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[WANTED: SAM REID AS A VAMPIRE COUNCIL SPY]

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Paris, 1790 You are a renowned opera singer, touring France during the cusp of the event that will later go on to define the French Revolution. But for now, everything is as calm as if before a storm, and Paris is a tinderbox waiting for the spark. You do not know this yet, just as you do not know that the entire trajectory of your life is about to change. You are in love, or you think you are, with a mysterious Parisian gentleman who attends each of your shows. You do not yet know that he is a vampire, and what feels like love to you is just an eternal hunt for obsession and death for him. And then, life as you know it changes completely. You are abducted and introduced to the shadowy secretive underworld of vampires and supernatural creatures, and you come to know the true identity of the man you were desperately in love with. Caspian Delaroux. A vampire who toys and manipulates and coaxes out feelings of love out of his chosen humans before giving them the gift of death. Your sire is his grandfather, one of the ancient progenitors of a vampiric bloodline, and he reveals to you Caspian's true nature, his instability, and how he spells ruin for vampires and humans alike. Your abduction was in truth a rescue from a doomed fate. It's 2025 now, centuries have passed, the supernatural have stepped out of the shadows, and you are finally being sent to London to spy on the vampire who had changed everything.

This will be a narrative with dark, dramatic themes of contending with the past, unlearning abuse, and coming to terms with the meaning of true love. There will also be an in-built romantic ship connected to this character, with a cursed rat shifter who cannot lie, and agrees to be a pawn in the espionage.

Interested? APPLY HERE.

[WANTED: TOM HARDY AS A KINKSTER]

FORUM • GUIDEBOOK • FACES • WANT ADS • SUBPLOTS This will be an incredibly slow burn.

Gabriel is an extremely successful man. Whether this be generational, entrepreneur, or built from the ground up. He is wealthy, potentially a known name in the greater London area. Romantic relationships have never been kept private for long due to paparazzi, and they've never lasted long. He is in the kink scene, which is one fact about him that is not known by most anyone unless they've encountered him at munches or Church on the rare occasion he attends. This will likely be how he and Saylor meet. Interested? APPLY HERE

[WANTED: ASTA, THE BOUND ARTEMIS]

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Before she was sired as a vampire, Asta was the mortal vessel of Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt and moon. Asta’s vampiric nature has suppressed much of her divine essence, but echoes of Artemis remain. Her affinity for the hunt, sharp intelligence, and connection to the moon are remnants of the goddess she once was.

Asta is the first and eldest child of Skarde, the vampire duke of London. Her history is open for character creation, but do take into consideration that Skarde would not sire someone who he did not see sharing his same appetites. They are loyal to one another, and she is truly his daughter in all but blood. In her mortal life, Asta was a content and happy murderer, killing for herself and the artistry of it. This dark skill and comfort in the act are what drew Skarde to her.

She is his right-hand woman and the clutch’s Marchioness—its second-in-command. Asta is as bloodthirsty as her family and likely reaching or has already reached master status, with the ability to create a human or animal servant.

Interested? APPLY HERE

[WANTED: MACARIA AS DAUGHTER OF HADES/PERSEPHONE]

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When Persephone fell into her deep sleep, Macaria ruled the underworld alongside her father. Macaria will have likely had to mature very quickly after what happened with her mother and worn a heavy weight on her shoulder. very close to her father. Misses her mother deeply. There is potential for romance with Thanatos, with whom Macaria works. Interested? APPLY HERE.

[WANTED: MELINOE AS DAUGHTER OF ZEUS AND PERSEPHONE]

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Melinoe has never known her mother. Born from the rape of Persephone at the hands of Zeus, she had barely taken her first breath when Zeus wished her dead. Hades, turned to his loyal friend Hekate and Melinoe was taken under protection by the Titaness.

Interested? APPLY HERE

[WANTED: A SAPPHIC LOVER FOR SEPH] FORUM • GUIDEBOOK • FACES • WANT ADS • SUBPLOTS

Looking for a sapphic lover for Seph, rough idea is to have somewhat of a Dracula arc to the love story, so finding someone who reminds her of someone from the past (skipping the reincarnated lover part though)

She's an artist of sorts, or similar creative fields that Seph would overlap with (Art, Music, Fashion) somewhere in her mid to late 20's, maybe early 30's. Themes are her being driven but a hint of needing to be rescued which draws Seph in

She will start as a human but will ultimately be turned after she is fatally wounded by Seph sire as an act of revenge, forcing Seph to turn her

I'm openish on the face, I have some in mind but I am open to potential others that have a similar vibe

Faces in mind are: Claire Laffat, Iiris Vesik, Rosie Carney

Interested? APPLY HERE.

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request title goes here

Centuries ago, a kelpie enslaved by a Highland laird issued a final curse at his unfortunate captors:

[b]“The Laird will never thrive, as long as the kelpie is alive.”[/b]

The Laird's castle crumbled along with its Church spires, leaving behind nothing but a great lake. The kelpie receded behind the veil, seeking shelter at the Seelie court, eventually becoming the bodyguard of the Seelie Princess.

The Laird left behind a child, a changeling child, born from a wish and contract. Ever since then, every generation loses the oldest heir to drowning—lakes, rivers, baths, rain-swollen streets. The family whispers the tales of the curse, like ancient history, a morbid folklore.

The current descendant believes they are next. They’re a fugitive of his own ancestry. They avoid water obsessively, look behind their back at shadows, and pore over scrolls of curses, of magic, the occult, and the perilous legends of Fae contract. They know inevitability does not care about innocence, and the waters whisper whenever they are near.

After two long millennia, the kelpie has returned. And he demands his final tithe.

This is an [b]Open Gender/ Open Face / Open Species[/b] want ad for Aonghus. A dark cat-and-mouse game between the Descendant and the Kelpie, who has still not forgotten his period of humiliation and enslavement, and would go above and beyond to acquire the final piece of his revenge. The tithe he was denied.

There are several options this could go –

- The Descendant, perhaps a historian or an occultist or a witch, has been preparing for this moment all along. They match Aonghus’ attempts, try to capture him again, or try to outwit him. Or perhaps they use their witchcraft to fight back or protect themselves. In time, the two form a rhythm that eventually deepens into a sort of grudging mutual respect, leading to more.

- The Descendant, hoping they could escape their watery grave, has chosen to be turned into a vampire. Aonghus shadows them, menaces them, tricks them into sparring with him. Or, Aonghus uses his glamour to draw them into a false sense of security, getting them addicted to fae blood.

- The Descendant has sought shelter from another Fae, perhaps an Unseelie. And now it becomes a matter of inter-court politics, that could endanger not only Aonghus, but also the Princess he is devoted to.

short detail

London never sleeps. The central hub in the UK for all things supernatural, London is home to one of the largest Vampire Clutches in the world. 25 years since the supernatural world stepped out of the proverbial closet, vampires rule in Clutches, hold station, rank and celebrity. Meanwhile, werewolves and shifters lead scattered lives, trying to survive under the iron fist of the Disease Prevention Bill, all while anti-supernatural groups lurk in the margins, sowing discord and using hatred as an opportunity. Welcome to London. You might get eaten... or vanish. Send your loved ones a post card.

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Celebrating its 2nd anniversary, Bloody Echoes is a mature plot-driven 3/3/3 Jcink Premium supernatural horror role-play set in an alternate-universe London. With a strong emphasis on collaborative plotting, our storylines range from complex political intrigue to dark themes to comedic chaos-shenanigans.

• Dark Urban Fantasy RP • Advanced Lore-intensive • Trans-affirming LGBTQIA+ • Semi-private. No Word Count. • Relaxed activity rules set by members • Vampires, Werewolves, Shifters, Witches, Selkies, Fae, Ghosts and Mythological beings with their own detailed subplots • Newly added species – Draugr • The Vanishing Point: our no app/short app special 2026 site-wide event where you can choose to be kidnapped, or be the kidnapper. Join us as we launch 2026 by heading into the our current on-going subplot: an all-out war between vampires and necromancers.

[APPLY TO OUR MEMBER INTEREST FORM HERE]

She believes life is lived with pain pinned to the muscle, slacks grazed with thorns, boots wet with the mud clinging to moss and undergrowth, chin painted red with the juices of wild berries that only grows in the certain shade of a certain kind of woods.

And when the moon climbs atop of fern trees, the path ahead gleams silver and shadow, its light telling the primal story of nature in language that only hunters can read. The gurgle sounds from rain-fed springs, tracks left in soaked soil, the stain of blood upon rocks and broken boughs. The act of the hunt was not about something as unsophisticated as mindless brutality wrought on nature. Instead, it was a pledge forged in blood and moonlight, a sacrifice to the old slumbering gods of the forest, a return to balance.

The woods were a microcosm, depicting within it the life cycle of every organism. The fungus that grows in hot blistering shade, the flock of deer who had strayed too far, the vines twisting and turning underfoot, the rich green of moss thick upon bark.

She cleans the carcass once the arrow has struck – slicing through the soft stomach that spills out entrails, running her bloody palms over the sun-kissed pelt. She picks out the heart with tremulous fingers and kisses it, setting it down at the centre of a pentacle drawn in her blood. She grasps the antlers with a testing grip and feels its hardness against her flesh. An old male who had lived long and lived hard, antlers marked with hairline cracks and chips broken off. A worthy sacrifice.

Angharad doesn’t mind the mess, dark clots of blood staining her skirt like crushed roses, flesh under her fingernails, blood on her jaws, blood on her tongue. She knows true beauty is rarely a simple delicate thing. True beauty is startling horror, like the sight of maggots digging through dying flesh. Life replicating endlessly within the remains of the dead.

She loves the grotesque, the disgusting, because she knows being alive is being flesh and marrow, pus and putrescence. Death, like the wilderness of uncharted nature, was just as precarious and unpredictable. The forests, pristine and calm, could glow with the vivacity of burning forest fires. The calmness of mountains gave way to earth-shattering avalanches, trapping men beneath its rocky abyss. And when the moon rose overhead, a silver saucer surrounded by shadows, the waves would grow wild and unruly, as if they wanted nothing more than to steal it in their frothy embrace.

What goes unchanged too long destroys itself. The forest is forever because it dies and dies with each season and lives.

Once long ago, the Lochs and the moors belonged not to the mortals, not to the gods, but to his kind. The people called them The Fair Folk, The Good Neighbours, The Kind Ones. Every tenth of autumn, the villagers left a tithe at the standing stones, in the centre of fairy rings, at the edge of deep, dark woods, or by the shores of ancient Lochs. A loaf, a lock of hair, a pail of milk, or a drop of blood – lest the mists take more.

In those days, the mortals were weak and young, desperate with all the throbbing of their fruit-fly hearts, and often, they would wander into the moors or by the water’s edge in their despair, calling softly into the fog.

Something answered.

Something always answered.

The Watcher in the Foam.

They asked for strange, curious things. For the love of a lonely maiden, a child to fill their empty cradle, the life of an ailing relative. Sometimes, their wishes ran as dark as the kelps that lined the depths of the water. Sometimes they asked for blood – the blood of their old ugly wives, the blood of the cruel landlord, the blood of the arrogant nobleman who toyed with wives and widows.

They would find the entrails the next dawn, swirling around a wisp of fog, clinging to the kelps.

They loved him. They feared him. With every wish granted, the tithes lining the shores increased. The first fruit from an orchard, the first harvest, sometimes even a newborn. The fishermen prayed for his mercy along the waves, treading softly in the treacherous depths, and passers-by averted their gaze when they caught his silhouette perched upon the rocks, the sunlight glimmering in his soaked hair.

All was well, until the Age of Iron began.

Immortality : Fae do not age like mortals and live for centuries.

Glamour: As a kelpie, Aonghus uses glamour to shift in and out of his true form - that of a large dark water-horse who lingers by bodies of water and lochs, whose mouth is covered in layers of sharp teeth like a shark. To humans, he appears as a young ethereal man drenched in droplets of water, sunshine gleaming against his hair, fog surrounding him like a halo. He is also able to use his glamour to induce a sense of drowning, though that demands too much concentration.

Heightened Senses: Fae have enhanced senses, including superior hearing, sight, and smell, which allow them to detect things beyond human perception, especially in their natural surroundings.

Manipulation of Nature: As a kelpie, Aonghus can choose to appear out of water. Lakes or rivers or even small puddles. Depending upon his mood, rain and a thin halo of mist follows him around, either a gentle drizzle or a furious cloudburst. He leaves behind rain-soaked fairy rings in his wake. In his human form, water-soaked reeds are tangled in his hair.

Telepathic Communication: Fae can communicate with one another telepathically, especially within their own species or court. This power is often used to pass secret messages or issue commands silently.

KELPIE ABILITIES:

Drownspire Maelstrom: The kelpie sheds his deceptive surface form and calls the lake itself to heel. The water collapses inward, dragging his victim down into a roaring whirlpool. Beneath the surface, he dons his true water-horse shape—fanged, sinewed, and merciless—striking from every angle in the dark. When the waters finally still, nothing remains but pale entrails drifting like kelp along the lakebed.

Sunshard Armament: By catching sunlight as it fractures across rippling water, the kelpie forges radiant blades of hardened light. These liquid-glass weapons shimmer and bend like reflections, slicing with impossible angles.

Tether of the Still Pool: Any non-fae that touches the kelpie’s water-slick mane or skin becomes mystically bound. The bond grows heavier the farther the victim tries to flee, dragging them inexorably back toward the water’s edge.

Lullaby of the Reeds: Spirits of those claimed by the lake whisper a soothing lullaby, entrancing non-fae to willingly walk into the water.

Lake-Born Regeneration: While submerged, the kelpie rapidly heals wounds as the lake knits flesh and sinew back together. The darker and deeper the water, the faster the regeneration.

WEAKNESSES

One's Word is One's Bond: Once a Fae gives their word, they are honour-bound to keep it. Breaking an oath is punishable by death. However, Fae are masters of wordplay, so care should be taken when making promises to them, as their wording often includes loopholes.

Devotion: His utter devotion towards the princess means he has a tunnel vision of sorts that can be exploited.

Vulnerability to Iron- Primary fae weakness

Lack of water sources - A kelpie cannot heal or attain their true power potential without claiming a body of water as their domain.

Magical Bridle - A silver bridle endowed with Fae magic, often glamoured to resemble a necklace, stealing of which forces the kelpie to be held captive.

He was born without a name.

Solitary fae, like him, held close to the mortal realm, hiding themselves among the woods or the moors or the nameless ancient lakes where the veil between the worlds remained the thinnest. His kind preferred the lakes, submerging themselves among the dark inky waters, their great equine forms rolling under the waves, creating ripples and eddies as he traced the borders of his domain.

There has always been a kelpie in a great lake.

In ancient times, the villagers in the distant lands worshipped him as a god, a mystery, or something close to a deity. The Watcher in the Foam, they called him, describing the way the foam concealed his swallowing glare, the way his breath boiled the eddies. Few knew his name, and even fewer had ever seen his true haunting form, but whispers remained of one who watched the moorland lakes, the one who sometimes answered your darkest prayers.

In those days there was a Laird from the Highlands whose halls stood at the edge of the heath. His wife bore him no heir, and in his despair, he went out upon the moor at moonrise, calling softly into the fog. A child, he cried, a sweet little babe.

The Watcher answered. The waters swirled like a whirlpool, and from their midst, rose a great white horse, moon’s cursed glow dappled along its silver mane.

By winter’s end, a child lay in the cradle — pale, perfect, but quiet as fog. The baron rejoiced. The Laird’s Blessing, the villagers called him, noting how his unblinking gaze could call the mist from the moor. Yet as the years passed, the infant never grew, nor aged, nor cried.

The Laird grew foolish and restless, believing in his small mortal mind that he had been deceived. He decreed that the villagers stop paying their tithes at the edge of the Loch. He grew violent, roving mad, staring at the moon from his gardens, muttering mad feverish tales of vengeance.

Lured by the rumours, a priest of the new god came upon the land, carrying tales of miracles in his good book. The devil resides in the Loch, he said, walking upon his hoofed feet. The devil runs amok in the fjords, luring travellers to their destruction.

They devised a way to capture the devil, the Laird and his Man of God. They asked the blacksmith to craft an iron bridle, made with sharp spears heated in the braziers. And when night fell, the Laird went out to the Loch, carrying his changeling heir, and tricked the kelpie into appearing by offering his newborn as a tithe.

The iron melted his skin, and a hundred men pulled him out of the water – a great Fae, now captured. They stole his magic Bridle and put him to work in the fields, forever trapped in the form of a horse, and far away from the waters of his domain. Day and night, the kelpie worked, carrying heavy stones up a hill to build his brand-new castle. A castle, that would, for the first time in these regions, house a Church.

The night the castle was built, in the celebration that followed, the kelpie – wounded, grievously injured, and weakened – took advantage of the distraction to storm the halls of the Laird, using the last bit of his strength to find his magic bridle. He summoned a storm until the castle grew flooded with the racing waters, and issued a final curse.

“The Laird will never thrive, as long as the kelpie is alive.”

The next day, the villagers found a lake where the castle had been, and floating among the dark inky waters, the corpses of a hundred men and women, eviscerated, their entrails clinging like kelp.

Only the changeling survived. On the night of the child’s tenth birthday, as the candles burned low, the boy is said to have smiled for the first time. From that hour onward he grew as any mortal child, quick and clever, and lived a long life.

The kelpie wandered the strange lands that had once been his home. The waters were poisoned by the smoke that coiled like tar around the clouds. The mist soaked up the smog, and painted the moors a gloomy grey, as the woods and forests were chopped down to make way for machines. Great factories that buzzed and hummed through the night, restless and unwearied, as mortals crafted their weapons of war.

[TOXIC M/M ON-OFF ROMANCE WANTED]

FORUM • DISCORD • GUIDEBOOK • FACES • WANT ADS • SUBPLOTS For the last ten years (give or take), Elliot (Jacob Anderson FC) has been on and off romantically involved with this man. It's been a mess from the beginning, but they've somehow just never tired of the drama. When it's good, it's really good. They love each other. They are there for each other. They have a bond that's stronger than most. But when it's not? It's screaming matches. It's betrayal and threats. Elliot has certainly cheated on this guy and probably more than once.

Really, they should probably stay apart, but they can't. Not because of any magic spells or curses or because they're forced to find their ways back to each other; they just cannot for the life of them stay apart. Interested? For more information, click here!

[WANTED: MELINOE, THE GODDESS OF NIGHTMARES]

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Hades has tried his best to be there for Melinoe, but it has been hard. They likely have a close relationship but at time strained and Melinoe is likely more close with Hekate who raised her alongside Hades.

Interested? For more information, click here.

[WANTED: A MANIPULATOR FOR AN EMPATH]

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I'm looking for someone to collaborate and take on my gal CJ as a pet project. She's an empath who was the subject of a very bad government program, and the govt baddies are going to capture her again with her buddy Raph.

Enter the wrong kind of person - yay this is where I need you!

They're very calculated. Slow build up of getting their claws into her and really taking ownership of her need to feel wanted. Isolating her from her friendship with Raph especially. She latches onto them simply because they see her for once. But underneath they are absolutely wanting access to her skills or her powers, or both. Slowly giving her crumbs and eroding her boundaries because to them she feels she exists.

Interested? For more information, click here.

[WANTED: CLEAN-UP CREW LEADER FOR LONDON VAMPIRE CLUTCH]

FORUM • DISCORD • GUIDEBOOK • FACES • WANT ADS • SUBPLOTS Jack is the gruff, no-nonsense Head of the Cleanup Crew for the London Vampire Clutch, East London born and bred. A working-class lad with a chip on his shoulder and a heart buried somewhere beneath all that grumpiness. The clean-up crew is a professional crew of forensic experts, mostly humans, hired by the Vampire Clutch in order to keep up their squeaky-clean reputation to the general public. They're experts at cleaning up difficult crime scenes and coming up with plausible explanations for the sudden disappearance of humans.

His journey to becoming a member of the cleanup crew and then the leader was a series of clusterfucks, shit shows, and just a tough childhood. Coming from a hardworking, working-class family that always struggled, he doted on his little sister—but always acted like she annoyed the fuck out of him.

He is heavily influenced by Roy Kent from Ted Lasso. Face claim non-negotiable. Interested? For more information, click here.

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