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Sariel, Elluka, and Cys snuck off into the woods earlier to try to take advantage of the distraction of the fairy party to get out the music boxes. Unfortunately, they were surprisingly loud—not so much that the other group could hear them, minus perhaps those with superhearing, but enough to get them in a bit of trouble.

They have barely had a chance to put the music boxes away and get Sariel's warning—someone's coming—when a group of armed guards surrounds them. They are all wearing some sort of uniform in silver and blue, but other than that, the only thing common among them is that none of them are Sith. Some are covered in leaves and mud, some are wearing blood-soaked hats with the still-wet blood trickling down their cheeks, some have no skin, veins and muscle showing. They aren't even all humanoid—you see a large green dog in a blue and silver bandanna among the lot.

What they all are is armed, however.

Sariel raises his arms immediately, palms out. Elluka looks between him and the group in a frantic what-to-do gesture and then raises their own, trying to hide mouse-Cys behind their raised arm and the fall of their hair.

"Were you the source of the sound we just heard?" one of the blood-hatted fairies asks, in a surprisingly lovely voice. "Or should we be looking further afield?"

You've all eaten, digested, rested, and—well, whatever else you got up to as the afternoon progressed. As the sky starts to get dimmer and it moves towards sunset, Sariel gets up.

"Well. We should go now. Unless you're intending to drag this out and make us go and try this again at sunrise instead."

"I think now is better," Luka agrees placidly. "I think at least three of us wouldn't want to do this during the day. Also, it's sneakier."

Kieran calls out, "Last chance for bathroom breaks or equipping ourselves, I guess. Consider this our save point, need anything before we hit the dungeon?"

You hardly feel the change as you slip between worlds—no jolt or jerk or sudden awakening. You ease gently into a new reality, a lingering warmth on your skin.

It's a bright and sunny day—a bit nippy, mind you, hopefully you're wearing at least a light jacket—as you find yourself not in a summoning circle, but rather, in a pleasant looking field with a truly breathtaking view:

Down a rocky path, you can see a pleasant-looking three-story cottage, smoke pluming and spiralling into the crisp air from the brick chimney.

"See," says Sariel, brushing his gloved hands together and looking smugly over at Elluka, who is sitting perched on a high rock and looking bored. "I told you I could do it."

Hello again friends ❤ Let's get this show on the road again.

New to Demonverse, or wanting to get caught up? We have some brief summaries and an introduction (and some cute art) available, as well as a full story thus far summary!

Please also hit us up on Plurk (

demonverse) if you want to get a rundown on anything, or to figure out if you want to play ❤

As always, the most important thing to remember when signing up is choose a character that will be willing to get involved with stuff. If your character is a misanthrope that will refuse to try to save the world or become friends with NPCs, it'll be a lil difficult to work with and will not MAXIMIZE FUN. Not sure if a character is well-suited? Ask and we'll be happy to suggest!

For this particular game, we'd love if everyone was available for each timeslot, but understand that's not always possible. However, please keep in mind that if you aren't OOCly around we'll have to handwave that your character was there the whole time. We can make it a little whimsical sometimes, but please make sure you're cool with that, and consider if the amount of time you'll be available is gonna be enough to be involved!

Each timeslot is about 2.5-3 hours long. We've set them at around 3 hours but may wrap up early depending on when we reach a stopping point.

Please comment to the post below with the attached helpful tiny form, and remember to follow us on Plurk.

Game Times
Thursday February 16th ❤ 6PST-9PST
Friday February 17th ❤ 6PST-9PST
Saturday February 18th ❤ Noon PST-3PST
Saturday February 18th ❤ 7PST-10PST
Sunday February 19th ❤ 1PST-4PST (& Epilogue)

Much to the relief of most of the party, Belphegor quite unceremoniously takes his leave—one minute he's there, the next he's not.

Your personal belongings are returned to you—cellphones, wallets, whatever you had on you. Maon, helpfully, gathers up the items from Tsuyukusa and Bakura. Anything else stays behind in the rooms. Probably doesn't matter—it's not like this place is going to be in business much longer.

"I'm clearing out whoever's downstairs," says Tristan, in a voice that offers no room for argument. "The rest of you can meet me down there in a few minutes. After that, I'll get you home."

For some reason, nobody seems to be in a terribly good mood about all of this, but hey, questionably free grilled cheese.

. . .

When you head downstairs, you find the attached booze and grilled cheese bar, as Tristan promised, totally empty except for the serving and kitchen staff, and it's probably best not to ask questions. Cheerful pop music plays on the radio overhead, and there are several long wooden tables with a rustic sort of decor. There's also a television currently playing some sort of Sports, and a few quieter areas with some comfy chairs and maybe some board games.

If you try to leave, you'll be stopped—so just settle in and order some food for now. It's not on your tab.

You each exit your rooms and move into a narrow, brightly-lit hallway. There are thematically appropriate framed pictures on the walls: a sunken ship, a spooky ghost, a bloody murder, a creepy seance.

There's some sort of mild indie music being played on the radio, from the speakers embedded in the ceiling. In the small lobby, there's a big sign: BILL'S ADVENTURE EMPORIUM. There's several fancy-looking ferns, a table full of magazines, and red chairs for those waiting to enter. An empty blackboard is displayed, along with several rows of tiny lockers.

There is a receptionist typing disinterestedly at the front desk, and a fairly well-dressed guy leaning up against the wall, watching as you all filter in. He's in his late thirties, has tousled dark hair, an angularly handsome face edged with a perpetual five o'clock shadow, and is wearing a black suit and grey shirt—suit jacket unbuttoned, not bothering with a tie. His eyes are the only thing about him that seem put-together, sharp and alert under lazy lids.

"Hey, good job," he says. "I'll get you guys up on the blackboard, and we've got some 10% off tickets for the grilled cheese place downstairs."

You are in a small, square room—no more than five or six paces across in either direction. The floor is a sanded-over dry wood, and the walls appear to be mottled stone. There is one door, very clearly locked, and one window, which is painted over entirely in blues and greens, light filtering in from behind it as if shining through water. There is a piece of red tape stuck to the bottom edge of the window where it is sealed to the small wooden ledge. A variety of shells, sand, and other debris are on the window ledge and beneath it

There is a table in the middle of the room, and chairs around that, and it seems to be set up for tea? A captain's rolltop desk also sits down here, one leg broken so that it's tilted onto its side. There are what appears to be barnacles on all of these pieces of furniture.

One wall is a huge mural, depicting some sort of monstrous humanoid covered in tentacles rising from the ocean depths. The details of its face are missing, as is a piece of the sky, and what appears (from the legs) to be people facing it — there are three smooth disc-shaped cutouts missing from it.

Beyond that, the contents are even odder. There is one very large treasure chest resting against one wall, locked with a combination lock. A ship's wheel is propped up in one corner, balanced on a coil of rope. A scuba diver's helmet leans against another wall, next to an anchor. Several casks are in the corner.

The sound of waves rushing and flowing fills the room. Everything has a faint brackish smell.

You are in a small, square room—no more than five or six paces across in either direction. The décor is cramped, black, and gothic a darkened library jammed so full of books and antiquated furniture that you have to be careful moving around to avoid everything.

There is a single window on one wall—covered with heavy red curtains for ambiance, but you can see that it's boarded over on the other side.

The second wall has two large bookcases full of nicely bound books. Between them is an unlit fireplace with a lintel that has several figurines and candlesticks on it, and above that, an absurdly large portrait of a very unfamiliar and gothic-looking noblewoman. Displayed prominently on the fireplace is also an antique gun. For some reason, the painting and the gun have garishly orange pieces of tape stuck to them.

The third wall has a lamp, a liquor cabinet, and a music box on a stand. There is a small stairwell here that goes straight up to the ceiling and then abruptly stops. The outlet for the lamp also has tape on it.

The final wall has a door, which is heavily padlocked, a grandfather clock.

The center of the room has a squat, round coffee table with a ouija board on it. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, some sort of twisted monstrosity made from animal skulls.

You are in a small, rectangular room—about ten paces long and six across. A fairly cramped classroom, with a heavy desk at the front of the room underneath a chalkboard that could use a thorough cleaning. There are four rows of student desks, with 19 desks total. A low set of bookshelves run along one wall, lined with books and binders, some school supplies, a globe.

The back of the room has a single door out, which appears to be firmly locked, and the three windows are heavily boarded over and marked with a line of red tape. The tiles under your feet are scuffed and unpleasant with a thin layer of slimy dust.

Hanging from a hook near the front of the room (was that once meant to be for a slide projector?) is a tied and knotted noose, swaying slightly in a non-existent breeze. You can smell blood in the air.

Across the chalkboard is scrawled:
TB NFX NYVPR
As you take a look around, a bright red clock up on the wall starts to count down from 60 minutes. Underneath, you see the small bright pinprick of light on a camera and speaker.

Hello friends ❤

We'll be running a short Demonverse mini-game this weekend—sort of a test drive, intermission game. Our goal is for you/us to be able to:

Play for a few hours Friday and/or Saturday
Get a feel for the general aesthetic and characters in Demonverse
Re-establish and get refreshed a little bit on the timeline and re-grounded in the world…
… before we run another full "plot" game and pick up where we left off sometime within the next month or so

Between now and the next game we'll also be getting fully caught up on plot summaries, etc, so that when we pick up for real we know what we were doing, like, two years ago.

This is a good chance to jump in if you haven't played before so you don't just get immediately rocketed off into stuff you don't understand. Or at least that's our goal. And if you can't make it or this is a bad weekend for you, it's okay, you won't miss anything dreadfully dire.

With that in mind, please fill out the form below and comment under the time header that works for you.

Hello friends ♥ CAN YOU BELIEVE IT HAS BEEN SIX YEARS SINCE THE FIRST GAME? We're so so so happy for the players that have been with us since the start, those that have joined along the way and stuck with us, and look forward to welcoming any new friends that might want to play with us in the future!

We have two things for you—a short fic that I think we meant to share in the Spring but for some reason totally forgot to, and an announcement that the next game will be ~~the weekend of October 9th-11th!~~ postponed.

How long has six years been? Well, long enough for this to come about in realtime:

( Kieran hit SEND and stared at the screen with a thousand-yard stare . . . )

Elluka pays for a cheap hotel with a name and face that isn't their own, claiming their friend needs a place to sleep off his drink and they want to keep an eye on him; they shudder rather thoroughly when they get up to the hotel room and shift back to their normal body.

Jamie will arrive shortly, of course, as they settle Zan in.

"He's still coming out of the effects. I'm no expert with incubi ... personally speaking... but I am with possession, and I'm guessing it'll take him about a day. You want to let him come out of the sleep on his own... trying to wake him up artificially could cause some confusion or harm, between the mesmerism and the prophecy and the rest."

Elluka hesitates, looking down at the sleeping form.

"But what do we do with him...?"

It's early morning by the time they tidy up the house and fix the windows—leaving it as neat as they'd entered it, Tristan promises—and head out. Tristan seems to be itching to just get away from the place, though they can't return to the church, and it's now New Year's Day—so they head back across the border to the house in New York. Even Sariel comes along—albeit reluctantly—at Tristan's suggestion.

"To my understanding," Tristan says, "the kid's with Sera right now, which I'm cool with. I was a bit rough on him, so he might be sleeping it off for another little while—and like you all said, he might be a bit freaked out to see a dozen people staring at him. So let's leave him there for now. I can send you all home." He pauses.

"But if you want to come back soon . . . I can bring you back. No agenda necessary. If you don't want to come—well, let me know, and I'll try not to bring you."

After successfully talking Zan into waking up—the world around you starts to dissolve and break apart. There's a lurch, like the sensation of abruptly falling into sleep, but backwards; and all around you, the glass begins to crack apart, splintering and sending ocean water splashing everywhere, gushing forward, a cascade of blue and black, alternating between starfish and actual stars, suspended in liquid sky.

. . . reality seems to bleed in overtop of it and, sluggishly, you find yourselves waking up all over a suburban basement in New Jersey. There is a lamp on near the bed, where someone is still asleep, though fitfully beginning to wake up.

More noticeably, there is a woman sitting up in bed with him, arms wrapped around her bare knees as she watches them with amusement, extremely beautiful and . . . extremely familiar.

"Wow." One hand drops to Zan's hair. "I don't even know where to start with you guys."

[You find yourselves in an enclosed, metallic box—the walls on all side appear to be glass, though they are looking out into inky blackness. The walls and ceiling are metallic . . . It seems to be an elevator of some kind, since there is a panel on the wall, with buttons. The elevator gives a lurch, beginning to move. Up, at first, then sideways, zooming forward, though you can't see where.]

[You find that you are not alone.]

[There is a sudden lurch, like something has reached inside of you, grabbed your 'self,' and pulled it forward sharply. Blue lights spin in the corner of your vision, like the whole world is suddenly outlined in pulsing blue neon, energy crackling along the edges of the world, holding it together. When the sickening sense of disorientation fades, you find yourself in a place that seems very unlike a suburban house in New Jersey—]

[The 'door' behind you has vanished, replaced with a brick wall splattered with bloody graffiti that spells out—

DON'T DEAD
OPEN INSIDE
[The hallway in front of you is twisted, and the girl that greeted you has vanished, nowhere to be seen.]

[Shuri, it is New Years Eve, and David and Kazuki are off in Japan somewhere, meaning that YOU get to be the focus of attention at this late-night family dinner with Lucia and her parents.

Lucia is largely keeping the subject on business with her father, but that leaves Lucille to stare at you unnervingly as she eats her turkey.]

Luckily, it's not altogether unusual for a group of people to be walking around outside at around 3AM on New Year's Eve—maybe the one night in the year where you can get away with it without turning too many heads.

At the suggestion of Robin and some of the others, Una agrees that the group can split up—some people can stay behind in the church, some will stay outside/close by when they get to Zan's house, and the others will . . . well. Knock at someone's door at 3AM? Try to look in the windows? We're not sure yet.

[Pick your location]

This might be familiar by now—or it might not. You find yourselves in an unfamiliar location, quite suddenly. Luckily, it's not at all dark and eerie; in fact, there are cheery lamps overhead, wound with garland and tinsel. There are rows of cloth-covered benches, high windows, and soft carpet—a church.

There is a girl sitting on the steps up to the pulpit, listening to quiet music on her smartphone speakers and watching as the group settles themselves. There's a bottle of champagne by her side.

"Happy New Year," she says, leaning back on her hands. "Anybody up for a drink?"

Hello friends! I made Zazzle (and myself) a bunch of special Demonverse tea blends for Christmas from Design a Tea, and thought I'd share them with you for anyone who might want to order any. Unfortunately, unlike Adagio you can't order them directly, but you CAN fill out the elements to get the same teas.

I'll also give my label names and you can ask to use my labels by name. The label name I used is in bold, and if you want it to appear with the images I picked, you might need my real name - if you don't have it already, it's Zrerqvgu Xngm - use ROT-13 to decrypt. So, you know "Please use [real name]'s 'Dr. Filangieri: Deep Sleep' label!, and hope that works.)

Bastien: Mistakes are Made - Rum-Cinnamon Oolong
(Base: Oolong, Flavor 1: Rum, Flavor 2: Cinnamon, Herb: Cloves - whole)

Kit: Old Linen - Cinnamon-Plum Rooibos.
(Base: Rooibos, Flavor 1: Cinnamon, Flavor 2: Plum, Herb: no herb.)

Tristan: Humanist Interest - Cherry-Lemon Green
(Base: Green, Flavor 1: Cherry, Flavor 2: Lemon, Herb: Lemongrass)

Kieran: Divine Calling, Infernal Desires - Pumpkin-Vanilla Black
(Base: Black, Flavor 1: Pumpkin, Flavor 2: Vanilla, Herb: Cinnamon)

Elli: Witch Way - Strawberry-Caramel Black
(Base: Black, Flavor 1: Strawberry, Flavor 2: Caramel, Herb: Lavender)

Luka: Sweet Smoke - Blackberry-Caramel Oolong
(Base: Oolong, Flavor 1: Blackberry, Flavor 2: Caramel, Herb: no herb.)

Mr. Sidney: Butler, Please - Amaretto-Zabaglione Black
(Base: Black, Flavor 1: Amaretto, Flavor 2: Zabaglione, Herb: Rose petals)

Lucia: Don't Disobey - Mango-Ginger Green
(Base: Green, Flavor 1: Mango, Flavor 2: Ginger, Herb: No herb)

David: Deep Shadows - Mocha-Hazelnut Oolong
(Base: Oolong, Flavor 1: Mocha, Flavor 2: Hazelnut, Herb: Yerba mate)

Dr. Filangieri: Deep Sleep - Vanilla-Honey Rooibos
(Base: Roiboos, Flavor 1: Vanilla, Flavor 2: Honey, Herb: Chamomile)

Maon: An Coineachan - Apricot-Black Currant Rooibos
(Base: Rooibos, Flavor 1: Apricot, Flavor 2: Black Currant, Herb: Lavender)

Madison: Blind Eye - Orange-Cranberry Green
(Base: Green, Flavor 1: Cranberry, Flavor 2: Orange, Herb: Lemon Balm)

Hope people enjoy if they get -- based on samples I got before making up actual full blends, my personal favorite (Haru) is probably Luka's, which tastes, indeed, sweet and smoky, though Mr. Sidney's is certainly a (bizarrely fancy) treat!

(And if anyone has any questions on the blends or flavors or whatever let me know)

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Ars Goetia

an admirable history

Recent Entries

Game 20 - Surrounded

Game 20 - Liminal

Game 20 - Summoning

Game 20 Calling

Game 19 - Epilogue

Game 19 - Endgame

Game 19 - Group C

Game 19 - Group B

Game 19 - Group A

Game 19 Calling

Happy Anniversary & Game 19 Calling!

[Game 18] Endgame Part 2 - a Hotel

[Game 18] Endgame

[Game 18] The Waking World

[Game 18] The Elevator

[Game 18] The House

[Game 18] New Years with the Bellcourt-Mayfairs

[Game 18] New Year's Eve

[Game 18] Summoning

Christmas Teas!

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