces and turns around to Brenton, still crouching on the floor* WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY?! *hate burns in her eyes as she stares at Brenton, then, surprised and scared by her own outburst, she winces again, fear puts the fire out and she retreats even further into the corner, making herself as small of a target as possible while retaining an option for quick escape*
Stride: “that’s hardly an ultimatum when they already plan on killing you.” *he mutters half to himself and half to Brenten.* “still, I like the sound of the word escape. Anybody have any ideas?” *he looks to the others intently.* “anything that doesn’t kill us, that is.”
Stride: “the cathedral belongs to the twelve divine; gods of creation. Their will represented on earth would be Serine Farseer, high-priestess and empress. Still, she rules the land and lives in the Holy city of Amoranth; nearly fifty leagues from here. I seriously doubt she would come to see us when she can damn us quite well from her palace.” *snorts half in distain before giving the idea more thought.* “Swiping the key is a good idea though, but the bars are only at the top of the door; you’d never get the chance. Maybe if they were distracted and the door was open?" *looks directly at Brenton* "Are you a practiced theif?”
Ssayna: *staring at the ceiling unmoved by her inmates' plan forging, she starts mumbling to herself fast and muffled as if reciting lyrics or a text; her voice is hoarse, husky and rasping from long disuse* Lay fire, start a rebellion, ambush the priest, rip the benches off and break the door open, scream and cry until they enter to be assaulted, squeeze through the bars, anger them until they kill me, smash their heads in and eat them, smash my head in on the wall, smash my head in on the pot, smash my head in on the benches, smash my head in on them, eat myself, famish- *she halts with open mouth; her gaze turns towards the door in a hasty, jerky move and up to the bars* … Famish and squeeze through the bars… *she stands up as if in trance, suddenly quiet and calm as if she forgot her whole surroundings, standing right in front of the door, she assesses the distance between the bars and compares the measure to her own, slim body* … Famish and squeeze through the bars… But how much time…? *her nervosity returns and sweat pearls form on her face* How much…? *she crouches down and remains immobile, except for the shiver that holds firm control over her body, then, without the slightest warning, she jumps up and against the door, grabbing hold of the bars, but she is already too weak from hunger and dread to pull herself up and loses grasp; she falls hard, although her toe tips dangled barely one foot above the floor*
Stride: *tactfully takes a few steps away from the door and Ssayna.* “okay…I’m the sane one today. Gods forgive that I get locked up with…nevermind.” *he cuts himself off knowing the thought useless.* “okay, Plan. Plan, plan, plan.” *he rubs his temples, careful of his claws. He speaks softly with his eyes closed* “I can hear inquisitioners downstairs and breaking down the door would take too long so it isn’t going to work. We could fight when they come to get us but they’ll be expecting that. we could…” *looks at the food flap on the door and then at Ssayna measuringly.* “Brenton, help me get a bench. I think we could snap the lock on the flap in one or two strikes if we use a bench as a battering ram. It will be loud, and the gap is likely too small for us but Ssayna would fit. Once on the other side, she could find the key.”
Stride: *helps Brenton flip the heavy bench over and move it into position mearly a few inches above the ground. Like a pendulum they swing the bench back before letting it crash into the flap. The door rattles, the oak of the flap cracks and a the crash of the bench seems to echo off the stone walls. Twice more the bench connects before the hasp on the flap jingles away and the flap flies opens violently. Stride can hear the inquisition rousing and heading for the stairs through his animalistic ears.* “Go!” *He shouts to Ssayna under his breath.* “get out there and find the key! If you can sneak it to us and spring us loose, than by the gods do so! You!” *he turns to Brenton wildly.* “get the chamberpot and stand close to the wall by the door. It’s clay, so you may only get one swing but use it when the inquisitioners get here.” *stride than proceeds to gouge his forehead with a claw and sprawl in the middle of the cell as though he’d been struck in the head. By now, the inquisitioners can be heard running heavily up the stairs.*
Ssayna: *without hesitation, she squeezes through the gap violently, accidentally ripping the side of her linnen vest open; rushed panting, she looks around the nave to see dancing torchlight shining down from the stairway; a quick look back to the cell she was imprisoned in just a second ago, and immediately she runs off for the main door, only to find it locked* … Darn it! Darn it, darn it, darn it, darn it- *the sound of the alarmed inquisitioners cuts her off; her heart pumping with agony, she hides in the shadows and observes the inquisitioners and the priest approaching; the rope around the waist of the priest's robe catches her eye* The keys! *frightened by how loud her voice was, she silences herself again and hides deeper within the shadows; as she is convinced the jailers didn't hear her, she gazes across the nave again, trying to come up with some sort of plan; without success*
The lead inquisitioner collapse to the floor, but the remaining five surround Brenton with drawn long swords. At this range it is apparent that they wear armor under their clothes but not on their heads.
Andrew, High Inquisitioner: “we are tasked to bring you to Amoranth; alive was not specified.” *He says simply, the threat and distain clear in his voice.* “Get down on your knees and surrender and you get to make the journey alive.” *he gestures to two of his companions and they proceed to put manacles on the seemingly unconscious Stride and haul their fallen companion to his feet.* “I was told that there were three ingrates for me to collect; where’s your friend?”
In the hall, the cathedral’s priest from earlier (Eric) stands anxiously, glancing about. After a time, something seems to catch his eye in the shadows; he stares out of the corners of his eyes into Ssayna’s hiding place for a long moment before looking purposefully away. Absently, he tugs at keys by his waist and frees them from the rope. As one of the Inquisitioners hauls the limp form of stride from the cell, he drops the keys and takes a step back to conceal them with his habit.
Eric, Priest: “the prisoner’s cage is ready for you; it’s just outside in the stables.” He looks at Ssayna’s hiding place and speaks while the inquisitioner’s back is turned.* “Go down the main stairs, through the door on the left, down stairs again into undercroft and across to the groom’s tunnel. At the end you will find a ladder into the stables; a longer path but it will keep you dry.”
Inquisitioner: “Never mind that tripe; I’m already wet and there’s no way I’m dragging this demon up a ladder in the dark. Thanks for the advice, father” *he sneers over his shoulder.*
Eric, Priest: “should I fetch the prisoner’s personal items from the undercroft for you?”
Inquisitioner: “no point.” *he says as he descends the stairs.* “they won’t need them where they are going.”
Advertise with us
DDComics is community owned.
The following patrons help keep the lights on. You can support DDComics on Patreon.
- Banes
- JustNoPoint
- RMccool
- Abt_Nihil
- Gunwallace
- cresc
- PaulEberhardt
- Emma_Clare
- FunctionCreep
- SinJinsoku
- Smkinoshita
- jerrie
- Chickfighter
- Andreas_Helixfinger
- Tantz_Aerine
- Genejoke
- Davey Do
- Gullas
- Roma
- NanoCritters
- Teh Andeh
- Peipei
- Digital_Genesis
- Hushicho
- Palouka
- Cheeko
- Paneltastic
- L.C.Stein
- Zombienomicon
- Dpat57
- Bravo1102
- TheJagged
- LoliGen
- OrcGirl
- Fallopiancrusader
- Arborcides
- ChipperChartreuse
- Mogtrost
- InkyMoondrop
- jgib99
- Call me tom
- OrGiveMeDeath_Ind
- Mks_monsters
- GregJ
- HawkandFloAdventures
- Soushiyo