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Drake lands in the Dark Forest [21 Jun 2006|05:23pm]

    I love smoking, it really relaxes me, but sometimes I seem to have a problem recalling details.
    I remember the fight at the pub, and I remember leaving before doing something rash. I even remember chasing that hare into the woods when I got hungry after smoking, and seeing the circle of glowing stones in the clearing; but after that I don’t remember a thing.
    It was at that moment I realized that I wasn’t in the clearing anymore, but that was the easiest change of scenery to explain; it didn’t seem that I had run that far into the trees before catching the rabbit in the clearing, but this forest stretched out as far as I could see. The trees of the forest I ran into were tall, but they seemed as sapling compared to the towers surrounding me. Also, it was dusk when I started smoking. I know that I sleep a fair amount when I’m high, but not longer than twelve hours; and it was the dead of night when I woke up. Not that I particularly cared about the time or where I was; I was simply confused by the difference of setting.
    Well, I guess I better get off my ass; there’s not a lot to do sitting here.
    I pushed myself off the ground and away from the tree I was leaned against, and spied on my location. Nothing too exciting; trees rustling, nocturnal wildlife flourishing, and a dull haze left over from the night’s excitement.
  I drew my blade and slashed a superficial mark on the tree I had slept with.
    “Nothing personal, I just like to know where I’ve been; though I doubt you understand, living your life stationary and all.” The behemoth shook his branches as if nodding in affirmation, and I turned away to look around some more. I drew my pipe, lighter, and stash from an inner pocket; lit a small amount; and set off to see what I could find.
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[Mina] Dark Corridors (tag open) [16 Jun 2006|08:26pm]

Oh how I hated treasure hunts. It always seemed like a childish frivolity to me, every time I went looking for something. This was no different, save the fact that the trinket I sought would supposedly help me out. I'd come alone to this lone fortress hidden deep in the Carpathian mountains. It wasn't such a spectacular complex. In fact, it was little more than ruins. The complexity of the matter lay in the secret passages that trailed deep into the caverns of the mountains. Too many paths... very easy to get lost.

I knew it would be difficult to maneuver, so I had done my research. In my studies, I had constructed an accurate map that would guide me to the precise location of this amulet. This amulet--Van Helsing's Bane--was said to restore a vampire to mortality when worn consistently for two weeks. I had been hassled by various parties with regard to what I would do with it once I found it. My fellow vampires thought I ought to destroy it, so that it could never be used to come up with something even more powerful to destroy us. The other party, the few trusted humans I'd fallen into contact with, believed I should use the amulet myself, and possibly turn it over to philosophers and scientists for study. I hadn't decided on which option I might pursue once I found it, but each had its benefits.

I rarely concerned myself with practicality in attire, and sported my standard black velvet coat and red scarf. Descending into the depths of this unnamed place (likely to once have been a home of some voivode long-dead) I had to note that the psychic energy was at a high. After my first few sets of broken stairs, I felt as though I'd broken through a force-field of sorts. The air felt different down here... everything seemed more...fresh?

Squinting out of a certain doubtfulness, I looked at the map one more time and took a series of right and left turns, before ascending another stair case. The passage narrowed until I had to crawl along it. Dead end... But not according to the map. Prying at what appeared to be some kind of iron grate in the wall, I finally was able to yank it off, and crawl into what looked like a corridor of sorts. But it was not dark and deserted as it should have been. There were candelabras lit. The windows were dusted, and the drapes were fresh. Nearby was a set of doors that opened onto a balcony, and the curtains were blowing the breeze. Beyond that, the moon hung low in the sky--a waning gibbous sitting amidst the shreds of gray clouds.

I paused, hearing footsteps. This couldn't have been right. Pulling out my map, I looked at it again. This should have been the chamber. I looked back at the opening I had crawled through to find that the grate had been restored. This place did not seem hostile, but I was almost positive I wasn't supposed to be here. I could sense other vampires, but they were all too busy to sense me. The footsteps were coming closer. What would I say? Should I run? Should I hide?
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[Adrien] The Manor in the Dark Forest (tag Dracula) [16 Jun 2006|01:24pm]

[ mood | devious ]

((immortalessence told me to adopt this neat little tagging system that came from cat_hyde so let's try it...))

Geoff seemed almost eager to get out of the Count's presence. As useful as my servant was, I doubted he would want to tour the estates he had come to know as home. I regarded him steadily as he made his way off before turning to the Count in response to his previous inquisition.

"The beauties and beasts in my dungeons, Vlad, are the creatures who have strayed into my land and refused to obey my orders. They have either defied me, betrayed me, or at worst, tried to kill me... some have tried to kill me several times, in fact," I smirked at the Count a bit. "They at least, make for worthy reserves. Hunting, while thrilling, can be utterly exhausting." I wasn't about to tell him the rather... deceitful ways I drew others into my realm. That was my business and explaining the physics of it might bore him, anyway.

"Well, the night is young and fast growing old, so let us waste no time with the tour. Right this way," I nodded in direction of the long hall and led the way. Walking under the arches of stone where stained glass windows loomed like forsaken angels--the great Heavens glimmering in the candlelight overhead. The floor spread out for yards ahead of us, tiled with elaborate mosaics constructed in the early 1500s.

"This room is taken straight from 16th century France," I commented, my boots clicking across the floor as I proceeded. Holding up the stone arches were figures of angels and demons, constructed of the finest marble. All was kept in mint condition. Hundreds of lit candelabras were seated within the wall, glimmering with an enhanced golden light. Above the center was a chandelier set with thousands of crystal shards that sparkled and reflected short beams of light off the walls. "My ballroom," I added with a wry smile, spinning at the center.

In the surrounding halls, the windows were fringed with thick wine-red velvet curtains sided with gold tassels, hiding yards of gossamer curtains that always seemed to be moving in an ethereal fashion underneath--tempted by ghostly winds and reminiscent illusions...

"As such, Vlad, I do believe it is, by order of proper etiquette, necessary to celebrate your arrival with a masquerade ball. If such an event would please you, I would be more than happy to arrange it. There are some... beings, in my lands, that you may have some alternative interest in..." I smiled, thinking of all the potential fun I could have with this... I knew there were more than a few rebellious creatures in my lands, and just such an event may serve as a secure place for me to capture them... or at that, it might give me the chance I had been seeking to catch Renee...

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WHAT? (tag open) [01 Jun 2006|09:20pm]

Mariaka woke to an empty cavern. Sitting up, she rubbed the back of her stiff neck. She didn't particularly like sleeping in the position she was in, but she supposed she had no choice. Throwing off the blanket, she got up as the memories of what had happened the previous night haunted her memories. So many thoughts betrayed her as she tried to make them all come together. Her mother's hellborn being trying to kill her, Caledrian being in extreme danger, and being consumed in black flames.

The flames were what bother Mariak the most. Renee had been able to hold them back though. Renee....

Quickly walking to where she suspected she'd be, in the outside way of the cavern, Mariaka could hear slight breathing with her keen sense of sound. Walking to where she heard it, she could see Renee's wings as she approached.

"Renee, I-OH MY GOD!!!" Mariaka yelled as she saw Renee and Ellemere's sleeping forms together. "WHAT HAPPENED TO FRIENDSHIPS FIRST!!?? That's how it was with me and Caledrian!"
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Another enters . . . Unaware. (Tag anyone.) [18 May 2006|10:29pm]

The blow from the opposing being hit Inteus square on the right side of the jaw and--although he was strong--he managed to land on the concrete of the new sidewalk. A snarl tilted his lip, one slender and lengthy canine flashing in the darkness as he cursed the ground beneath him.

Lifting his right arm, he wiped at the blood dripping along his chin, a red streak making itself present upon the tarnished white blouse he wore. He rocked forward, easily pushing himself onto his feet, teal eyes finally lifting from the ground to stare down his opponent. Yet, the other man was nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, neither was the busy road he'd been beside only moments before. Instead, he now stood in the midst of a large, dark forest, shadows looming only inches from his face. His right fang met the metal ring that was secured in the corner of his lip, the clicking soothing him some as he pondered on what could have possibly happened.

Tilting his head back, spiked sienna tresses slid from his face, turquoise orbs focusing on the moon above. It was in a different position here, as compared to where he'd only recently been. Left eyebrow lifted, two sterling spikes glinting beneath the moon's beams. A silent chuckle caused his torso to shake as he examined the area around him; worn, black leather squeaking as he adjusted his legs to spin him in a slow circle.

Unbuttoning his shirt, he withdrew a short dagger from his left hip, allowing the sharp blade to form two lengthy slits in the back of the flowing material. Slipping his arms back through, he re-fastened the attire, the slits of flesh visible seeming somewhat odd in the back. With a calm look on his face, he glanced about the shadows once more before two large, looming shadows erupted from his back, making their way through the slits he'd cut. The black and molting wings were easily twice as long as Inteus was tall, the appendages stretching to their full length rather stiffly before folding to his back once more. He sighed heavily; it had been a while since he'd been in a place secluded enough to show his true self.

Shirt billowing, his left arm lifted, running his fingers through his hair as he contemplated what to do now that he was in this area. He knew--by logic--that since he didn't know how he'd gotten here, he wouldn't know how to get out. With a sigh, his tongue raked across his left canine, another audible clicking sound noticeable in the silence of the night. He shook his head softly, his boots sounding rather loud as he made his way to nowhere in particular . . .
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One Mission...(Tag open) [18 May 2006|09:37pm]

Caledrian wasn't sure where he was going, or what he was doing. Walking away from the grove of trees, he felt the irresistable urge to go back to where he was and seek the entity he felt there. But his will-power to do so was weaker than his instincts to stay far away from that grove of trees. And his instincts had gotten him out of enough scraps for him to trust them.

But this forest held nothing for him. Hell, he didn't know how he ended up here. One minute, he's at the Goddess's temple to ask for help to find Mariaka, the next he's smack in the middle of a forest filled with creatures he didn't feel like dealing with. It was the creatures themselves that angered him, it was their temper and idea that they are of a hierarchy. He'd been around enough to be able to feel the arrogance of another. And this forest was full of it, as much as it was full of ego. Vampires, wolves, dragons, dark entities, and whatever. He didn't care. The less distractions, the better for him. His only goal was finding Mariaka then getting them out of here.

He always had the thought that since he gave up his soul, he wouldn't have cared for Mariaka or her safety. Oddly enough, she was the only one he felt that he should care for. The others he could cast off his back for all he cared. As much as he'd grittingly admit it, he couldn't function without her. Granted she was fifty years his junior, both stopped aging and both had been in the company of one another for decades. He loved her, and anyone who was near them before the 'incident' as Mariaka tenderly puts it, knew it. Before he gave up his soul, they had a short relationship and although he had been the one to say they shouldn't continue, he is also the one who wished he didn't say it.

Sneering at the thought of his loss, Caledrian started walking to wherever his feet wanted him to go. In doing so, he found himself at a small clearing that looked like it had been burnt out a long time ago...
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[Ellemere] The Dreams of Dragons (tag open) [11 May 2006|06:38am]

[ mood | zzzzZZzzzzzZzZZzzzZZzzzzz.... ]

Ellemere, ever the gentlebeast (as it were) had left the heated inner chamber to the two women, who he imagined would prefer a bit of privacy. He himself was playing watch-dragon in the next chamber, curled up in a nest of fabric that had turned out surprisingly comfortable. /Right, well, I think I won the improvisation award for the evening,/ he thought as he drifted off. He was still in human form, but more aware than ever that he might need to shed it at a moment's notice. There were worse than human things threatening them in this place.

The dreams of Dragons are the dreams of flight. They are dreams of an unspoiled world, of endless green lands unfolding underneath the spread of one's wings, prey bolting for cover beneath one's shadow...and endless lazy afternoons sunning on high crags untouched by human adventurers. Flying at sunset, crimson light at one's back and the taste of your last meal's blood still in one's mouth. Ellemere did not dream of the ruin that had gone afterward, or the war humankind had waged against Dragonkind and all other supernatural races. He had trained his mind to reject such forays into impotent anguish, even in dreams. But he still woke each time with a terrible feeling of poignancy, and a longing for what had been. Useless emotions, of course. But there they were. And so he acknowledged them and set them back on the shelf with all the other sad memories he'd rather not recall.

Movement in his chamber. He was awake instantly, hands flexing and one eye opening, spilling a faint gleam of golden light into the room. Intruder? He'd change if he had to, though it would shred his new bedding.

His nostrils twitched. No. Not an intruder.

He relaxed at once, keeping his breathing slow and even. He closed his eyes again, listening to the tiniest whisper of clothing marking his visitor's movements. Not knowing if she was coming to investigate his "sleeping" form or on her way out for a while, Ellemere lay still, not wishing to make her feel any chagrin for waking him.

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[Daimon] What the hell is this, now? (tag open) [05 May 2006|01:10pm]

[ mood | Confused ]

Daimon had been getting his James Bond on at a Baccarat table in Monaco, laying down his chips with a vacuous blonde jockeying for position at either of his elbows. The air conditioning had turned the posh casino into a meat locker; he was wearing his black calfskin tailored suit and not even breaking a sweat. /Not bloody bad at all,/ he was thinking as he read the dealer's mind and bet. The good thing about rigged games was that they were completely predictable; since he'd walked into the room, the house had had to split its take with him because he kept betting what would win.

When the brick wall in a suit lumbered up behind his seat and told him the owner wanted a word, well...that wasn't all that surprising either. After all, he'd come in wearing a different face yesterday, and done the same thing, and had a visit with the owner within two hours. Such visits were always a little tense, but...Daimon always went into them with an ace up his sleeve anyway.

So the brick wall led him into the back and Daimon stepped through the door after him--and Narnia-style, straight out into a dark cold forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. "What the bloody hell is this now?" he inquired of nobody in particular as he spun around to discover the door he had just gone through gone--and Monaco with it.

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[Danica] The Dead Lake (tag open) [02 May 2006|02:47pm]

[ mood | Crafty ]

"Well, that was certainly interesting." From her listening-point across the lake, she had learned a great deal, even if she never got close enough to see the others through the fog. There were vampires and a werewolf about. Head East to avoid them.

Her stomach was now full, and the cat had grown from its meal of fish-bones until it was the size of a small panther. It leapt down with a clatter and looked up at her as she hopped down out of the tree.

"Vampires, werewolves and lunatic would-be highwaymen. Back in Bukovina it was just superstitious townsfolk and one dead-and-skinned attempted rapist. We are decidedly not in the Carpathians anymore."

It pissed her off. She'd tracked down Hunendora's general location specifically to return that damned coin to Dracula's home, and now she was...elsewhere, most decidedly, and the natives were unfriendly. "Bet there's not a single guy in this shithole even worth having a drink with," she grumbled as she walked over to the edge of the lake.

The lake was dead; boiled to death by whatever had landed in it. It would be useless to sustain any form of life outside of the bacteria feeding on its assorted corpses for years to come. To a necromancer, however, it was anything /but/ useless.

She reopened the wound in her palm with her knife and dripped it into the steaming water as she began to sing in Old Slavonic. The harsh, rolling syllables echoed through the fog for a few minutes as she concentrated. Then she opened her eyes...and stared down at her hand.

A drop of blood hung suspended between her hand and the water. Then it moved slowly upwards...and slid back into the gap in her skin. A few droplets of water rose to follow it. She winced slightly and kept incanting. The droplets became more frequent, and then became a trickle. Her palm stung terribly as the dark, dead water slapped against the wound and its death-energy poured drop by precious drop into her body.

The water boiling up from the surface to touch her flesh looked like black wine now, with flecks of bilious foam clinging to it. She shivered violently, feeling the chill from it slide into her bones and wishing, suddenly and fervently, that she had a warm bed to slide into and sleep this off afterward.

Her face was as white as a vampire's by the time she was done, and speckled with cold sweat. Trembling and panting, she straightened, focusing the black energy down into a coruscating ball inside of her. /Now I'm feeling a bit better-armed,/ she thought. /Though I'd be happiest if we could find a cemetery./

"Where to now, kitty?"

The cat surprised her by turning and walking due south.

"Huh. Well, all right." She followed.

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Ellemere's Bad Night (tag open, anyone looking at the sky) [24 Apr 2006|02:30pm]

[ mood | Gah! WTF? ]

Ellemere's bad night started out like this: him backed into a corner for the first time in eight centuries, an inch from transformation in front of a group of heavily-armed humans, while the fire they'd set crept across the floor of his San Francisco flat towards a thousand-year collection of spellbooks, alchemical formulae and magickal goodies. Fucking hunters had actually mistaken him for a magus; ironically, the disguise that had kept him safe for centuries had now bought him all sorts of trouble. Now they kept wondering why the bullets they kept pumping into him weren't working.

His urbane surface persona cracked a split-second before all Hell broke loose: dark hazel eyes flashing gold as his lips curled back from teeth showing entirely too many points. An envelope of superheated air rose around him as his rage slipped its tether. /You squashy little bipeds. Time to d--/

The explosion was like nothing he had ever experienced--the sound blew his eardrums right away, and as he threw his arms up to cover his face he slammed all the way through the far wall in absolute and eerie silence. The physical part of his magical hoard had gone up like C4; as cinderblocks smashed against his bones, he assumed his native form out of sheer self-preservation. He had a split second to wonder what the good people of San Francisco would make of a hundred-foot-long, mahogany-colored (and currently flaming) saurian tumbling into their streets at midday--before realizing that what was on the other side of the wall wasn't his favorite city at all.

/What in bloody Hell is going on?/ he thought as he made a flaming, flailing, astonishedly-roaring streak across the sky of the Night Forest, trailing bits of burning wood and crushed cinderblock. He had enough time to realize that perhaps burning so much magickal stuff in one place might have caused a few inopportune side effects--teleportation among them--before slamming into a smallish lake hard enough to knock even a Dragon unconscious.

He woke in human form, fully regenerated but nearly naked and quite put out. The whole area was covered in fog from his landing; he noticed that the lake's water level was about six feet lower than it had been, and there were various dead, nicely-boiled fish floating on the surface.

Grabbing one and taking a bite out of it (having to regenerate that much always gave him the munchies), Ellemere peered around thoughtfully. /Black Forest of Germany? Someplace in the Carpathians? Looks like it. I wonder how long until the military helicopters show up./ His landing had been anything but inconspicuous.

Hurriedly, he made his way out of the water, pausing to toy with the scorched rags of his trousers. /Well, at least I can find the nearest village without my bits hanging out./ A muttered mending-spell took care of the mess, but he shivered a little and realized his sweater was too much of a loss to reweave. Shirtless, shoeless, and entirely without clue as to where he was, Ellemere sighed, checked which side of the trees the moss was on, and started heading north, hoping he would run into something. He finished the fish in a few large bites and tossed what was left of the bones behind him.

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[Danica] Blood for Soil (tag open) [17 Apr 2006|03:33pm]

[ mood | Hungry ]

The wind moaned softly between the black, hulking trees as Danica Grey padded silently down the forest path. She was thoroughly lost, and pissed off about it; she was smarter than this. Her map was so useless that she might have wandered off one of its edges by now and not known it. What irony. Hunendora Castle might have been a myth, but the site where it was supposed to be was well marked, and she couldn't understand how she'd managed to lose her way. Even a finding-charm had done nothing but lead her to this path, which she now followed because she had no other options before her.

She was tallish and slim, with almost colorless skin, slightly sunken eyes and flat black hair cut to her shoulders. She wore heavy trousers, boots, a turtleneck and a broad black shawl of wool that wrapped around her several times. Her pack was slung across her back, stuffed full of books, writing tools, occult knicknacks and two changes of clothes.

She was hungry and cold and growing tired of walking. Hunendora, like all the other legendary ruins she had visited in her trip to the Carpathians, was a dusty promise of hidden knowledge unearthed. She had already found two books of sorcerous lore, written in Old Slavonic and bound in human skin, under a flagstone in a Romanian church. There had to be more around here...and she wasn't leaving without it. All the old Kolduns and Kolunias were dead, wiped out first by Christendom and then by Communism. Only by the grace of her grandmother's senile ramblings had Danica learned about her heritage at twelve and been able to start pursuing it. She begged, earned or stole as much magical knowledge as she could get her hands on, finding her hunger for said knowledge just as potent as her hunger for power.

But the path of a magician is a solitary one, and there were no nobles anymore--here, in the States or in general--to extend patronage and keep her from becoming an outcast among her own kind. She had lost her family; she had no friends; eventually her sense of isolation in a crowd had driven her from her birth country entirely. She had come here in search of pieces of the heritage that was all she had left. And now? She seemed quite ready to die of exposure in the middle of the damned woods.

She came to a stop at a crossroads and looked each way, seeing only arrow-straight path in four directions, and the forest lining it like giants at attention. Sighing, she unshouldered her pack and set it down. The crossroads didn't help her much, but it gave her the opportunity to do something she'd meant to since entering a true wilderness for the first time since her trip started.

She found the exact center of the crossroads and knelt down there, drawing out one of the knives on her belt. Slicing her palm open delicately, she poked a finger into the dark, rich soil earth and dripped blood into it as she incanted in a language that hadn't been spoken in this area for over five centuries.

"Hail to the land and the Lord of the land; hail to my ancestors who sleep beneath its soil. May wind and wolf spare me their bite; may the black earth lend strength to a daughter returned."

The wind went quiet for a moment, and then rose to a shriek; it whirled all around the crossroads, but the air closest to Danica was still. Something stirred in the dirt; she looked down and saw bones pushing up to the surface. A skull broke through, followed by neck vertebrae and then a rattling forepaw. It looked like a cat skeleton.

The thing dragged itself from the dirt, shook itself off, and looked up at her with empty eye sockets. It trotted away down one of the forks in the road, then looked back at her over its bony shoulder.

Danica actually smiled. "Now that looks like something resembling progress."

She got up, sheathed her knife and grabbed her bag, starting after the bone-cat without batting an eye.

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An eternity of unsatisfying evenings. [15 Dec 2005|12:30am]

[ mood | brooding ]

OOC: Screw it, I'm starting! Feel free to jump in.

I am of the persuasion, that any creature that can be deemed 'feminine,' is a lost cause. Yet, it would seem to me that in my immortal state, the only thing I do is pursue those of female natures. This is probably due to the fact that at least they have enough personality changes in four hours to keep me entertained. One minute, they want to spend the rest of their lives with you, and the next, they want you to drop off the face of the earth. It's absolutely fascinating.

But there are always exceptions to rules, aren't there? Take Renee for instance. She can be as gentle, caring, and innocent as a unicorn... and yet her traits, when it comes to me, seem to coincide more often with those of an aggravated tigress; an aggravated tigress with wings. She frustrates me so, but I enjoy the game. I map her every move, of course, not simply because she intrigues me, but because I have always had this nagging feeling in the back of my head that somehow she is the key to some apocalyptic event in the near future. I could be dead wrong though. I've been wrong before.

Sometimes, it's just so difficult to be in charge of the world...

I don't think there has been one night in my centuries of undeath in which I was completely satisfied with my evening catch. Prey seems to give in too easily, or pass out from the whole stress of the matter. That takes all the fun out of it. Well, I'm certain they don't find it to be 'fun'...and since when was someone ever nice to a vampire anyway? My own species seems to be wary of me! We understand treachery too well, we vampires... our entire society is built on a complex of sin and sultry invitations... still I am below the devil. I rule the hell of hells, the nightmares of the dream world, the fears of this waking reality... I say and do as I please, and when the world screams, I laugh. It's almost boyish of me I suppose. When duty comes to call, I won't be around to answer it.

Even as I followed Renee deep into the forests of the night, I contemplated better traps for my little tigress... Becoming the shadows, I loomed behind her in a darker thought than the arch of her wings. The sense of power--the rush of it all, is so great when one appears to be larger and above an angel, even if she is a fallen one. I bask in the control of her dreams, her every erotic fantasy, her every fluid movement... she is a challenge, that is for certain. She probably always will be...

Yet tonight I intend to alleviate a bit of her angelic stubborn-ness. There is no refusing the King of the Night...

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Welcome! [13 Sep 2005|08:48pm]

Welcome to darkforestrpg!

The premise of this rpg is still in the works, however, if you would kindly take a moment to look over the User information, your comments, ideas, and better yet, applications, are appreciated.


The moderator of darkforestrpg
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