Thunder growled overhead, the entire valley blanketed in a deep indigo blue. Buildings so sparsely dotted that they were nothing but twinkling yellow stars in the distance. Farmland. The unending hiss of the rain beating down on a rusted metal roof drowned out most noise from within-certainly toward the neighbouring farms-but if one was to listen carefully with an ear to the closed wooden barn door, something could be made out. Faint at first, with spikes in volume seemingly matching the roars of thunder, as if the thunder itself was causing it. 

Wailing. Not just wailing, but desperate sobs, pleading and incantations uttered rhythmically. In total, five people; one woman, four men - two of which young. The pair of wooden barn doors crashed open with an aggressive gust from the storm. For but a second the scene was visible, the mother, children and a priest stood encircling the father on the ground, his limbs bound to ropes staked into the bare dirt, candles around them their only light source until snuffed out by the howling winds, plunging them into darkness. 

“The door!” cried the priest, diverging from his rhythmic chants. Without a second glance, the two teenagers rushed to close the broken barricade, wrapping a rope around the handles to keep them shut. Shaking hands rummaged around desperately to reignite the first candle, snapping the first match in the process, while the next only sparked briefly. 

“My darling, please,” a deep, dry voice pleaded from the darkness, causing the woman to hesitate upon striking the third match. 

“Light the candles, we must continue!” urged the priest. With a swift scratch of phosphorus on sandpaper, the third match lit, bathing the direct vicinity once more in a warm yellow glow, but the barn could not have been colder. Slowly, the woman relit the candles, but her eyes remained on her restrained husband. A pair of exhausted eyes peered back at her, it still looked like her husband; The lines crisscrossing his face from their many years together, the laughs and frowns they’d shared. The thick moustache masking his upper lip, not yet streaked with gray like his locks of hair. Unfamiliar was how sickly the man looked, pale and spattered with bile and blood. 

“This is nonsense my darling, I do not need a priest, I need a doctor,” the husband pleaded again from the ground, trying to adjust his hands as the ropes were cutting off the blood flow past his wrists and ankles. 

“Do not listen, that is not your husband speaking,” rebutted the priest. 

“That priest is a charlatan after our money, darling, he will not cure the blackouts or seizures,” insisted the bound man, eyes still locked upon his wife as she leaned down closer. “You know me better than anyone, please, untie me so we can find a hospital, I fear what will happen if I’m left untreated” begged the husband, leaning up the little he could toward his wife, leaving mere inches between them. A peaceful moment in the eye of the storm. “Please, Mi  Mariposa,” he uttered, causing her gaze to soften. The nickname he’d given her oh so long ago, when they were first dating. Something she hadn’t heard in many years, and something only he could possibly know 

Without a word, the woman began to untie the bound man’s right wrist and allowed him to hook it around her in a tight embrace. “No!” cried out the priest, the pair of eyes peering over her shoulder grew inky black, and a sinister grin spread across the father’s face as the candles extinguished themselves.

The warm twinkling of lights grew into an infernal blaze, one that not even the persistent ran could control. Starting at that barn and moving toward the family home. By the time anyone in the distant ends of the valley noticed, nothing could be saved. Blue flashing lights raced to the charred remains just as dawn approached. Though not even hardened emergency response units could predict what they’d find. The bodies were not blackened husks inside the buildings, but strewn about the farm. Decapitated, and put back together as some insult to the family and any that bear sight of the scene. Not just the family, but the animals of the property too, mixed and matched like a twisted game. All but the father, which was nowhere to be found.

H E R E T I C

The snake whispering to take the apple and turn one's back on righteousness.

Demons are fiercely protective of their names, for those that know their names hold power over them. Over time, the entity has been referred to by many titles, many of which amuse it.  

The Heretic | Demon | The Entity

The Abomination | Dark one

Cursed One | The Passenger

La Maldad | El Diablo | Pestilence

The demon has no gender, it has no physical being outside the underworld at all, only a host body it possesses. Currently, it inhabits a man in his late forties, though it has no particular preference.

The demon almost always appears to be in a pleasant mood; unnervingly so. Void of any sort of compassion, it wears that smile as it commits heinous acts as if it were all a game. It finds the pleading and threats of mortals amusing but trivial, it will never sway his heart - for it hasn’t one. It may take interest in particular individuals on occasion, sating the needs of its human host that bleeds into its own personality as it inhabits them, though it is best avoided. To be the demon’s focus never bodes well for anyone.

The initial possession can happen to almost anyone, the strength of their mind determines the symptoms they experience. The stronger the host, the more the demon will fight them, causing more and more suffering as time passes. Extremely strong-willed subjects will eventually die, unwilling to take on the demon, but by that time they will be too weak to recover. Symptoms come in waves, first experiencing fever, nosebleeds, headaches, and hearing the demon whispering to them. Second comes feinting, seizures, spasms, hallucinations, and occasional loss of control to the demon. The third, and final wave causes vomiting blood, severe burning pain across the body, widespread infection and eventually necrosis.

Side characters:

The Captain | The Doctor | The Investigator | The Priest | The Vessel

(Profiles are being worked on)

Main FC - Tony Dalton

OOC

Threads open

Multi-paragraph preferred.

Messages are preferred, but comments are acceptable.

I aim to reply at least weekly, usually away on weekends.

Strictly 18+, violence, horror and sexual themes may be present.

The character is a work of fiction and not a reflection of the writer. Do not get us confused.

The entity cannot be killed, but the host can, feel free to enact your sadistic desires upon him.

I enjoy plotting and swapping ideas, if you have an idea for our characters don't hesitate to reach out, even if we're already writing.