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Etched in Stone

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About Etched in Stone

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  • Birthday 12/15/1991

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    Depths of the Underworld
  • Occupation
    Writer, Poet, Musician, Composer, Student

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  1. Etched in Stone

    Sokui no Rei (Jigoku no Toshi)

    “Master Kenshi we’ve received word the celebration has already begun. Hundreds of people are gathering in the Red District, you will be attending the ceremony no?” Weeks would pass, the former Hoga-Sha was no longer a bodyguard for the Emperor and his family. Still, he’d give life as quick he’d take one any moment for the heir and their lineage. Months of his service awarded him the rank of Imperial Army General, not only, but the Daiookami upped himself into his enjoyments and passions of Combat, opening the School of the Rising Sun as Soke Grand Master for the Dojo. Seemed since the success of capturing five war packs from Cobran, bringing with them to Jigoku four of their Alpha leaders; Kenshi’s esteem within the Nation was if not at near peak by now. That, along with the tall tale of him severing a man’s hand faster than a speeding bullet with his Blade during the Renovation Ball; a fellow reached at the Heika a little too aggressively and suffered true loss. Not only, but now his own hand was wanted in exchange for the damages caused. There was no way in his two-hundred years of semi-immortality he was giving it up. They had to take it and with force. Children of Jigoku loved to hear that story be told over and over as if it never aged with the months that passed. They idolized Momoku for his dedications and sword talents. The man was no more a myth, beyond the jurisdiction of the Nation he was known as the Legendary Swordslayer. Within Hinode no Gakko’s walls trailing the outline of a pupil, walking the circumference of a rather wide, spacious circle etched into the stone from the Dojo floor. The New Moon student was to take reoccurring steps in sequence using both legs respectively. The way of Taijutsu circle-walking was Kenshi’s basis for Martial teaching in which literally, only in proper form and placement of the feet one can truly execute it’s methods of stillness. His Student, a poor farmer’s boy whom plowed the crops for the Imperial Nation, a blind young lad Kenshi felt he could assist in lesson and sensory skill. Since the break of Dawn they’ve been practicing Katas similar to the Eight Trigrams repeating the techniques until they were done correctly and it was now Dark outside. Night had fallen upon them and the young lad was exhausted on his First day. “Kenshi-Soke my feet feel like sores are sprouting from standing on them all day. Burning the back of my legs, we have stood in this circumference the entire time. I don’t see how this pertains to true power and strength, I’m only walking in circles.” The Dojo itself was heavily influenced on early Shugendo beliefs, kakejiku scrolls littered the walls about telling tales from many different lifetimes of the Senjo no Ookami as early as his pilgrim years to his late Tsujigiri days of challenging every swordsman he came across in battle. Various weapons acquired from numerous amounts of Asian influences organized along the walls and shelves alike to a set of eyes, went untouched and were just for show. A full-plated Armour set rested as a mannequin in the far centre of the room polished in a thick coat of obsidian dragon scales, a brown seal or Kamon representing the Kokuryu no Kibo embroidered upon the cuirass or torso of the armor. A pair of Blades, one the Odachi and a Wakazashi mounted above on a wall behind the Samurai Armour in a pair of crimson red scabbard or saya. At the back wall the large artwork of Seven different Ookami Warriors from separate packs joined together. Symbolically, this brotherhood represented the many different nations of backgrounds it took to build such an Empire. Though the boy was unable to witness it with his own eyes, he would be told of it’s origin and beauty. These Swordslayers came to be known as the Wolves of Jigoku. “Power is not given, what is strength? An old man defends himself against a band of thugs with only a stick. We are Wolves of Jigoku, young one. Strength is already within you. An entire day’s training is what you earned because you had the power to push through the limits of your own body. If you cannot walk the circles, you cannot run. If you cannot run, what will you do in battle? The old man defended himself, not because he had power or strength, but because he was given the tools to do so against tougher enemies. You will do twenty more of these circles, or I will not attend the Celebration and I will no longer teach you these lessons.”
  2. Etched in Stone

    The Shell of Great Sins

    Benny reeked of incomparable power past ordinary measure; the trepidation of Tians incited the Demon to feel himself a Divine being among those won. Leinhart had yet supplanted his glimmering gold eyes from the circles on Benefactor’s face. Neither did the Count ascend from his stooped position; he stood put until given the chance to speak, yet once again. Gazing with an incredible look of enthusiasm about him in an abnormal, significant way Leinhart knew no better scalawag to end up familiar with amid his procurement of Copper City. Delicate porcelain digits kept running over the blend on the folder case similarly as with the other hand, he flipped and uncovered it's substance inside. Six thick vials of dark red quintessence laid in every one of their engravings of the short case. A proclaimed fix all solution for the diseased, dependent, the helpless. Gossipy tidbits of Immortality was already spreading into smaller, local cities around the area of the Haunted Glen. After reclosing the briefcase it was then that Master Kronos decided to rise from his kneel and proceed in his slow, graceful steps towards the throne. The pinstriped one dressed like a gentleman, yet behind those abyssal blacks held an unspoken peril upon these Tian civilians, drove Leinhart forward to yearn more of this darkness. His body covered in the linen fleece seemingly floated from the platform of the ground, but then even in a second breath he appeared to be walking again, or touching down. The Demon now towered before him and at about now it may resembled the prey was about to be eaten, the new jack was no good at negotiating. "At a hundred percent success rate I giveth thee, Elixirul De Vietti from my own sanguine. I've come to see the requirements of this here New World to offer the unprivileged a possibility at reclamation ... There is a catch, of course." @amenities
  3. Etched in Stone

    Chateau De Choisel | ENTER AT RISK

    "You proven me right all these centuries, dearest Tatia. Your Resurrection, though these bodies are only semblances of our former selves, it's taken me far and long to accustom to the New World. You are my Countess ... I cannot deny assistance any longer. This moment, I am in need of you more so than ever ... if I am defeated by the Benefactor, you are the only true remaining heir for Head of Choisel." Leinhart had much to say in what felt so little time. His apathetic facial expression showed a contrasting difference from his words. He grew to become who he was, but Tatia's presence brought to him a warmth he had not felt in centuries. To what the Humans considered romance a shared moment of feelings associated with love, the term amongst Vampires wouldn't be any more unique. Affection was a quality not all Undead had the capacity to acquire, in fact the first Human woman that came across Leinhart's path contrasted his believes and displayed to him what it meant to care for others. It may been difficult to express such sentiments, but ever so occasionally he reminded Tatia her irreplaceable worth to him. In itself, words went needless to explain. It was their blood instinct to comprehend such she was his soon to be second-wife. He cracked an out of nowhere frisky grin and snatched forth a lock full of hair with his right hand as she intertwined her legs around his waistline after allowing his entanglement. The white hand loosened it's grip to slide down for her thigh, stretching from behind she was busy with tending him. He groped once firmly mid-way the crevice of her blue blouse. Fingers pressed forth upon her thigh in gentle caress as she took hold of his shoulders; lean and lithe in frame, beneath the shirt he actually packed some heightened form of physical fitness. Her nails punctured his fleshy cheeks that rode all the way in a trail slowly down to his chest gliding towards destruction, it was fortunate that Leinhart enjoyed every passing second with his mistress sister. The scrapes on his face as any other part of his body she marked for her pleasures would already began to sew itself back together one strain a time. He raised both hands out of impulse or either forfeiting himself to end the rest of the eve, his golden swirls told an entirely different story from what he just mentioned. Still with her wrapped with legs around him he was unable to face her directly and maintained his focus playfully ahead at him. "Okay, I surrender. Now .. Enchant me. Or I've seen it all?" @Eternity
  4. Etched in Stone

    Chateau de Choisel: The Labyrinth That Is Her Mind

    ~ "Where did you even learn vampire?" The Night was as it had always been, even with good spirits from the genius Doctor Nash and her Project baby Otto tearing portions of the Castle's exterior here and there. Her Human life brought a fine line to coexistence amongst Vampires, primarily the House and Pureblood of Choisel. The ever changing labyrinth never appeared the same more than once since the Devil knew how long in his brief month of residence somehow, the estate fed from the prominent thriving Entropy of the Glen the Castle was told and found to been self-repairing. Silent eyes watched. The graveyard was rarely a place to mourn and weep those beloved and lost. On the other end of things in places that didn't grow beautiful with sunlight, tombstones there were in fact sleeping grounds for the Undead. Down, deep beneath the surface of land slumbered a massive force of nearly 5,000 dormant undisturbed until, footsteps from men trampled into the premise trespassing Chateau De Choisel in their wicked intents.. Those of the Dark Legion a handful, were once living men that swore fealty to the House of Choisel, while a good portion been acquired through the many centuries of Leinhart's eternal mortality. These numbers were no-where close to actual count of D.L in his expense, but it was enough to guard the 400,000 sq. ft. property without need of reinforcements. Swimming across the sky the travelers would soon discover they weren't the only ones there. Undead Crows with their reddened pupils and wingspans twice the size of their worldly counterparts! Talons were like they could easily snatch up victims and tear the bodies to devour them. These hungry meat-feeders circled the trio in route from above, dipping in and out of existence, falling in the shadows provided by the Night. The Patriarch vampire did not sit in his throne, from the large bay window of the Great Hall that overlooked the Courtyard he watched, a hand outstretched the velvet drapery slightly. Ember red eyes complimented his undershirt of a long-sleeved scarlet silken button down. Of course, these passersby had been long spotted and word was received to be handled accordingly. Even in the face of his own Death, the Dark lord could not resist his good looks and taste in fashion. The culprits had another thing coming their way, something far more unexpected than the Rotting Cadavers they were soon skirmishing. ~ "Consider it taking up your friends offer, I quit. I am taking this, and going home. Consider it my share of all the treasure you find the rest of the time here" If by in a short few seconds after Max removed the ruby from it's sacred place the ground beneath his soles began to rumble, not only just was the surface trembling under his feet but his companions as well. The man was celebrating himself too soon, or counting his chicken before they hatched. His friends, just for bystanding had to suffer as well. Though with the fool of a Piratee like Max who could not resist such temptations of man, he would be afflicted in curse the worst out of the looters. The creeping noises in the background became more hissy once they removed the rags that covered their six foot frames. These Undead knights had partial remnants of their former armour as swordsmen under Choisel banner paced even closer in their plated boots by two's for each man. All the while, the mausoleum was still ….. Tumbling.
  5. Etched in Stone

    Project Destroy Tia

    Damn so I’ve missed registration, then huh?
  6. Etched in Stone

    Chateau De Choisel | ENTER AT RISK

    Who could convince a Master manipulation of his wrongdoings, otherwise? Someone, whom could not only erase memories and replace them, but also persuade the others highly that in fact Alistair committed bloodletting upon his freed Will. Even as Maryanne his secret lover bare witness to the scene and responded to medical needs just as effective and efficient as Al' she too, wouldn't recall a thing long as he allowed it. Only to make that happen Martis required some type of physical contact to the supernatural's pathways to disengage such thoughts, figments of the past to be ridden. - That day was now a few past them. A trial was to be heard soon, as word of the Doctor's fortunate mishap spread across the Castle like wildfire. Martis had only, but a good week or so to come up with his own evidence against Alistair whom since the day of their dispute had been yet to seen again. "One cannot be wronged for the truths witnessed.", The ruckus and bustle vibrated the stone walls of Cervantes quarter, an apartment of his own on the far right side of the second story. His icy gaze had grown more sullen and malicious over the course of a few days than their usual bright and harmonious perspective. He stood at the velvet curtains from one of several oval-shaped windows, his sight tracing for the voice that been stuck in his head since the Devil knew how long. Beneath in the Courtyard was Quin and the beast experiment he had yet to familiarize himself with. His eyes could not believe the size of that thing, even more, was curious to how effective it would been defending invaders and guarding the Castle. Or was it's combat just as bad as it was clumsy and uncoordinated? In his right hand held a half-full glass of viscous bloodred fluid he downed in a single gulp only to set the glass onto a dark oakwood end table . "Could I have let feelings blind my judgement?" Even as he attempted to clear those images he felt more afflicted by the fact, he could not save her personally and refrain having to turn into the very being he came to despise. He was growing deranged by the thought, soon, blood would be his calling the only feasible cure to his coming insanity having not fed since he could remember his arrival at the Chateau.
  7. Etched in Stone

    The Shell of Great Sins

    Something doesn't feel right. Despite how the music awfully began to take to his liking Martis found that it was true what Quin had said, he with the others felt growing attention and swarm eyes peering from all angles at the two tables. Not only was the Keeper a specialist of Mind Control, but he had the ability to read intents of if not majority the gawkers, which he was able to relay a message via telepathy to Master Choisel. Him along with the Eight were once, residences of this forsaken city of Vampyre. To remain unscathed through the tumult and witness all that was left of the once great Copper City, only to abandon it the Cervantes was reviled and deemed a threat like the rest of Choisel. While in charge of the others he knew when to signal for attention, the last possible minute to not engage in combat unless necessary. Seems those words went out the window upon demonstration against the vendor, however the Cervantes knew well within the complexities of his Undead years in Tia, once Vandom stroke the undead it virtually left Master Choisel without an option. As prior locals they understood law better than the others and already knew, a crime was committed by both Lein and Damien. Though, seemed as if they bothered not to give the first warning and gravity of said valued core system. Barring fangs slightly towards the glimmer of shadows he knew were preying eyes, a hand wrapped so that it locked around Quin’s elbow as he listened to her, but never broke contact on them. “My Dear, you are right. We have an audience ourselves, so it seems. If for, but a split moment I am unable to protect you, this will be the best time to test the effectiveness of your newest edition. Of course, you have my life at your service.” Leinhart was no fool some would say, a washed-up wanted such as he had grown weak and imbecile over the countless years. The Pureblood no lingered claimed the title of Kronos the Thirsty. Soon, he was either to prove those correct upon theory or show and exceed expectations. He’d soon grip the dangers faced on the upper levels back in Jidoor as he could discern through vampiric senses, but not only the uneasy and awkward behaviors coming from May; the brief warning of possible distress was received. Something was up. The Pureblood strolled further, greater victory was soon to be at hands. His goldenrod bulbs seemed to become sunken, compelled to the voice that called forth May. This is far as I can take you, Mr. Choisel. Benny has a crush on me, so I don’t think it’s wise that I go with you. Mmmmaayyyyyyyyy, don’t play Benny like that, You know you want me just one more time. The frozen velvet voice was his calling as the Demon beckoned his distant lover, energy radiated most heavily now; almost the exact incredulous power that lured him all the way to Tia from the Glen. Leinhart parted with May she seemed troubled, but first delivered her a gesture of his hand that didn't wave goodbye; a firm flat erect palm spoke for it's own accord. Slightly, he arched and courtesy a bow for her brief service and direction. It was true, either way, this winged woman of Undead would more than likely not ever see the Dark lord again. Unless, situations were called for. There was Vampyre blood coursing her veins already and he wouldn't delve any further under evidence. While an Undead's body did not produce the reaction of goose bumps, it did entice the Pureblood to further investigate said ruins; cowhide loafers seemingly tiptoed into the rundown foundation. To his own amazement, strewn carcasses amongst the premise happened to be the immense outpour of Entropy the Undead felt and more than ever, did his urge to his assimilate it begin to itch. This was a graveyard, not a rundown establishment. His thinned lips parted and smirked spreading to a serrated grimace, a partial glimpse of his true corruption flashed into existence twisting and remolding the Supernatural's features to something more deathly and grotesque. Mr. Choisel His sunken golden orbs were no longer eating at their surroundings with eyes once the name and Patriarch was brought to attention, but delving towards the holes from the Demon's eyes. The lithe, slender male approached in peacoat head held high, staring coldly without emotion, his face blank and white as porcelain. The Corruption radiating his form was intangible shrouding him in an ever-constant devouring aura that didn't feed off malicious intent or wickedness, but weakness and death. In the grasp of his right a black cloud of Darkness covered over the hand only to reveal a leather briefcase in it's clearing. Leinhart pulled the case from the table he sat and left back in Jidoor. Taking to a kneel was something a Count or a Patriarch had known better than to do, but in playing his cards correctly he had to present first the Humble beast to achieve what it was he desired. In his halt he took to crouch upon a single knee with the briefcase resting on it's side, gazing intently his goldenrods into the abyssal eyes of the Demon. To what does the Benefactor owe this delectably scented pleasure? "It is I whom owes you, Benefactor. I've traveled far and wide to meet the Demon behind all this madness. I am rather impressed by your works, Lord Benefactor."
  8. Category four hurricane scheduled to hit NC and I’m here. Not so much my city, but just so you guys aware.

    Shouldn’t slow me any longer than I’ve been posting. But, heads up.

    1. DarkHorse
    2. Twitterpated


      It's down grading now, but flooding is still a risk. I think y'all are far enough north now that it seems to be shifting west. Still, be safe. 

  9. Etched in Stone

    The Shell of Great Sins

    “So! Why’d you leave your friends behind? They didn’t seem to like the performance much, and I’m sure they feel awkward with half the vampires in Tia staring them down. You might even need their help,” Her last few words stung his gut a million times, had she known of the Pureblood personally; the only material substance the Undead required was lifeforce. Yet, a soft grin allowed her statement to pass the time being before a reply was summoned. The demon relics caused his existence here on Valucre that made him set out to the distant lands, maybe Lein exchanged too much information with the middle man and was digging himself deeper into inevitable trouble? Unbothered by how things may turn out for better, or worst the situation almost seemed to go too - smoothly, the Vampire was not oblivious to such façades as this. He allowed the winged one to continue and assume he was inadequate. If he stayed two steps ahead of her premeditatively she'd been dead by now. She was vital to the cause for now, though her dead blood was deemed ungood his mental desires wished to see her bathe in her own pool. Giving in to the unwordly was rather, just up his alley. In order to shell away those emotions, Leinhart had to maintain his role as the humble beast. "You're right ….. Here, we are dearly outnumbered if some outbreak were to occur, we all would be surrounded yes?" His careless tone fluctuated in it's sarcasm. He didn’t trust more or less what she had to tell him. "As I can't afford any more unwanted attention. Let's say, I may have some business for the Demon." He partially lied. It was after those last words he remembered he left the goods with Quin and the group upstairs or above surface. Judging how he no longer heard the music or felt the Coven's presence drift further and further until only their voices bounced from the walls of the tunnels. May had to feel some sort of security about herself, or perhaps Leinhart‘s lackadaisical, unamused character was enough to consider he was no threat. Or perhaps the undead creature was far more capable of handling herself? Maybe she had the master plan already devised and the Choisel Count was walking into his own trap? Unsure on how things may played out, he was almost positive they were headed on the right track to meet with Benny. They whipped and turned, passageways were no longer directly ahead but all around as they passed an intersection. By the growing dank aroma he discerned their journey had almost been complete. His goldenrod glitters remained straight ahead with May in plain sight to his astonishment, some sort of run-down destroyed remains of a building stood tall skyrocketing upwards. This one had to be La Belle Peches. They walked from underground to what Leinhart assumed was the outdoors with no idea in his mind how they made it out in the first place with no evident escape. Upon further inspection it would seem the growing stench had come from a throne composed of piled corpses, bits and pieces from an array of many different beings. A throne he wished for himself back at the Chateau. Ohh, the beauty of being a full bred monster. His eyes would not believe his sight, the more they neared the clearer the shadowed silhouette came to view. May didn’t have to open her mouth to mention, he knew otherwise the one standing in the darkness ahead just had to been the Benefactor. His dead heart should have pulsed a rhythm upon realizing such, Leinhart felt alive again or was it just the relief from chancing himself all the way down in an underground tunnel with a stranger who already knew more of him than he did of her? Still, if tables turned sour and there was no reasoning with the great demon Benny then Leinhart was prepared for any and all repercussions. He stood back allowing May the introductories the whole time staring the Benny down. They had got to been kidding, right!
  10. Etched in Stone

    Welcome to the Festival of Blades (Ursa Madeum)

    Havent gotten back to me on that, yet? @Diremast
  11. You’re a pretty good writer man, welcome to Choisel. Excited to see what goes on. 

  12. Etched in Stone

    House of Choisel, BEWARE OOC

    My discord hasn’t been working. Ahhh been a busy week, please welcome him. I’ll be coming back shortly with replies.
  13. Etched in Stone

    Chateau De Choisel | ENTER AT RISK

    What went from a potentially long day from beginning with the mysterious cat Cariella and Quin, then the unexpected arrival of that Kenric Vampyre turning down Choisel’s preposition, back to the Doctor’s near suicide from whatever she ingested. There was not a dull moment in the day from Alistair and Martis‘ brief confrontation; if the soul was curious the day been filled by far with unorderly conduct and behavior. Madness and chaos. Something Leinhart thrived to continue spreading under Choisel rule and order. However, in a wasted effort it was enough for a span of twenty-four hours to swallow with entire dissatisfaction. Half the tasks on his agenda was incomplete. His apology to the Doctor for what occurred just two days ago went unquoted, not that he forgot his act of insatiable thirst for her that sprung from no where, that wasn’t the case. He just never seemed a proper setting to do so without interruptions. “I come for thee now, my Countess.” His dark contrasting black and crimson red coat would be there as he stood, standing in front of the doorway to the Master bedroom. His hands stuffed in the pockets of his coordinating slacks as he stepped further into the room with a brilliant goldenrod look upon him, searching to find Tatia lying in their bed in her nightgown and a precious jewel of sorts emanating great sentiments upon her chest. Of course she’d sniff him out before he even got close to the bed, but still, Leinhart had moved through the room as without any sound. To his own surprise her body seemed to be relaxing, which was good considering it hadn’t been long since her resurrection on planet Valucre. He slid towards her end of the deluxe mattress noting her shut eyes and her still body, almost as if she was sleep. He popped himself a squat next to her, the bed sinking in plushness to his own comfort. He leaned towards her chin simultaneously placing his hands just above her bust, opened his mouth ajar and extended his slithery serpent’s tongue. Pink and mucosal having extended nearly six inches outwardly, which at this point was no telling just exactly what Master Kronos had in store next. Riding his tongue gently from the bottom edge of Tatia’s chin, all the way to the lobe on her left ear he stopped, the top half of his body hovering her lying form. Ironically, this was one of several ways the Pureblood marked territory. He whispered to her softly his breath a reminder of his favorite scent - green mint. His affection and love for her was not like that of a sibling, and though he disdained the feeling he knew not to express so carelessly- since her day of arisen he found himself compelled to care for her even more than ever. “I must apologize; how long it took to resurrect your living flesh. Tatia .” His tongue seemed to always roll in his pronunciation of her name. He removed his hands from her chest sitting with his back erect upon the edge of the bed and retracted his slither with a smile she has yet to seen. It was different from the rest of his half-assed grins she had seen one thousand times over another thousand years. No, this one was felt with true emotions. He cared for his sister more than what was being expressed and it was the monster within whom he could no longer hide and deny, that kept those once heartfelt feelings at a distance locked and sealed no longer to be the Lein’ she once remembered. Happy, loving, and full of surprise.
  14. Etched in Stone

    The Shell of Great Sins

    As Leinhart was escorted off through a hole in the wall the eight Vampyre sat amongst themselves in comfort enjoying what little they could from the Oaxaki performance. The group from the Glen weighed down to being four men and the other four women. The dirty blond Martis was in charge of these lesser Vampyre. Even seated at the table with the Coven from Choisel his icy blue jewels bounced to and fro the stage, the table of followers, then ever so occasionally back at the hole again with each minute that passed wondering just how long Leinhart’s and May’s conversation could last. Unlike the Coven Martis was well familiar with Jonothan not so much to known him personally, but the occasional flyers throughout the city whenever he traveled was enough to understand just whom the man was as well as his influence amongst the Tians. Music continued pumping and pulsing throughout the proximity so much his ears felt as if they began to bleed from all the noise. The Keeper was relieved on the other. It was not so often they were found out in the public, mingling in a social atmosphere like the human kind. Still, he was surprised to see people peacefully coexist, especially after recent outbreaks and raids nearly causing the entire city to go on twenty-four hour lockdown. Until, the vigilant vampyres were suppressed and dealt with accordingly. Martis knew well if they were ambushed at a time like this, the tide of battle wouldn’t been so much in their favor. Not unless, they somehow gained the service and assistance from the other Vampyres attending. No telling how the others felt about the uprising, tyrannous House of Choisel however.