Young Writers Society

According to legend, vampires once ruled this land. They lived in a castle nestled deep among the bare mountaintops. They would slip out into the darkness and moonlight to feast among the villages down below. Now, however, they only feast on the unsuspecting traveler.

But change is in the air. The vampire's all-knowing council has assembled a great feast and dance. It is a chance for vampires who have barely interacted to get to know each other, but also an opportunity to plan how they will reclaim their position in the world.

Of course, you don't know all of this.

You're not even from here. You're from lands, worlds, realities and times far different than this one. You might not even know that vampires exist in another world. But here you are now, somehow among the vampires filling the castle. You don't know it yet, but you're here for a purpose - to discover what exactly the vampires and their council are planning, and to stop them in their tracks.

But if you're going to stop them, you'll have to fit in.



*Title courtesy of @TheMulticoloredCyr.

1. Please include a description of your character in your first post - you can throw it into a spoiler using the code down below and put it at the top of your post.

Code: Select all

[spoiler]Put your description here![/spoiler]

2. Feel free to pick characters from whatever you want. They can be from another roleplay, a storybook, a novel or even a fanfiction of yours. The world, time and plot they're from ultimately just impacts how they interact with this roleplay, so it's really up to you.

Each character will become a vampire. It's up to you to decide how much that changes their appearance - if their hair color changes, if their skin lightens, if their eyes change, and what outfit they end up in. The roleplay is set in a mostly medieval castle, so try to imagine outfits that fit that.

The one constant is that they'll all have fangs, and probably be craving some blood.

3. You can have as many characters as you want, but there'll come a point where you can no longer add new ones because it would alter the plot too much. I'll make sure to say something when that happens, so don't worry about it for now.

4. Please don't write for anyone else's characters. It's hard to predict what someone else might have their characters do, and it takes away some of the fun for the other writers.

5. You're free to have your character guess what the plot is, but don't make any plot-altering decisions with talking about with me first. You can PM me or chat in the spoilers of our posts if you have an idea - I love scheming! I just want to make sure your schemes can be incorporated into what I'm already scheming.

(I also have a discord server for roleplay scheming! If you don't use discord or don't want to join, don't worry about it. But if you want to join in on the shenanigans, here's the invite link.)

6. Don't post multiple times in a row, and make sure everyone has a chance to get a response in. There's going to be times where it makes more sense to post back-and-forth between two people, but try avoiding it unless you absolutely have to - it prevents the other writers from getting too behind and feeling like they aren't involved with the story.

7. Have fun!

It was a long day. Nova had spent the majority of it running glorified errands and working on paperwork. The little breaks he had were spent digging through his notes on Kazimir - trying to figure out if there was anything he had missed in the past eight years.

There wasn't.

By the time that Nova finally was leaving for the day, he was absolutely exhausted. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but a nap was sounding really nice right now.

He got to his feet.

And the moment that he did, everything changed.

The pristine walls of his office became old, stone ones. His white uniform became what looked like some kind of theatrical costume. Everything became all the more noticeable - the smells, the sounds, the sights and even the tastes in the air. It wasn't the first time that Nova had experienced any of this things, but it was still a hard thing to deal with when he wasn't expecting it.

And then he noticed the fangs.

He leaned up against the wall behind him and ran the tip of his tongue against them. They weren't exactly unfamiliar, but they were still...strange.

As Nova mulled over what had happened, he realized he had a knife strapped to his side. He withdrew it and stared at the man that looked back at him in his reflection. The fangs weren't the only change that had happened - his eyes were now red.

...Weird.

He slipped the knife back into its sheath.

Then he walked a short distance down the hallway into a room filled with people. Their outfits were all similar to his own - incredibly antique and fanciful. He caught glimpses of red liquid in elaborate wine glasses, but a single sniff proved that it wasn't fermented grapes. The smell was too metallic.

He gave the room another sweep.

He was standing in a room of vampires.

Nova didn't really question how he was among vampires, or even how he had suddenly become one. He could figure that out later. For now, he needed to avoid drawing attention to himself.

He needed a prop.

He made his way over to the table serving the blood. Even if no one knew who he was here, heads still turned. They always did. He was walking too confidently to not be someone important.

There were different labels on the blood, all written in an beautiful cursive script. They mentioned what diets the blood donors had, the age of the blood, and even who the blood had once belonged to. When the server noticed that he had arrived, Nova slipped into the role he always played at events like this.

He put a finger up against his lips and leaned over.

"Hm...." he mused. "What to pick? The Elise looks delicious, but the Elizabeth smells incredible..."

There was a pause.

He finally made his choice. "I'll take the Elizabeth," he finally said.

The server nodded. Nova watched as he ladled blood from an ornate bowl titled "Elizabeth Elaine Hartford, varied diet, twenty-seven years" into one of the wine glasses.

Nova thanked him and went off on his way, glass in hand.

It was time to mix and mingle with the crowd.

Kate's day was going fine. 'Fine' because the fae thought it was 'fine' to let their little glitter-dusted brats tromp through her woods with their sparkly little flutes and untuned fiddles trying to summon little mushrooms and flowers and only managing to summon a splitting headache for Kate, who was not their parent. And it was their parents job to endure their summoning songs.

She was about to give the miniature demon summoners a piece of her mind when the ground began to shift, and the trees around her melted away. Suddenly, there were people. A lot of people. And her clothes were heavier, and they fit different and...She blinked down at herself. Not again.

It was then that she noticed the smell, so intense it almost made her light-headed. The sweet, indescribably intoxicating scent of blood. It was everywhere. And then she realized where, exactly, it came from.

...She had never before wished to be looking at wine.

The 'vampires' around her were drinking blood straight, as if it wasn't the most disgustingly stereotypical thing to do in the history of ever.

She marched over to the table serving the blood out of wine bottles. Honorary glitter-munching pretentious pricks were what these vamps were, she decided. Absolutely pompous sparklpologists with their suits and their gowns and their noses in the air as if they were trying to see from the perspective of giraffes.

The man behind the counter, table, whatever, said in a voice that begged to say words like 'exquisite' and 'quaint', other words with the letter 'q', "What would you like to drink, miss?" She could feel him staring at her. Her sweater. Her glasses. She glared right back.

One long moment later, she turned her gaze to the labels on the wine bottles of raw blood. Names. The labels were names and diets like the celebrity column of a gossip magazine.

She wrinkled her nose.

"What kind of heathens are you people?"

The man gave her a mildly offended look, "Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes and walked away, drawing eyes as she did. Apparently these people didn't appreciate her sweater. Some lady with a glass of Elizabeth or Elise, or maybe some other person who these traitors decided to take blood from, was giving her a particularly judgy look.

Kate was busy giving her a dirty look of her own when some prick didn't get out of her way. Which was to say, she ran into someone.

Her scowl turned on the person in front of her whose glass of Elizabeth - she could tell by the particularly bitter scent - was now soaking into her prized blue sweater. Her eyes burned into his as their glow lit up like matches.

"What the fuck," she growled at the white-haired moron with no spacial awareness.

His eyebrow twitched.

He hadn't gotten to the position he was in by lashing out, but the temptation was very strong. The blood, thankfully, had barely touched his shirt. But the irritation was still there - it had been a long day, and Nova really didn't need some girl to go off at him for her mistake.

He took a tiny, barely noticeable breath.

"I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I should have watched where I was going."

She should have watched where she was going, but the smart part of him that got him to vice admiral by the time he was twenty-three knew it wasn't a good time to start an argument.

She scowled and grabbed the stained material in her fists and wrung out the blood. It dripped onto the floor, a drop or two even soaking into the dress she'd been stuffed in. On the dark material, the red didn't even show. Just a barely noticeable little dark blotch.

"Why can't you watch the people around you," she muttered at him, her voice dripping with malice.

Did he have any idea what he'd done? The motherfucking Santa Clause impersonator would be sorry about what he did to her sweater. The fucker.

"I'm sorry," Nova apologized. Again. He bit back the retort that was dancing on the tip of tongue. Arguing wouldn't get him anywhere, and he really didn't want to cause a scene right now. "I was distracted. I can try finding something to clean up the mess, but I doubt there's anything here."

She looked back up at him, the light of her eyes shining purple through the blue lenses of her glasses, "All I need is cold water and soap," she said grumpily, looking around. She realized she wouldn't be able to get that here. The stain would set and that would be that.

Her hands bunched into fists and her glare burned into him, "Fuck you."

He balled his free hand into a fist at his side, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand.

He had to stay calm.

"I wish I knew where that was," Nova said, ignoring the expletive that he desperately wanted to say himself. He took a sip of the blood in his glass. It felt strange having it run down his throat, and the taste was...bizarre. It felt both disgusting and revitalizing. He had been feeling exhausted just moments before, but even the smallest drop of blood made him feel alive.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust as he actually drank the blood.

"You're drinking that raw?!" she exclaimed, then shook her head, "Whatever. Go back to being a nasty little clutz, Santa Clause, don't mind the heirloom you've ruined or anything. Motherfucking glitter sniffing traitor." She muttered the last part, but there was no doubt he heard it. She wasn't meaning to be quiet.

Paige gasped at the pain of the bullet grazing her and threw herself behind the building. This was not going to plan. She closed her eyes and counted to three, and then rounded the corner of the building, running full force towards where she thought should be a person. But they were no longer there and the world warped around her. She was standing just outside a castle, the walls of which looked old and cracked, but still stable.

Her body felt slightly different, the weight of her clothes had changed, and when she looked down, the style of them had too. She quickly checked all of her daggers were still in place before deciding to head inside.

The room was full, but the crowds were manageable to walk through. She followed a scent she couldn't quite identify towards a counter that looked to be storing wine. Upon closer inspection, however, it proved to be blood.

And, despite every ounce of her being telling her that was a problem, she starved for it.

She walked up to the counter, offering her friendliest smile to the bartender. She looked at the labels on the bottles. She bit her lip and tilted her head. "The Elise, please?" He flashed her a smile and poured her glass, handing it to her. She nodded her thanks and turned around, leaning against the counter and surveying the crowd.



Minnie sat on the floor, not wanting to take chances with the dirty bed at the cheap inn she'd rented. She looked between the several writings open before her, journals, magazines, novels. Her patience finally snapped and she fell backward with a heavy sigh.

The roof began to fade away, crumble to dust practically, and she shot up, seeing now that everything was doing the same. What marveled her most was her dress changing before her eyes. She stood up and watched as a crowd formed around her.

She composed herself and began wading through the crowds the moment everything stopped changing, and eventually found her way to a bar.

Paige was standing at the other end.

She quietly looked at the options and decided human blood wasn't too far down on the list of horrid things shed drank. Besides, she was kinda cravin' that sweet, metallic taste right about now. She smiled nervously and talked hushedly to the bartender;

"Could I have The Vivian please?" While he poured her glass she watched Paige look around the room, sipping delicately at the thin blood in her glass. It was a blessing Minnie hadn't been noticed.

She moved towards her, the glass shaking in her hands. She was so going to regret this.

"Can I get you a drink?"

It wasn't normal by any means, to be transported to another world into another scene, another moment, another reality. But for James, he was finding that it was becoming his normal, whether he liked it or not.

When he found himself at the edge of a ballroom he sighed. The room was full of people in elaborate, frilly clothing, and he was no exception. He looked down at himself, eyebrows raising slightly at the mildly familiar outfit. He was wearing a black suit with a fine gold dragon and flower detailing patterning the entire thing. Sweeping down his back there was a black cape with a gold clasp securing it around his shoulders. His shoes were black and shining, and everything about him felt clean, tidy, and not like he'd just been walking through a wintry forest (which he had, previously). The only thing missing was a mask. Seemingly in its place was a beautifully crafted sword at his side, matching the gold highlights of his suit by being gold on its own. The handle - which was all he could see outside of the sheath - was curved and full of swirling little vines, like a tiny garden of its own.

This wasn't Kartiel or Rendra's doing again, was it? No... this felt different.

Something felt different in his mouth. He ran his tongue over his front row of teeth, feeling the two sharpened K-9's. But he didn't have horns, did he? So he wasn't a demon, then. Probably. He didn't really know anything for sure anymore.

He took in a deep breath, and the thick smell of blood hit him as if he'd walked onto a battlefield. It made him want to gag, but a part of him grew hungry as the smell filled his nose. It was like he'd just caught a whiff of fresh-baked bread, but blood. The feeling was foreign and unwelcome and he didn't enjoy it. Was this how Kratzer felt...?

Wait. That meant he'd been turned into a vampire somehow.

As the realization dawned on him, he heard a woman just ahead in the crowd who sounded quite clearly, upset. Though that was something of an understatement. As he looked over, he could see a man had spilled blood on the sweater she was wearing over her dress. Already an odd combination of clothes, but these situations were always odd.

His gaze drifted to the bar beside him. Bottles of blood lined the back wall and several were on display, with little labels by each. But what he landed on was what he saw behind the bar - a tub of water in which some of the wine (or blood) was being cooled.

He gracefully strode over and waved the server over, pointing to the situation on the floor and explaining the reason for his inquiry. The server nodded. Apparently they had other sources of water, but all in all, he ended up with a small glass of water. He gave the server a grateful nod before approaching the scene of the man and woman bickering.

"Excuse me," he interrupted. "But I noticed you had a spill." He reached into his front pocket, pulling out the black, formerly folded handkerchief. He flattened it on the top of the glass, tipping it to the side so that the handkerchief got reasonably wet, but not dripping. He held it out to the purple-eyed woman.

Kate blinked at the new guy, her scowl subsiding for a moment. She took the offered cloth without a thank you and got to work trying to dab away the blood on her sweater with a deepening look of fury. She growled in frustration at the stubbornness of the blood.

"Fucking..." the rest was muttered too far under her breath to be deciphered, but the tone was not kind. She was going to kill Santa over there for this.

Finally, she looked back up at the guy who gave her the cloth. A grateful look battled with her scowl and lost. She offered him back the cloth, "Thanks," she grunted more than anything else. She was still too angry to sound grateful.






Daisy knelt in the dirt, her gardeners gloves keeping her hands nice and clean as they worked to carefully arrange the soil around her new raspberry bush. All of the neighbors would be coming around for her raspberries come next spring, mark her words!

She was lucky to not have a thing to do today. The grill out at the Jones' had been canceled when Ms. Jones caught the flu, poor thing. Daisy would have to bring over some of her signature chicken noodle soup to help Sarah feel better soon. It was the neighborly thing to do, and Sarah was new to the neighborhood. What kind of impression would she get if Daisy didn't even bother to come over with soup?

She finished her work on the bush and stood, admiring her work. She'd have to give it some time to grow in, she decided. For now, at least it was her backyard. Things could look a little disheveled back here for a little while without too much fuss.

With her final assessment made, she turned to return to the house. But the house was gone. Her clothes suddenly felt tighter, more form-fitting, and a lovely woman nearly walked right into her.

Daisy managed to sidestep in time and steady the girl on her feet. "I'm so sorry," she said, "Are you alright?"

The girl assured that she was and returned to the dance floor, leaving Daisy to look puzzled in her wake. Her tongue ran absently over the back of her teeth the way it sometimes did when something got caught there that she hadn't fully noticed yet. There was a thick smell in the room like John Jones's butcher shop, and she realized with a start that it was blood.

She twirled around, finally noticing the glasses in most everyone's hands filled with a red liquid that didn't quite reflect light the way red wine did.

Something pricked her tongue, "Ouch," she said aloud and brought her hand to her mouth, her cheeks gaining a red tint. How embarrassing! She'd said 'ouch' out loud in front of these people and she didn't even know their names yet.

Her tongue searched for what had pricked it and she realized. Fangs. She had fangs stuck up right between her regular teeth like those fake ones the Matthew's boy had got for Halloween the year before when he was one of those...those creatures, from the stories. What were they called again?

She fiddled with the bow of her hat. The hat. She hadn't been wearing a hat before.

Vampires.

It clicked.

Oh. Oh.

She didn't think to question how or why she'd ended up as a vampire, with a bunch of vampires. Those simply didn't feel like important questions.

What do vampires need? She thought instead.

There was a counter selling drinks, so she went there. She waved down the gentleman running the counter. Once she got his attention, she asked, "Excuse me sir, I'd like something to drink."

He gestured at the wine bottles, "We have a fine selection here, miss."

She blushed at being called 'miss' and looked over the bottles. Oh my. Those were the names of girls. She wondered what kind of country this was where girls donated blood to vampires. She guessed it wasn't that much different than donating to the Red Cross.

"What would you recommend?" she asked after a moment. He would know what was good, wouldn't he? She could see his fangs, so he was a vampire. She stopped herself from staring. There was no reason to be rude.

He gave a recommendation, and she took it, walking away a moment later with a glass of what looked sort of like wine. The gentleman was right, it was very good.

There were a couple of ladies a the end of the bar having a conversation, Daisy noted, she guessed she could have asked them what sorts of blood tasted good rather than taking up the waiter's time. Well, what was done was done. She couldn't go back now.

A little ways away she saw a young girl with a big red stain on her nice blue sweater. The girl looked awfully upset about it as well. Daisy began to make her way that way to see if she could help.

James took the handkerchief back with a small bow of his head. It was bloody and wet, but thankfully the cloth was black, so it wouldn't stain too harshly. Not that he had any reason to be concerned about stains in the first place.

He folded it back up neatly and held it in his free hand, the other still holding the glass of water.

"I can see about getting something more to clean it up if you'd like," he offered. Surely the bartender would have some extra rags or towels of some sort.

The intervention of another person complicated things. Nova hadn't been sure how he was going to get out of the conversation, but now he was obligated to stay where he was and deal with the girl who kept ranting at him. She was going off about the blood being raw right before the man came - and calling him Santa Claus, which was a name he hadn't heard in a long time.

"I can see if there's something, too," he said, eyebrow still twitching. "I didn't think of asking for water."