We Are The Forgotten | CLOSED FOR JOINING |

Name: Al Daystar
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Straight
Age: 18
Type: Nosferatu

Part of being an Earth Witch, and the part that I found to be my favorite, was The Hum. The Hum was the sound and the vibrations the Earth made if you listened close enough. Every chance I got, I would lie down in the grass that made up my home and dig my fingers into the rich soil that made me, and I would just listen. To me, it was the most beautiful music. There was nothing better than the feeling of the sun on your face, the Earth beneath you, and all of its wonderful beauty around you.

At this point, I was just procrastinating going home. This pond was my favorite place, between two worlds- and somehow, more peaceful than both of them. My black motorcycle was parked about a two-minute walk across the far hill on my left, and it was going to be a ten minute drive through the Orchard to get to my cabin in the forest. If I timed it right, I could drive right when the actual bright sun was out of my sight, but the watercolor sunset it left behind still played on the sky.

(I don't know if that's impressive or terrifying)

(I think the answer is yes, and that was the minimum, we make new characters and storylines weekly, and plot holes run abundant, but that's okay! Our first was Tari, and our second was Amber/Ember(multi-personalities). Tari is a tortured soul in more ways than one, and Amber and Ember are in the same body, but have different minds and appearances.)

Name: Sebastien (Bash) Valor
Complexion: Jet black hair, messy, falling somewhat into his light grey eyes. He has fair skin and a splash of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He's tall, but not so much broad and built as lean and agile. He drives a motorcycle around that he salvaged and fixed up from the Outside World, and spends a lot of time alone.
Sexuality: Straight
Age: 17
Magic: Earth Magic, and a little bit of healer
Personality: Loner, sarcastic, but kind to people he doesn't know. It'll take an army to make him hate you, but he has a great eye for fake people and liars and will be fully prepared to stay away from them in the first place. Grew up to be a fighter for the resistance in the human world, is a war veteran, and brought to Salem after winning six medals of valor and honor and bravery in his deployment. Has tendencies toward silence, and only really smiles when he means it.
Bio: Works as a hunter with his falcon in the woods. Meat is a rare resource, so you have to have a special license. It's a great excuse to get away.

FLASHBACK
"Bash! Get the hell out of here!"

Vines sprout out of the red cracked dirt and bullets surge like waves around us. We were immortal, we didn't age, but that didn't mean we couldn't die. My comrades fell around me like angels from heaven, and I already felt the waves of hot rage and burning grief pitting a hole in my stomach. It was enough. It was enough to elevate my powers to a point where I could take out militias with the flick of my fingers. I felt my lifeless grey eyes start to burn their stark white, and I felt my hands start to shake. It was enough. It was enough.

"Bash! You're going to kill them!"

It was enough. They'd wiped out almost a third of our population in the first year of the endless war alone, and we'd been dwindling ever since. But our kind was peaceful. Or at least we used to be.

It was enough.

END

"Hey, Valor! Get your sorry ass up, we have things to do."

(MY HEART)

(This is really cool! I love your style, I don't normally let myself do that sort of thing, because I always feel like people lose interest, even if my partner says she likes when I do it and when I semi-monologue)

(This is really cool! I love your style, I don't normally let myself do that sort of thing, because I always feel like people lose interest, even if my partner says she likes when I do it and when I semi-monologue)

(HAhahaha I do love my monologing lol. I just love writing. Letting it all go. I guess it's just like 3 more people get to see it and share it and imprve it this way lol)

(You can join if you want, go right ahead)

(Thanks!! How do you bold??)

Name: Orion "Ori" Parran
Complexion: Russet hair, blue eyes that change with his mood, light for fear and happiness, dark for anger and hatred, and burn red in a rage, black means run
Sexuality: Pansexual
Age: 19
Magic: Dark and Blood magics, music
Personality: Sweet, even with the stereotype of his magic. Unlike many, he does not fear his powers, knowing that they are him as much as he is them. Caring for those around him, and will always do his best to help those weaker than him. Carries a soft spot for children.
Bio: Works in the gardens, and sometimes as a hunter if a tracker is needed. Is sometimes a scout for missions into the rest of the world for supplies.

I jump at the sudden noise and my grey eyes snap open, catching the light in pale sparks.
"Jesus Christ andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer), don't sneak up on a lady like that." I breathe, pulling myself out of the grass with a slightly damp shirt thanks to the lush grass.
He chuckles, helping me to my feet. "Noted. Come on, go get your badassmobile. We have things to do." He ushers me forward, and I toddle after him on tired legs. andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer) was a 21-year-old Water Witch, with an excitable personality and a tendency to drag me on adventures. As far as he was concerned, there was never a dull moment.

We walk together down the far hill, where I find his yellow jeep parked next to my bike. On the back windshield of his car, I'd left my mark in the form of makeshift stickers made from carpenter's tape and sharpie marker. My personal favorite announced to all of Salem that aliens did, in fact, exist. I even drew a little cartoon alien head and a flying saucer that looked more like a turtle.

I rev the engine on the bike, and I tail him on his jeep into the Dusties. Where he was dragging me, I had no idea. But the promise of running into strangers and finding trouble was almost definite.

(You do bold with two ** marks in front of the word you want to bold.)

Yeah?

Yeah

Ori was walking along the familiar garden paths, familiar to him anyway. Smiling to himself, as even a hedge witch could get lost in a hedge maze like this. Almost as if you could wander the planted paths forever. A headache came on, suddenly, like lightning, and he tried to make it under a tree, somewhere he wouldn't be as vulnerable.

FLASHBACK
"ORI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Eyes blue walking into the madness of war, he barely heard Cor behind him. He can't stop. Falling. Falling. Falling away from him. Has to keep moving. A bullet tearing through his shoulder. Beautiful arc of blood behind him. Time slowing as the taste of it hits his tongue. As he hears the soft patter of it fall behind him.

Another shout behind him. Turning to look. Eyes red. "ORI! STOP!! ORI? WHY ARE YOUR EYES RED? WHY ARE YOU SMILING?" Keep walking. Keep moving. Reaching the first, the red stains his blades. Only adds to his bloodlust. Moving. Killing. A bullet. Point blank. A single thought surfaces in his mind. Huh. That Hurt. Killing. Bloodlust. When had he summoned claws? When had his hands stained red? When had his clothes? When had his mouth? Has to keep killing. Has to keep moving. Comrades falling like card houses. Rage. Rage. Rage.

Someone shaking his shoulders. Reacting. Turning. Killing. Watches the body fall like a bag of sand. Emblem doesn't register. Symbol doesn't register. Sigil registers. Cor. Cor bleeding. Cor torn open. Hands stained with blue blood, and red. Staring. Half his face torn away by a bullet. Eyes BLACK. Laughter. Healing. Blood. Rage. Only Rage. Only Hatred. Only Fear.
END FLASHBACK

Shivering, he stood, walking ever deeper into the garden paths. Trying to escape his own memories, his own mind.

The humans called it PTSD, but around here we called our veterans Ghosts. They'd seen death, brought it on, gotten close enough to it to see the empty chaos of it. When I got here, I was a Ghost. I still am. Blank-faced, blank minded, and pale like death on the brightest days. I'd won six medals of honor in the Witch's army, and I'd killed about twenty people on separate missions for each of them. That was over one hundred people in graves for nothing but hatred, nothing but fear. That was over one hundred human beings in graves at my hands. I don't know about the humans, but here, we call that murder. We call that sin. We call that punishable by death. And around here, when you're a Ghost like me, we call that Casualties.

Ghosts here were silent, were terrifying. Could give a smile as they slit your throat. Ghosts walked without noise, could leave destruction in their wake. Some said that the Ghosts hated killing as much as they hated themselves for living. Some said there were Ghosts that enjoyed it, that lived to kill. To destroy. To wreak havoc before them. Ghosts were said to carry the weight of the world of their shoulders. The weight of the souls they had sent on. There was a different type of Ghost though, and those were feared. It was said that some Ghosts could talk with the souls they killed, that some were driven mad by the knowledge. Knowledge of the lives they had taken. Knowledge of the life they had torn away. Children were the worst. Children were always the worst. Ghosts and killers were one being with different names. A blade by any other name is still just as blood stained.

(Did I do okay? I don't normally let myself do things like this. Is it alright?)

(I gtg, night)

Al sat on the roof of some ramshackle inn. He looked up at the sun. Back down to the streets. A yellow jeep tailed by a bike zipped past, floating down the street like two fallen leaves in a river, probably headed to the Industrials if he had to guess. He sighed, coming upright, and strode to the edge of the roof. Some old bastard started yelling at him, hollering for him to come down off the roof.
He sighed once more.
"Oh well, I been meanin' to catch a walk anyways." He said, to nobody in particular, before descending down the side of the building, into the ground. Our hero sauntered down the dreary streets of Salem.

Afternoon, everyone

(Afternoon!)

andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer)'s yellow jeep comes to a stuttering halt on the corner of a restaurant and a general store. I only had twenty Pieces, the currency here, and that sure as hell wasn't enough to buy either dinner or any of supplies I might need from the shop. andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer)'s car door slams and I take my helmet off, shaking out my messy black hair. There was only one other reason we'd be here.
Underneath the general store was an underground lot that held Salem's "Black Market", which was really just where Outside World objects were bought and sold. andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer) was a scavenger, so he was on constant trips in and out of the Orchard Walls. We were here on business for him.
"What are we doing here?" I ask, crossing my arms, still sitting on my parked bike with my feet on the pavement.
andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer) smiles lazily, with the look of someone who's trying to hide their excitement. "I've been looking for one of these for months, and I finally found one."
"Found what?" I'm interrupted by andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer) opening the passenger side of his jeep. A little rrrrufff sounds out into the air, and then a little ball of grey fluff jumps out.

Ori eventually found his way out of the winding paths, breaths coming easy. Eyes blue he headed to Salem's "Black Market." Sad that it was more acceptable to earn a living there than it was to use blood magic. Seeing a yellow jeep, he slowed. Seeing a fellow Ghost, he went over. As a Ghost, Orion has a symbol of his choosing, a small selection of stars, tattooed on his ankle, what the humans would have called an achilles heel. Making his footsteps louder for a moment so the other would not startle, he greeted him. "Hello. Is that a," pausing for a moment, as if looking for the right word, "dog?" Orion carries himself like Ghosts tend to, coiled like a spring.