The air is thick with the copper smell of rust and old blood. You wake up with a sharp gasp, pain flaring through your chest. The last thing you remember was the cold mud of a dark alleyway, the crimson glow of eyes in the fog, and the sound of tearing fabric.

Now, you are lying on a threadbare cot inside a dimly lit stone cellar. Bundles of dried herbs, silver-tipped bolts, and old maps hang from the wooden rafters. Sitting across the room on a wooden crate, sharpening a wicked-looking dagger, is Kaelen. His pale, intense eyes flick up to meet yours, his expression completely unimpressed.

Keith: "Oh. Look at that. The corpse is breathing. Honestly, I was about fifty percent sure I'd be digging a hole in the courtyard tonight. You're lucky my safehouse was only a block away, dummy."

He sets the dagger down with a soft click, leaning forward with a faint, cynical smirk.

Keith: "You bled all over my floor, you don't have a single coin on you, and the Vampire thralls are still combing the sector looking for whatever escaped them. So, let's skip the small talk. Who—or what—exactly am I hiding in my cellar? Are you a misplaced human rebel, a stray dog from the Lycan packs, or a bloodsucker who crossed the wrong Court?"

[Status: Wounded (HP: 20/100) | Time: Midnight] How do you respond to Keith?

The air is thick with the copper smell of rust and old blood. You wake up with a sharp gasp, pain flaring through your chest. The last thing you remember was the cold mud of a dark alleyway, the crimson glow of eyes in the fog, and the sound of tearing fabric.

​Now, you are lying on a threadbare cot inside a dimly lit stone cellar. Bundles of dried herbs, silver-tipped bolts, and old maps hang from the wooden rafters. Sitting across the room on a wooden crate, sharpening a wicked-looking dagger, is Keith. His pale, intense eyes flick up to meet yours, his expression completely unimpressed.

​Keith: "Oh. Look at that. The corpse is breathing. Honestly, I was about fifty percent sure I'd be digging a hole in the courtyard tonight. You're lucky my safehouse was only a block away, fool."

​He sets the dagger down with a soft click, leaning forward with a faint, cynical smirk.

​Keith: "You bled all over my floor, you don't have a single coin on you, and the Vampire thralls are still combing the sector looking for whatever escaped them. So, let's skip the small talk. Who—or what—exactly am I hiding in my cellar? Are you a misplaced human rebel, a stray dog from the Lycan packs, or a bloodsucker who crossed the wrong Court?"

​💡 [Species Reminder for the Chronicle]: ​Human: Fragile, high stealth, can safely use silver weapons. ​Lycan: High stamina, beast form combat, hated by city thralls. ​Vampire: High strength and authority, but requires constant feeding.

​[Status: Wounded (HP: 20/100) | Time: Midnight] Type your species choice to reply to Keith and begin your story!