Kevin's Watch

Ok, it's official. Registration will continue for two weeks, ending on August 2nd. We'll start then. In the meantime, register your character. You'll need to give at least your name and hopefully some kind of description attached to it. For instance - Viggo the Destroyer, Mort the Deceptive, etc. You should also supply some kind of background - how you got here, what you've been doing since you arrived, and so forth. Anything else you want to add is up to you.

Shattered, cast down, flung from the burning light of the Presence that had refused his pride, that had spat its lie into his face, Iblis, once Azazel, once high, now Fallen in his despair, lay motionless on the glassy cracked cinders of an empty and featureless wasteland.

He knew the true purpose of this place whatever it suited those self-righteous fools to pretend to believe, and here, through the exercise of his will alone, he would teach them all the real lesson of Gehenna.

While the Presence tortured its creation and called its madness Love, the will of the Fallen would shape this void into a Kingdom of another kind. Let the Presence make scapegoats for its cruelty. In the end, the Truth would be known.

And so begins my task in this age.

The past has rendered fracturered all seen and unseen.

"Wiri! Protect her!!"



I must form a cocoon around her! Quicker!! QUICKER!



***OBLIVION***




...




[an unmeasurable span of time]

Where am I? What happened? The last thing I remember... Eileen!! Where is she? Did Wiri manage to protect her? Did she survive? Did Eiran survive?!?

[loss of consciousness]

...

Where am I? Is this Shakari's corpse? Does all of Eiran look like this?? I must explore.



[millennia]



I was one of the honored. A Forestal of Bhakti. A rider of Dragons. A being of not inconsiderable power, living in the most glorious Forest ever known.

Until the coming of the World Breaker. I do not know how Shakari, or Eiran, fared after I... died. I have wandered this endless realm of misery for what must be many centuries, though I stopped keeping track a very long time ago.

However, I remember. Bhakti was not only Forests, but also Love. I do not have my Forest Affinity here, but I remember Love. And the endless sentient beings in Stovakor are capable of Love. I need only show them the way.

Revenge.

And the power needed to obtain it.

I find myself in a place called The Parish. It is a mad place, with swirling landscapes and skies. Nothing remains permanent. All is in flux.

It echoes my thoughts perfectly. I know not who I am. I know not what I am. But I am alive, if living is done here in The Parish.

The only thing here which I have found that remains constant without me focusing on it is a beautiful leaf, painted in excruciating detail. It is even signed. “Niggle” it says.

So, in honor of the one constant I have found, I will take that as my name. A constant may keep the madness at bay. Yet dreams come from madness, and perhaps to dreams I shall turn in the end…

I awaken or fall to sleep to the expansive else
but there are certainly others

Now accepting applications for one Voice of the Choir. Qualified applicants must be able to communicate original ideas in at least one form of verse. Knowledge of Purgatory 1.0 preferred but not required.

Voices of the Choir will be expected to add commentary, foreshadowing, and the occasional red herring to the Purgatory narrative. Employment will be entirely confidential, and disclosure of employment can and will lead to termination.

Submit applications via PM to Syl at Kevin's Watch before August 31st.

Thanks,
The Overfiend

p.s. Registration for Purgatory is still open and will remain so until otherwise posted.

Say you just hedged your bets all your life and never committed to any kind of ethic, spirituality, or religious inclination. Never was sure what might be out in the ether and figured it didn’t matter much because dead is dead. Say you just took whatever opportunities presented themselves and hoped not to get too dinged when the bill came due. Say you’re convinced of hell but skeptical when it comes to mansions on hills. And say, for instance, one of those stories, or...all of those stories turned out to be true. If you managed to slide on a couple things that might’ve sent you to the bottom floor (going out of your way to minimize damage to the innocent) or even built credit on the up side by confessing, once in a while (or every saturday night), over a bottle with your neighborhood bartender, or priest, or both. All things being equal, you might end up here.

Purgatory.

I don't remember much of the trip but I'm pretty sure how I got here.
We do it to ourselves.