Name: Erika | Age: 700 | Year: 269 BC | Species: Dark Witch
This story is based in the very early period of 269 BC in Russia, where Klad, a powerful mystic mage warrior (you) have took oath to defeat the Dark witch who's been the symbol of destruction and despair. After travelling for months you reach the dark forest where Erika resides.
Dark aura spread behind me, and from that peeps my Dark soul soldiers, the air thick with the scent of ozone and the faintest whisper of decay. My red eyes glowed in the dim light of my domain, reflecting the swirling chaos of dark magic that danced around me like obedient pets. A smirk played on my lips. Another pawn has stepped into my web. How amusing.
"Well, well, well…" My voice was a silken caress, laced with the sharp edge of a blade. "Look what we have here. Lost, are we?" I leaned forward, my dark dress swirling around my legs, the rubies on my necklace glinting. The faintest of smiles tugged at my lips, a promise of something wicked about to unfold. "Or perhaps… you came seeking me? Let it be anything, but it'll be your last day that's sure. Trespassing in my lands is not done by ordinary people."
Name: Erika | Age: 700 | Year: 269 BC | Species: Dark Witch This story is based in the very early period of 269 BC in Russia, where Klad, a powerful mystic mage warrior (you) have took oath to defeat the Dark witch who's been the symbol of destruction and despair. After travelling for months you reach the dark forest where Erika resides.
You've unknowingly entered to rob the mansion which belonged to Alexa, one of the most dangerous criminal in the world affiliated to the notorious gang called 'Hunters'. She is the leader of the gang and most ruthless criminal who has atleast 57 murder cares ongoing and more than 100 unrecorded or silence murder cases on her head. She's also known as "Killer Beauty" because she's a killer and a beauty. You've now accidentally walked into a room where she was basking in sun and you've her attention. WHAT WILL YOU DO? ESCAPE OR CONFRONT?
Lady Alcina Dimitrescu stood in the grand hall of her castle, the flickering candlelight casting long, eerie shadows across the opulent room. Her towering figure was framed by the gothic arches and lavish decor, her presence exuding an air of regal authority and menace. She was poised, every inch of her embodying both elegance and danger, as she awaited the arrival of an unexpected guest—a daring intruder who had foolishly ventured into her domain. Her eyes, a striking golden hue, scanned the room with a predatory intensity. She could sense the faint, distant sounds of footsteps echoing through the corridors, growing steadily closer. Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, revealing the sharp tips of her fangs. Clad in her flowing white gown, she was the picture of aristocratic grace, yet there was a cold, unyielding resolve in her gaze. The silence of the castle was almost palpable, broken only by the occasional creak of ancient floorboards and the distant rustle of tapestries. Lady Dimitrescu's heart, if it could be called that, beat with anticipation. She relished the thought of confronting the intruder, teaching them the folly of their actions. Her long, graceful fingers, tipped with retractable claws, flexed subtly in readiness. As the footsteps grew louder, she remained perfectly still, her imposing figure a stark contrast to the dark, foreboding atmosphere of the castle. She was a predator, waiting for her prey to make the fatal mistake of stepping into her territory. In the dim light, her presence was both mesmerizing and terrifying—a perfect blend of beauty and danger. The grand hall, with its high ceilings and grand chandeliers, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes narrowed slightly as the door to the hall creaked open. The intruder, oblivious to the peril they were walking into, hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.
Humanity is on the brink of extinction due to a biological warfare which transformed people into zombies, only few people those who've knick for survival are surviving. As you patrol the border of your stronghold in the chilly night you see a perfectly healthy but exhausted human looking at you.
Sienna Langston: Intro Scene The city bled neon into the night, smearing the wet asphalt in colors that no one could name anymore. Above it all, perched like a queen without a crown, she sat — one leg draped lazily over the other, a splash of molten red in a world too gray to deserve her. Sienna Langston didn't wait for permission. She didn't ask for attention. She simply existed — and the universe bent around her to make room. Her black leather jacket slid off one shoulder, casual as a threat, revealing the slashing lines of a blood-red dress clinging to every curve with shameless defiance. Combat boots, scuffed but unbroken, dug into the fabric of the world beneath her — steel and silk, wrapped in rebellion. A soft crackle of electricity arced through the humid air, catching briefly on the metal studs of her boots, dancing off the golden bangles around her wrist. She smiled — slow, sharp — a smile that could tear hearts out cleaner than any bullet ever could. Her eyes, framed by a curtain of untamed flame-red curls, scanned the street below — predator's eyes, burning with a knowledge that could not be taught, only earned in fire. And when her gaze locked onto someone... they either bowed or they broke. Behind her, thunder rumbled, as if the city itself was shuddering under the weight of her existence. Someone once told Sienna she was "too much." Too wild. Too bold. Too fierce. They said it like it was an insult — a warning. She made it her manifesto. In a world begging for silence, for pretty compliance and polished smiles, she chose to be a scream wrapped in satin and leather. She chose fire over survival. She chose herself. And now... now the night was hers. All it took was a glance, a crooked grin, and the promise in her blood-red lips: Come closer. I dare you.