ROLEPLAY HQ - the-price

TW: Gore, sex, violence, blackmail, abuse, manipulation, enslavement and generally NSFW

There are some people who have forgotten the Old Gods, many who praise the Scion who were heralded as saviors. The Scion are sons and daughters of the now deceased Old Gods. These beings rose to glory when demons struck the land, invading with a hellish fury. Suppressing and destroying the demons gained them the power to ascend into godhood. While the new masters of the world are gaining a following, one sits alone. Called a disaster and even chaos incarnate, there are many who fear his might. A shadowless being and one who’s very existence is to bend reality. The Beast. He’s been at war for a long time, his power one of the main factors in their victory. But… he was betrayed. Turned on by the others and battled for the title of strongest. It was sad, but the reality was that these beings were imperfect creations that became more. Inherently, he was different. Being neither New or Old, but something that had leaked from beyond those beings. Their fight lasted 7 days and 7 nights, the world shaking from their wrath. But in the end, he lost. Now, however, the New Gods were weak. They had all received wounds that couldn’t be healed, scarred by his black magik. So bitterly, they made a pact. He would remain in a corner of the world, without seeking glory and they wouldn’t bother him. To this day, his name made them tremble and that… that was enough. He knew, as all other beings did, that he was the only one strong enough to vanquish Aberoth. Forever. He had devoured the creatures soul and to this day, he was still digesting it. But on the day he finally consumed the essence, he would slaughter them. They had not only piggybacked off his accomplishments and took them as their own, but barley managed to incapacitate him while outnumbering him 7:1. Pathetic. Unlike the other Gods, his appearance was quite human like, regal even. Though he was perfectly proportioned, and quite frankly impeccable, he didn’t find value in it. At a certain point, when you became powerful

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enough, nothing matters anymore. Not women, not children, not a family, not even living. There was only his burning for revenge, or at least there had been. Some humans still left him offerings, and to those, he often granted a wish. They usually didn’t come back afterwards, caught up in their prizes. He liked it like that. Though he was happy they worshipped him, it wasn’t something he desired. The validation of lesser beings wasn’t a drug he enjoyed taking. He had seen what happened to the people he once called friends. So when he heard a harsh banging against his castle doors, he nearly snapped and crushed them. But he stilled his rage at the sound of begging “Lord Mordred! Lord Mordred have mercy! M-My daughter!” Sighing, he threw open the doors and floated down from the steps. She seemed to be breathing hard, whimpering and shivering in pain. Looking up, he turned his head away “I… can save her.” The man seemed to get excited and was clearly about to start showering praises, but he was stopped by a raised palm. “Let me finish. I can save her but she won’t be able to leave. There’s nothing that will be able to sustain her except my powers.” The man looked shocked and then tears started to flood his eyes. Her father looked up at him and an uncomfortable feeling passed over him. Was this… the responsibility of a God? To see the pain and suffering of a human… to want to help? He hoped so, he really did. Laying the girl on the ground, he pressed his hand to her lower stomach. It was the largest and most stable energy point in the body. He would fill her with his essence and then reshape her identity. It would be akin to becoming a dog but he wouldn’t tell the man that. She wouldn’t be able to disobey him but he had no intentions of abusing her. He didn’t chase anything. They came to him. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to predict that her new form would be so alluring. Swallowing, he let her rest and turned to her father

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“Do… do you have anything you want to tell her?” The man looked heart broken but he had family to go back to. Three sons and two daughters. They came to offer him things often. Sighing, he snapped his fingers and a pocket of darkness opened in the air. Reaching inside, he pulled out 7 gold bars. Handing them to the man, he put a hand on his shoulder and exhaled slowly. They were out of time. This place was not only a castle but also his prison. If this man didn’t leave soon, he would be descended upon by every ounce of godly force in the world. Not yet. Not yet. “One day, I’ll be able to give her back to you.” But this man may not live long enough to see that day. Still, her father gave her a kiss on the head and was promptly teleported home. Now, he had to endure the awkward silence of this girl. Wonderful. @ShadowCat

Eirwen dreamt, her mind working through a cloudy haze of images and sensations strange and unreal. She dreamt of pain, her guts churning with poisonous, twisting intensity. She may have whimpered at it, curled to protect the afflicted area and not sure if it was a need to vomit or cough that thickened the back of her throat. But it subsided, replaced by warmth instead as if the pain was lifted from her veins and drawn out by magic. Relaxing, her head lolled to the side a little, her mind slowly freeing itself from the thick fog keeping her prisoner within itself. Her blue eyes fluttered as they opened, at first unable to focus on anything in particular and everything was a blur of shadows and colors. “Where…” she muttered, but her tongue was uncooperative, and the words failed her. Who was she even speaking to? Her ears detected no sounds, the silence around her so dense and heavy she might as well have been entombed. That thought had her open her eyes again, raising a hand to try and rub the daze out of her mind and clear her view. She was lying on the bottom of white, marbled steps that wound up to a massive and intricately built house. A castle? Eirwen scrambled for a moment to get to her feet, trying to find her balance enough to stand.

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It was only then she grew aware of herself; the clean but worn and simple green dress she was wearing, her white hair cascading down around her head. She stopped mid-motion and stared at her own, small, and delicate hand for many seconds, blue eyes large in confusion while her mind struggled to comprehend it all. Then gradually she became aware of the prickling sensation at the back of her head, something that sent a chill down her spine with the knowledge that someone was watching her. Turning her head, she saw him. A man, tall and muscular standing eerily still behind her. Long and dark hair furled gently down his shoulders, eyes intense but calmly observing her, eyebrows drawn in a strict and harsh line across his forehead. Eirwen stilled and sat there for many seconds, staring back at him in stunned and confused silence while she tried to place him in her memories. But he wouldn’t be placed, and with a jolt of renewed shock she realized nothing came back to her. How she’d gotten there, who he was, where she was, or even… her own name. The fright and disorientation drilled into instinctive reflexes instead and she scrambled backwards and away, searching with both her eyes and her mind to find anchors for something she could recognize and remember. “Who are you?” @Deleted User

He answered honestly “My home.” Her scrambling had not taken him by surprise, rather that she was to move as she did. It was clumsy, clearly unbalanced and altogether sad. She had been wiped. While he had hopes his endeavors to save her wouldn’t end up this way, in the end, it had. Sighing, the man waved his hand and lifted her into the air. As much as he would like to let her struggle, and fuss about in his clean and orderly home, he was busy. And her job was to make that busyness pleasurable or at least not unpleasant. She was floating behind him, trailing along above the ground and clearly not happy. But she had no right to request his patience as well. That’s what he wanted to do. He wanted to simply act like a fool and make her do what he wanted. Instead, as she asked who he was, he replied “A friend.” What made him say that wasn’t something he understood. But after being alone for so long, he didn’t think it was bad. She could speak, she clearly wasn’t mentally immature, but an amnesiac. So it was still an adult female woman, he wasn’t dealing with a child. Small mercies. @ShadowCat

“Your home? Where? I don’t know where I..-whoa-aaah!” Eirwen yelped and squirmed in fright as the ground suddenly disappeared beneath her, weightless and not the slightest gracefully floating in the air behind the man while he moved to accent the marbled staircase. Flailing her arms while trying to steer herself in a less upside-down manner, fighting to maintain a resemblance of gravity both in her clothes and hair, she muttered many colorful curses under her breath. Upon his remark, her eyes narrowed slightly on his tall shape gliding up the stairs in front of her, trying to understand and make sense of the situation. “A friend? Who’s friend? Mine? I don’t know you…” her voice trailed off while a set of large, double doors opened upon his approach, leading them both into a luxuriously furnished great hall that seemed like it was more suitable to entertain royalty and noble parties rather than… her. Her blue eyes took in all the details as they passed them, rich furniture clean and orderly and not even a spec of dust anywhere in sight. How did she even notice these things? Why was she so taken back by the sight, as if it was unlike anything she had ever seen before? “Put me down!” she eventually shrieked, angered and tired of floating there like some puppet. “I can walk!” She huffed in annoyance while yet again trying to correct herself into a position resembling normalcy, looking at the man from a slightly skewed angle but looking at him all the same. Her blue eyes shone with irritation. “What is your name? And do you know mine?” Had she been standing she might have crossed her arms and stomped her foot in impatience, but attempting to do so seemed foolish in her current predicament. Instead, she watched the man as he stopped walking and turned slowly to face her, waiting for a comprehensive answer that might clear some of the confusion of the situation. @Deleted User

How did he make it shut up? His face flashed with annoyance, he wasn’t used to social interaction in any manner. What she sought from him, she could not give. Still, he looked down at her and snapped his fingers, letting her drop in a heap head first. Stepping closer, he now loomed above her. For a moment, he seemed dangerous. His eyes flashed with something impetuous, a boiling rage at this ungrateful mortal. Still… she was right, better to explain now than be bothered later “You were brought here by your father, dying. I, your friend, was able to save your life.” The god leered down further, not speaking as his pale grey skin glimmered. Pointlessly, he leaned down to finally peer upon her and look into her eyes properly. Shadows raced forth, roaring from the depths and blasting the white castle into pitch black darkness. The mere act of leaning over called the shadows to their master greedily. They licked at the air before settling, making his eyes the only discernible feature in all the nothingness. For a time he stared, empty eyes staring down into hers. He could see her in the dark, the way his eyes narrowed into slits was telling. A deeper tone echoed from him, the voice he usually kept peaceful and calm. It was gutturally furious, every syllable carrying the weight of an intense rage “Your life is in my hands. Respect. Is simple. Now be silent, and get up.” When she stood up, the shadows began to leave his face first, light illuminating his skin as of he was a lantern. Soon, the darkness bled and he shined like a star in a lonely sky. When it all faded he looked tired, weary “You can’t leave me because once you do, the magic keeping your body alive will leave and return to me.” It isn’t had to materialize and maintain magical spells, the problem was he wasn’t omnipresent, omnipresent. There was still a range to his powers, to his vision. Not to mention… he was… lonely. Not that she would know, nor would he let her know. @ShadowCat

Eirwen scampered backwards on the floor at the darkness and looming presence of the man, shielding her head a little from his piercing and rageful gaze, covering her ears from the booming voice he spoke with. Only when he silenced and straightened, releasing her from his terrifying presence, did she uncurl from the ball she’d made herself into, daring to look back up at the man with her blue eyes full of wonder and a newfound fright. Her father had brough her there? But why could she not remember…? Looking down on herself and seeing the green and modest dress she was wearing, Eirwen could only assume that her own heritage was not that of a wealthy family. But that was as far as she could deduce about herself. Collecting herself from the floor enough to stand, she straightened her curled up dress and trailed behind him when he continued walking, hurrying to catch up with the larger man’s floating strides. The changes to his demeanor were so swift and frightening she kept to a few paces behind him, but still close enough to talk. “Where is this place? Who is my father? Did he give you my name? What is your name? How far can I go? What am I supposed to do here? Where am I supposed to sleep? Do you have others living here with you? Can I meet them? Are you a wizard?” The questions came tumbling out of her, speaking both on inhales and exhales while she eyed everything they passed, blue eyes admiring the decorative and luxurious furniture. “You must be very rich,” she muttered at the sight of it all. @Deleted User

Her questions made Mordred’s head tilt, his shoulders straining in stress. The god didn’t want to talk about these things, generally speaking only made him more agitated. Finding himself unable to shut her up, he finally stopped “Your room.” Turning away, he sighed and opened the doors for her. His hand fell on the small of her back and pushed her into the room. As the door clicked shut he lunged forward. Snarling, he grabbed her throat from behind, his large hand swallowing her neck “Silence.” The animosity was clear, his words hostile and hateful “Today is a day of mourning. Respect my home and shut your mouth.” Huffing, he stopped choking her and kneeled down as he snapped in her face “Look at me.” Grabbing under her jaw, he turned her head side to side and nodded to himself. In a short moment, his hand waved over her neck and a black band wrapped about her throat. Snapping his fingers again, the black band appeared in his hand and off her neck. Now he willed the band to form into a leather collar, stars dancing across the plush velvet that sat on the outside of her collar. A star was over the center and above the buckle of the collar. Clapping his hands together, he touched his palms and elbows together. In another moment, a flowing black dress had been procured from thin air. In truth, he was merely bending ether into constructs and breathing life into them. Still, it was an earnest gift and an apology for his momentary loss of control. Quietly, he addressed her and frowned “Wear these clothes. This is your home from now on… and I… am the Master of this Manor.” Standing up, he walked back to the door and paused “Obey me or die...you… would do me well.” Smiling, though whether it was a comforting notion or one of the many nightmarishly violent expressions he made, was to be seen. The God left her room without a proper establishment of his role or what she was to do in order for her to earn her stay. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he’d enjoy watching her do.

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@ShadowCat

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💙ShayBae💙

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