this is Salem, a land filled with magic and maladies. It is a place where witches and their elemental familiars gather, a home to legend and
lore that predates time itself. Yet of all the wicked and wonderful stories the past can tell us of, the most magical are the ones yet to happen.
This is Salem - this is the start of your very own journey. Welcome to starfall
Starfall is an animaga witch roleplay set in mostly modern times. Members play as witches in a world plagued by monsters, where the only safe spots are walled cities. Starfall strives to be a character-driven roleplay with expansive lore and a highly interactive plotline. We want to allow members to
create and look back on a magical journey, and mold the site and its plot as their characters grow.
The keep was alive with the sound of slithers-- Riley never considered herself much of a snake but she knew when the rodents were getting their scales in knots. Whispers, dark eyes, thin lips. And then, of course, the innocent wide eyes of the fledglings that had no conspiracy to suspect, no knowledge of how the game was played (or that, perhaps, there even was a game being played). [break][break] She did not know which look was more sweet to savor.[break][break] Today, she was in Dmitri’s room. That wasn’t too unusual. He typically didn’t like her being in there, but Dmitri was no fool to leave anything lying around that could be used against him. Allowing her inside his room whenever she wanted wasn’t a lack of foresight, it was a decision made through careful and unseen deliberation.[break][break] Yes, through some twist of fate she’d come to be able to admire certain traces of the man she hated.[break][break] The door of the room opened and Dmitri paused for a millisecond upon seeing someone in his chair (if anyone else, what would his reaction have been?) before he smiled vaguely. His grip on the papers inside his hand tightened by less than a fraction-- but Riley noticed it. She could practically see him breathe, feel the beating of his heart.[break][break] “There was someone looking through your things a while ago,” she mused, spinning the chair so that she could look out of the window from the corner of her eyes.
Dmitri did not understand why Riley was so keen on bothering him. Well. That was a lie--he had enough suspicions to make educated guesses. But he wasn’t interested in playing guessing games with the witch hunter. If she did her job, that would be enough for him. [break][break] His eyes narrowed at what she said. “Is that so? Then why don’t you get off my chair and do something about it?”[break][break] Dmitri did not have a particular fondness for death as Riley did, but he also did not particularly enjoy his enemies near his workspace. And well, one had to outweigh the other.[break][break] He walked up to his desk and laid the bundle of papers onto it. He did a lot of his work from home, but sometimes it was necessary to show up at the keep and keep things in line. His blue eyes glared silently at Riley, wordlessly expecting her to vacate his little throne.
Riley thought Dmitri was a rather fascinating phenomenon- she had done enough research about him to make herself a fan in her own right: an orphan from the depths of the hovel that had clawed out of poverty and went by more names than the names people had for their gods. It had been hell to trace his history, and she was certain she did not have anything close to the full picture.[break][break] The way he played his game, no one did. People were invited for bits and pieces. Never enough to make sense of what was going on. Never enough to be a threat.[break][break] She supposed she, like any, would have enjoyed the the blueprints of his grand scheme. And perhaps if she played her cards by the book it wouldn’t be too far from her grasp. “Oh don’t worry silly. He’s already dead. I sent his name to the reception; told them our scouts couldn’t recover the pieces enough for a proper burial. Closed casket is the best kind, don’t you think?”[break][break] Her voice was a whisper as she brushed him by, moving away from the chair to his dresser instead.[break][break] She could have the blueprint...but there was something else she coveted more than all.
“Death isn’t the clean business you think it is, Riley. What was the poor witch’s name? If he’s one of Francis’s novices it’d have been more of a mess than it was worth.”[break][break] Frankly speaking, Dmitri did not quite understand how any lingering sentiment surrounding the old leader of Silvertongue still survived. Francis was probably converting Barric loyalists with clever words-- there was no other possible source for his numbers. [break][break] Dmitri sighed and looked at the documents concerning a proposal for an interesting set of extra-coven diplomacy efforts. Quetzacoatl. He wondered what the point was, especially considering Dmitri himself had rather directly declared the coven’s innocence. [break][break] Funds were suffering, relations were growing tentative. But that was a calculated cost. Regardless, this operation did not really hinder him. But seeing the neat cursive F.G at the bottom of the page irked him. “What a stupid plan.” A pause. “Do you know what a red bird of mine told me? Medeia is planning a diplomatic ban on members of silvertongue for the empyreal cup...I think a part of her is still playing games with her dollset, wouldn’t you agree?”[break][break] He sat on his chair and waved airily at Riley. “The good wine is to your right, love.” He did not know how she survived on tea alone. Perhaps that was the root of her insanity.
“Oh he was someone unimportant. I don’t think Francis is dumb enough to send a rook to eat a pawn...but who knows? We might just get lucky if he keeps slipping up.”[break][break] She pretended to be shaken at the abrasiveness. “I’m sure your admirers put effort into that one, Dmitri. Play nice. Francis will die before he can spread any wings. And the rest of it is children’s play. Let the children play.” Her hand dances around the cupboard before she removed a bottle and two glasses.[break][break] Riley chortled gleefully. “Oh like you’re any more mature. I mean, you could’ve ended this all with an apology,” she stressed, smirking because she knew that had never been an option in the first place.[break][break] “But here we are. A toast...to Silvertongue.”
Riley’s comment about the apology made Dmitri laugh out loud. (Or perhaps it was the irony in the fact that she was the one talking about immaturity?) He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Silvertongue had been and always would be a means to an end. And this wasn’t just true for him-- for everyone inside the coven. Money was a means. Death was a means. To what end? Not glory, not kindness, not vengeance. But to any end. Any end at all. That was the beauty of the never-ending ambition, the never-fading flame of the coven's very existence...[break][break] And yet over the years Silvertongue had become a source of satisfaction for even Dmitri Wisbane. With its snakes and politics, lies and games and incomplete ends.[break][break] He reached for the glass of wine- its rich smell flew into his throat. And then he sighed as the toast was made. He sighed, swirled the glass to have a better look at the liquid, crossed his legs so that one ankle rested on one knee, and stared a Riley with drawn-on interest.[break][break] “Veritaserum, really?”
Perhaps she’d have been better off with poison- at least those never seemed to fail her. But against Dmitri Wisbane and the mystery of over twenty years ago, everything seems to fail her.[break][break] Suddenly angry, suddenly furious, wrath flaring in her chest like an inferno she cannot hope to quench, Riley slams her hands down on the table and glares at the Silvertongue leader with incandescent hate in her eyes. “Where is my sister, Wisbane?” she hisses, words like vivid poison on her tongue. Memories swirl around her, envelop her: vivid flashes of tangled foliage and dark woods, feet pounding out a drumbeat of fear and desperate rage against an unyielding forest floor; she remembers a scream splitting the air, high and terrified and stealing all air from her lungs; the soft chiming of bells, then-[break][break] Darkness.
He sat calmly in the face of Riley’s sudden rage, eyeing her with a look of cool disdain as he set the wine glass on the table. The room echoed with the clink as the glass touched the smooth surface, but Dmitri leaned back to bask in the silence instead. Though everything about his posture screamed disinterest and boredom, his eyes were sharp like knives.[break][break] “Now now, Riley.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth in patronizing disapproval.. “Don’t drag me into your delusions. Even if I knew them, your sister’s whereabouts wouldn't concern me.” [break][break] Sitting up straighter, Dmitri allowed some of his mocking condescension to fall away, lip curling at the edges as his tone chilled to something resembling a glacial winter. “Either grow up and control yourself, Riley, or get out,” he said with finality.
He didn’t answer her. Of course he didn’t. She sneered at him, the sheer amount of venom in her expression enough to make a lesser witch cower. “You’re playing with pieces you can’t control,” she said viciously, all but baring her teeth with the livid fury that masqueraded as a too-sharp smile. [break][break] “Take a page out of Barric’s book, High Priest. Quit while you’re ahead. Wouldn’t want you to suffer simply because you didn’t know when to stop now, would we?” Riley’s expression made it very, very clear that no, she rather would like to see Dmitri suffer. [break][break] Rising to her feet, her expression was somewhere between thunderous and wrathful as she made her way to the door. She paused there, on the threshold, looking back at the coven leader who still looked as if he were walking the borderline between mildly amused and utterly bored. Riley’s face was embittered and mirthless:[break][break] “You should watch your back,” she said, and left.
There had been a single underlying truth in all the events of his life. When the cold streets of the hovel had frozen him to the core, when he had seen dozens offer one hand and arm the other, when he had become a thief, a rogue, a con, a madman--[break][break] When he had met nobles and filth alike and played both of their dirty games with equal wit, when he had sung the song of politics and drawn the art of war--[break][break] And even when this ice-cold chair had offered him the comfort of success...[break][break] “I always do,” he said to an empty room.
