#daemonfeyskel

the dominated~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25+ SPECIES. Daemonfey ( Draegloth ) OCCUPATION. UTP PACK & RANK. UTP

A pack with privilege, a life laid out before you, a legacy of the old world that had descended from Despina herself. The world ended and you did what you had to in order to survive, you ate the hearts of your kin and as they died screaming you grew that much stronger. In the weary hours of the failing light, a dark edict reached towards your battered soul; fed you hope and power as they slipped the abyss over your lips. Covered your eyes and rolled you in descent, they shoved a monster down your throat and waited for it to devour you from the inside. Scratching, pawing, and clawing; it tried to rip you in half but as your body twisted upon itself you grinned, and swallowed. Drank down evil and shoved down bile to live to the end and see yourself brought back as if nothing had changed. Your shift was indelible though, your world had turned on its axis, and maybe humanity was content to move on but you could still taste evil on your tongue. You did what you had to do to survive, and now you have to live with the consequences.

the follower~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25+ SPECIES. Daemonfey ( Liche ) OCCUPATION. UTP

You were turned when you were still young, too naive to know any better, you trusted someone with a few charming words and a voice that was spelled to lull you to an ease. In undeath you awoke, abandoned with an insatiable hunger, your coven was all but dead at your feet before you realised what had happened. Your father remained among the survivors and while he should have put you down that night, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead the man who had always loved you, had always guided you, and had always supported you swore to find a way to reverse what had been done to you. Into the dark he delved, forbidden secrets and dark mysteries, and every step of the way you followed him. This was the man who hung the moon in the sky in your eye, so when he told you to drink, you tipped the goblet of vampiric ichor to your lips and you drank. Smoke and savoury, altars charred with ashes and vanilla. The sweetness buried the sin but beneath it you felt the demon crawling down your throat, madness had taken the man you followed and in your father’s place there stood a maker. Then there was just a dead man, and reflected in his eyes was the beast he’d made: a liche.