This is @rufkasoda's character lore blog.
(under a slight reconstruction at the time being)
DIRECTORY:
SUMMARY:
Lament is an anthological story about a dying, cursed world, and those who live within it. It's separated by three major sections:
I: A malefactor and a freelancer find themselves stuck on the line of a contract that they made without thinking too much. Unfortunately, this puts them at jeopardy for misfortune.
II: The descendant of a knight who made a deal long ago has to face the consequences of her primogenitor. It's up to her to end the cycle.
III: The mythos and inspiration behind the tales of legend make themselves known and what they did to let the world fall into such disarray.
General World Help:
Brief history
Diseases and Races
Beasitary:
Randomly assorted lineup
Randomly assorted sub-species of Ancient/Great Ones
How do you kill someone that won't stay dead?
LAMENT: SOMATIC MELANCHOLIA's first chapter is out to read!
I can't fit all of the pages on here, so I just put the first 18. You can read all 32 pages on the website...
I don't think this can be fit in the 1000 word limit on marshmallow, so I'll send it here: How would the main 5 describe their relationships with each other to themselves/what do they usually tell other people?
Something like this? It was easier to answer in an image instead of on text, I hope it is ok.
To the second one, it would be more like:
Mar (about Akani): She's my best friend and my work partner.
Mar (about Nero): She's my best friend and helped raise me.
Akani (about Mar): She's my roommate and work partner.
Akani (about Nero): She's Mar's friend and is nice.
Nero (about Mar): She's my best friend and I helped her out as a kid.
Nero (about Akani): Mar's friend and mine too, I guess.
Nero (about Baiza): A scary woman with a bad feeling in my stomach when I'm near her.
Nero (about Cirian): The devil...?
Mar's finger grazes the trigger of her mother's shotgun, hands shaking from her heavy breathing. She butts it against Akani's chest, pressing the weight of her body into the shotgun in order for Akani to truly feel the pressure. Her thumb clicks the rusted release achingly slow, unblinking as she hears the pop of the gears from within the rickety old thing. Akani blinks down at her from beneath her bangs, taking a manual breath in at her confusion. She opens her mouth to say something, but Mar only presses the gun back against her the moment she parts her lips to speak. She dares not to move, more bewildered than afraid of what was about to happen to her body. Mar gulped with her entire body, blinking hard as she swallowed.
“I'll—I'll pull the trigger. If you do anything else.”Â
The girl normally had a meek voice, but it sounded as if someone were strangling her. Her heels dug into the ground, holding her quivering body firm against the gun. Akani did not even breathe in response, looking around her face for any sort of explanation. Mar's breath stuttered, choking momentarily. The motion made the gun shift slightly, pressing to the gap between Akani's ribcage. It was only then that she realized her body was soaked, not just in the black water, but the remnants of something that was once there. Her fingers twitch subconsciously, causing Mar to sink into her shoulders and aim the gun a bit higher. The liquid drips onto the mix of stones and grass beneath them, a fine, black smoke sizzling up from the grass where the blood falls. Akani does not feel any wounds on her body, despite the blood acting the same as hers. Mar's eyebrow twitches as she attempts to put on a brave face, showing her true nature.
“Why,” Akani mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. After the word leaves her mouth, her throat feels as if it's just about closed, like she has not spoken in months. Mar's uncharacteristically small pupils dart across Akani's face, seeming to search for something that she does not understand. There's a strange feeling that looms behind Akani, the cold, moist breeze of the coastline brushing against her body. Mar's short and thin hair blows in the mistral, slowly dampening the longer the two stand there with all of the sea water particles that pick up in the gale. Her clothes are a bit too dirty for how often Mar washes that white gown, fussing about it being a hand-me-down far too often. Akani's wear is nothing but cheap rags, the ends fraying as if they were a grain sack. Brown pants are splattered with the black remains of what was once an umbrage, Akani realizes. She feels far too full for once in her life, the subconscious ache that normally permeates her body is void, filled by the absorption of the creature. The thing that strikes her as odd is how afraid Mar seems to be—the same Mar who watches intently as Akani rips the things from head to tail with a curved blade? The same Mar who grew up watching nothing but slaughter? It does not ring right in her mind.
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