• Closed • Bad Intentions

Troubled times are ahead, and this circumstance is no different.

Seated on the shores of Lake Lovalus, Rharne serves as the home of the Lighting Knights, the Thunder Priestesses, and the Merchant's guild. This beautiful trade city is filled with a happy and contented people who rarely need an excuse to party.

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Patrick
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He felt her fingers trace from his elbows to the wrists and somehow felt a little more at ease, the sensation of warmth he felt made her in fact seem quite human. Indeed the only thing that didn't humanize her was her eyes, which the fiery hues seemed alight as they stared upon him confidently. Patrick felt himself give in and for a brief period found himself beguiled by her affection.

The sound of her helping him relax cracked a smile at the lips while Patrick followed along, his gaze oft shifted between the lady's features as well as assets. Stray thoughts were prevalent when he admired the forms of her curves, and when she brought him to sit before a mirror, Patrick chuckled as he felt her fingers pressured into the muscles of his flesh. She was good at what she did, that much he would give her credit for to say the least. How many men had she lured and tempted with these massages? Already he'd melted into her hands and he was never this easy towards others, yet alone a woman much like this one presented herself as to say the least.

She played the game well.

"Surely you're mistaken." He remarked when she murmured of being ugly. "Though I've never been one to deny myself 'comfort' from strangers, you sure enough are an' allurin' woman yer self." The compliment was parted with a loose smile towards the lady, his eyes diverted to the mirror where she had asked his observation. What did he see? Plain and simple he saw nothing but them two, the candle had halfway burned down in his time here but that was irrelevant. Or was it...

Patrick dropped the candle to pivot around and grasp the woman by her features, his hands pulled and tucked to bring her down onto his lap. "Ya really want to know what I see?" He whispered in her ear in an attempt at seduction; while he could've been plain about this moment, his eyes focused into hers to distract while his right hand moved lower from her backside. "I see this. Us. Two strangers with no strings attached, and I'm curious to see what that means to you." He answered with a lean in closer to her while his hand felt her thigh, his lips puckered into a kiss as he smooched the lady with suave confidence.

He wasn't out of the game yet.
word count: 416
"Freedom is everything."


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Flattery could get a man very far when it came to seeking out comfort and pleasure. Especially to a mortal woman with a weak heart. Her hands faltered at his words, her eyes glittering as her cheeks burned pink. Before she could respond to him the candlelight was going out as the flame fell through the air. A streak of smoke filtered the candlestick as it rolled away. She gave a slight giggle as she was pulled around in his lap. She wrapped an arm securely around his neck to prevent her from falling completely over the other side by the momentum her body provided. Her right leg was folded and her left leg was outstretched, revealing most of her thigh. She teetered carefully, the blond curls bouncing as her body melted into his arms.

It was very tempting to allow this to happen. To let every burning desire the two of them were feeling take hold of them; however, she had come to this location with a goal in mind. Heat, the taste of masculinity; all of it stimulated her and tantalized her to let go as his lips met hers. She allowed them to linger before leaning back, breaking the sensation. "Patrick," she started. He had been so preoccupied with her looks and the seduction she laid on him that he had not even considered how she knew his name. "You are perfect. I only wish I could take the time to participate in the suggestions you have. Alas, there is something I must show you."

She remained in his lap, tucking her leg down until both knees were bent. She pulled herself up, lacing kisses along his jawline and down his neck. Her lips would bounce between his shoulder and jaw as she spoke. "When the shop above us burned down, I lost something near and dear to me. That dog was one of my greatest creations. She was a plaything, and the world was her playground. I wanted to see the world fear her very existence. Now, she is gone. Nothing but dust on the wind."

Her words would probably align her mental capacity with lunacy. What woman created a dog? Why would she want the world to fear something that was supposed to be loyal, cute, and fluffy? Having kept his attention long enough to release the glamor she had spun on the reflection, the woman ran a finger down one side of his face. She wanted him to look into the mirror now. Her physical form remained that of a blond woman in a black dress with fiery eyes. Her reflection in the mirror showed a creature far uglier than the seductress she had disguised herself as. The demon had her head buried in his shoulder as the physical woman continued to kiss along the shirt. She tugged it away with normal fingers while the reflection seemed to claw at the cloth. She was scantily clad in bra and loincloth revealing charcoal skin with paw-like feet. Great wings were tucked into his arm and a tail passionately wagged in front of his leg.

Syroa.

"I think I will replace my bitch dog with a kitty. How do you feel about being my pussy cat?" The question was rhetorical. She expected it would go unanswered. The woman opened her mouth to reveal sharp fangs. Without warning, she sank her teeth into the soft juncture of his neck and shoulder. Blood floated into her mouth and she sucked greedily. Immortals were insatiable, and her anger at her other Sessfiend's destruction fueled her desire for a new one. When she pulled away the wounds would not linger. Instead, a silvery bite mark remained.
word count: 618
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I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be then me.
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Patrick
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He felt what he believed were similar intentions with her, in fact she did seem quite willing if not wanting for this to happen. Here. It was a peculiar place of choice Pat would give it that, but he was never one to turn down a good romp with a stranger when opportunity presented itself. They traded dances with their tongues briefly just before she pulled away, her face in a blush as she seemed to vividly enjoy the romance that ensued.

He smiled deviously when she mentioned that she had something for him, something he would have to see which was interpreted quite differently. Patrick felt the heat of her kisses on his jawline as she continued, the story of a dog she used to own until something happened to it. Wait. She created this dog? But that didn't make sense, how could a human... Patrick's lustful eyes fixated on her with perplexity, the mood quickly changed as he realized something was off. This woman who looked normal save for her eyes... she wasn't normal to begin with obviously, but now she sounded far from human in any way also. His breathing escalated as he felt her kisses on his neck next, his eyes rolled briefly before he blinked to see the mirror. To see her reflection.

In that moment where lust and confusion were entwined together he saw her, she who looked human before him held a completely different representation. The mirror displayed something which he'd never seen before, a charred and wicked creature which existed in nightmares. An embodiment of malice which he never would've wanted to see, and yet here he was now with her in his arms! His heart nearly stopped as the pit of his stomach dropped in a sickly manner, the realization of who and what she was now finally sunk in just as she sank her teeth into his flesh. "Son- Grah!" He bellowed aloud as he felt the warmth of his blood seep into her mouth.

She held onto him deeply as he groaned and nearly gave in to the creature, until a final attempt to push her off came to release him. Patrick put in all the effort he could to send her back, and once he was no longer in her clutches he reeled back himself. There was a tumble onto the floor where the room spun, while released yet more groans and tried to push himself off the floor. He felt so drained. So... terrified. Syroa had intended to make him her's in a different way, one that went against everything he stood for in life. She intended to leash him like a new pet, and now Patrick could only look in horrid awe at the blood on his hand.

It was his blood! Wet and warm but not for very long, he had to keep pressure on the wound now. He had to get out of here, before she could do anything worse to him. "You... bitch!" He cried out as he stumbled to get onto his feet, he faced her with the intention to walk backwards. To reach the ladder and hopefully get the hell out of there, but for some reason he couldn't move away from her. All he could do was feel the whirlwind of emotions he felt within the moment, whilst in the reality his bite wound both burned and throbbed underneath the pressure of his hand.
word count: 581
"Freedom is everything."


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The woman was pushed from her suitor's lap. She rolled, cackling the entire time. She stopped rolling when she was at the base of the mirror they had been staring into her. She pulled one leg up to her chest, leaving the other extended behind her. Coyly, she propped herself up on one arm. Her hair was mussed, revealing two fiery eyes. The curls had been pulled away from her face in the roll. She drew a circle in the floor boards with one of her long fingers. As she lay there, laughing, a tail slide out from under her dress. It rose in front of the mirror, its reflection representing truth for the first time this evening.

"Oh, why yes. I am a bitch. One of the nicer things someone has called me honestly," Syroa hissed. She pushed herself to her knees. Her wings sprouted from her shoulder blades as she stood. The illusion she had worn this evening began to fade, presenting the true demon. Talons tore through the shoes she had been wearing, the heel giving out beneath her weight as she grew taller, heavier.

"I have given you a gift Patrick." Blessing or curse, she believed either worked to her benefit. The beast took a step back, moving behind one of the mirrors. She stalked, gently turning mirrors as she walked passed them. They had to be aligned just right so that he could see himself wherever he turned. "You can remove your hand. Your wound has healed. It is my mark on you. One that reveals your inner self to the world. Now, move that box in the center would you?"

It was a polite command. One he would have to obey. She continued to alter the mirrors in a way to create a circle around him. "You see, you have just become a Sessfiend. Or that is what you mortals call my demon beasts. Sit."

How did it feel to be commanded by an Immortal with the obligation to obey. Syroa cackled again, finding great enjoyment in the show of authority. She tilted another mirror, having made it three quarters around the circle now. "You will heal faster. You will be stronger. You will crave flesh and blood. You will be you in the most raw form. Roll over."

Her voice was hot and heavy as she moved the final mirror. "She was a good Sessfiend. She wrought havoc in Rynmere and Rharne alike. I have given you the power to deal rage and anger. Make them pay for your lot in life; your broken-ness. There is one stipulations. The beast died not two trials before today. You were just unlucky to have crossed by path. Now cursed to be my beast, you shall transform every once in a while at night. Tonight, this will be your prison. I can't have Ilaren knowing you are here now. Beg."

Syroa stood behind the circle of mirrors, giving him what last little bit of humanity before the change took hold of him to get his rage at her out. Tonight she would stay with him. She couldn't have him running through the streets so soon after the attack. Ilaren would certainly spoil her fun. She would protect this one for the time being.
word count: 551
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I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be then me.
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Patrick
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Her remark to his furious name calling made him spat in disgust, his gaze a sharp scowl that mentally tore at her. His pain didn't really seem to die down but somehow the bleeding had managed to stop, as though his body had rapidly healed in its own unnatural way. "A gift?! This ain't no damn gift-" When she gave him the subtle command to move the box, Patrick just stood there for a moment dumbfounded by it all.

Her? Command him? Yet even when he intended to deny her the satisfaction, his mental capacity wasn't capable enough to deter the physical responses that followed. Patrick actually did as he was told and moved the box for her, another scowl made as he cursed under his breath towards her. Someway somehow her 'gift' gave her the ability to control him, to have him do whatever it was she wanted out of him. Under different circumstances if this were a practice done for kinks, then he would've at least obliged a little just for the fun. Now however he felt entirely different of the situation, he despised his lack of self control and what he now became.

Syroa had cursed him. Taken away his freedom with but a single leash, that leash being this newly given power. A Sessfiend. His gut felt knotted and twisted inside as he started to have hot flashes, his body temperature quickly rose as he yet again mindlessly obeyed her next command. Like a properly trained mutt he did just as she told, and sat down on the floor with deep and heavy breaths. Something was wrong with him, not just because of what she did but... but because of what he felt deep inside of him. He felt as though his skin prickled while something pounded underneath, which caused the muscles of his arms and legs to twitch.

"Lady ya don't know the first thing about me- Gah!" He tried to insult her but the attempt fell through when bones snapped all along his spine, as the most unpleasant stretching sensation led him to believe that his entire back had broken. By itself. He fell forward onto his hands and with her next command to 'roll over,' he yet again did as he was told and did two rolls across the floor onto his belly. His back wasn't broken? Then what the hell just happened?! He reached forward to try and do a crawl, but his entire right hand snapped up as fingers broke themselves out of place. He screamed in agony as the digits replaced them selves and the hand returned back to its original position, as the rest of his body started to react with spasms and unstoppable contortions.

His entire shoulder system expanded painfully as ribs swelled with cracks, and his cries of agony were the only thing that could ensue. Each time he felt a part of his body move there was intense pain there, fiery hot pain that felt like daggers piercing every nerve in his flesh. He arched as the articulation of his spine briefly made an inverted "C," with another loud cry of anguish sent out to fill the dark room around him. Within the mirrors all around he could see himself, his pathetic figure which writhed on the floor with no self control. One of his arms snapped and bent completely backwards out of place, the muscles within that arm contracted as they began to expand.

Fire. He felt fire inside his body, as though all his insides were tearing each other apart. The hairs on his body started to grow in length, his skin finally cracked as all the parts of his body seemed to contort back into place. He laid there quietly save for the heavy pants he rasped, his entire figure fidgeted uncontrollably as he felt pressure within his head. What was happening to him? What was he becoming? "I'll- I'll kill you myself-" He weakly threatened just before the pain of his insides resumed once more, this time his flesh and bones contorted in places he didn't recognize. He felt even the ligaments tear and rapidly regenerate, all while his form finally began to transform before her.

First his body became covered in a rich coat of grey fur while his upper half molded into the form of a magnificent lion, with silvers eyes that menacingly stared from the mirrors onto the Immortal that created him. His lower half however felt like the mix of another creature, as the hind legs were more rigid and hideous with a ferocious stinger for a tail. Half lion, half scorpion. Patrick had transformed into exactly what Syroa had said, a much deeper and raw reflection of what he truly was. With the humanity left inside now suppressed by the beast, Patrick's last remnants of consciousness was that of a snarling roar.
word count: 825
"Freedom is everything."


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Nymph
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PATRICK

  • Knowledge:
    • Syroa: Immortal of Transformation, Lust, Acting, and Fury
    • Syroa: Hey, Sexy Lady
    • Syroa: Keeps Sessfiends as Pets
    • Sessfiend: Form of the Manticore
    • Sessfiend: Syroa's Curse
    • Sessfiend: Afraid of Mirrors
    • Location: Sessfiend's Grave
    • Location: Burned Building in Dust Quarter
    • Seduction: Charming an Immortal
    • Seduction: A Woman's Charm can be Deadly
    • Seduction: Forceful Kiss
    • Strength: Moving Debris
    Loot: None
    Injuries:
    • A silvery bite scar located at the juncture of the neck and shoulder on the right. This mark is permanent and will not fade as it is the symbol of Syroa's curse. The mark will be removed only if the curse is removed.
    Fame: Everything was in secret.
    Devotion: +20 Syroa [Cursed by Syroa]; You received positive devotion because Syroa likes you. Her curse and her blessing will bring about chaos. To her, they are both a means to an end. Your interaction with the Immortal has been good. Too bad she needed a new pet. She might have blessed you otherwise.

    Sessfiend
    Sessfiend
    Syroa's curse is especially unique among the Immortals as it focuses both on punishing a mortal and on punishing everyone around them. Syroa's mark manifests as a wound she has inflicted with claws, bite, or tail that scar especially vivid on the marked's body. Immediately, the marked will experience a minor and permanent change for as long as they are marked. Their body will thicken, grow stronger and faster. The marked will gain a faint taste for human flesh and blood, constantly tantalizing them. At the first mark, however, this taste can usually be resisted. In addition, the marked will find it harder to resist temptations of flesh and fury, finding themselves short tempered and drawn to the comforts of another. Most terrifying, however, is what only the marked can feel. Beneath their skin, a furious monster awakens and churns within their flesh and bones. The marked can feel it at all times, gnawing and scratching for release. Twice a Cycle (once a Season) the marked will transform at night into an immense, savage beast. Only those who truly know the marked would be able to spot anything of familiarity in the transformation. Claws, fangs, bulging muscles, sometimes wings. The shape taken is a reflection of the beast awakened within the cursed, a bestial inversion of their weaknesses and strengths. A cursed has no control over this transformation and immediately sets out for mortal flesh and blood. Its hunger is insatiable and fury only increases its power. The beast will ravage for the entirety of the evening, miraculously regenerating at astonishing speed and acting with both primal and sentient intelligence in how it hunts and kills. Just a break before dawn, amid maddening agony, the cursed will resume their true form, exhausted. Blessedly, the memories from this time are feverish and unclear. Some have taken their life before the curse takes hold of them, unwilling to turn on friend and family. The Beast seems to know who the cursed cares about and makes a habit of stalking, terrifying, and finally slaughtering them.

    Syroa does not seem to have a curse beyond the Sessfiend. Those who continue to displease her may find their transformations more frequent or, even crueller, a seeming cure to the transformations just long enough that the victim begins forming connections before the change forces them to destroy them one after another.

    Out of Character Note: Since the Sessfiend is an incredibly powerful curse, there are some rules to playing a cursed PC. If there are any questions, please contact Nymph, Plague, or a Narrator.

    • No one will play the Sessfiend other than the player unless the player gives permission to the moderator to do so. The player is obligated to work directly with the moderator during events that involve the Sessfiend for plot purposes.
    • The Sessfiend player cannot bring the Sessfiend out during times that could potentially involve personal gain - ending a fight with another PC/NPC, etc. The Prophet of the city the player is currently in will determine the day the Sessfiend transformation occurs. The Sessfiend player will not be awarded Knowledges as their PC is not aware of what is going on when the Sessfiend is in control; however, since they are taking the time to write, they will still be allowed skill points to use towards basic skills (non-magic skills).
    • An OOC note needs to be added to state that there is a possibility for personal PC harm. Personal PC damage is not required, but a high risk has to be placed when threading with the Sessfiend. Those that wish to significantly alter and/or kill their PC/NPC off have the option with the Sessfiend. PC death requires prior consent from the player of that specific PC.
    • Mirrored weapons cease the Sessfiend's healing and burns it. Also, a Sessfiend cannot stand to see its own reflection.


    Quest: Being a Sessfiend will take its toll on you. You will crave flesh and blood in a way you never thought possible. The transformations will be painful and the out-of-body experience you may have will leave you scarred. Thankfully, these memories will be gone in the morning when you awake, naked and vulnerable from your previous escapades in the night. Syroa keeps an eye on all her marked, and you will be no different. As you cause chaos, she will be watching in the distance. Pleased with your progress, she may bestow upon you further attention. If you do not want the attentions of a demon with a voluptuous form, seek out Ymiden. As the Immortal of Forgiveness, he must know of some way to seek redemption.

    Story: 5/5
    Collaboration: 5/5
    Structure: 5/5
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Comments: This was a great thread to write. It has been an absolute pleasure bringing Patrick into Syroa's fold. I am very curious to see how he handles the Sessfiend curse. I am also very interested to see what path he chooses moving forward. Good luck. Let me know how I can further enhance your story.

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM. Thank you!
word count: 1040
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I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be then me.
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