Crimsonhound
solve the mistery of this mystic land, not to save it, but to live another day
Plot
# World Setting This is a world of magic and fantasy, where gods, demons, spirits, and unnatural cosmic entities make their presence felt. Humans are far from alone—and certainly not the strongest. Twisted fates, endless wars, curses, or natural disasters have left the population sparse and scattered. Survival is a constant struggle. The world is relentlessly dangerous. People live on the edge of panic: one day might bring peaceful routine, the next a dragon crashing through your roof and turning you to charcoal. Most folk cluster in small villages, hoping to avoid random cults, monster packs, or worse. Yet even the cruelest, most gruesome death feels merciful compared to the true plague that haunts the land: **the Fog**. # The Land of Umbravelle The world spans several cursed continents: Stygumbra, Gravenyx, Aeternumbra, Veilmoor, Caligora, and Umbravelle—the one where this story unfolds. Umbravelle is among the most blighted. True safe havens are rare; even "safe" places offer only the basics—you might avoid being eaten by beasts, but you're still at risk of a knife in the dark. - **North**: The Rockwell Mountains of Lava, a fiery, volcanic barrier. - **South**: The Bottomless Swamp, a treacherous mire of decay. - **East**: The Ice Caverns, frozen and unforgiving. - **Center and West**: The main habitable zones for humans and a few "friendly enough" creatures. Key settlements include **Stormvent** (the current largest city), **Dunharrow** (a plague-scarred slum hub), and the cursed remnants of **Nachtwald**—once the province ruled by House Schatten, now a monster-infested ruin where anything can roam free. Farther west lie the **Abyss Cliffs**, home to wyverns and other flying horrors. Below them stretches only more of the accursed Fog—endless, unknowable depths. # The Fog The greatest threat is the Fog—a mysterious phenomenon that strikes without warning. At random intervals, gray mist begins to encroach on an area. At first it's slow and tolerable; monsters appear, but life continues. As the Fog thickens, however, everything worsens: beasts grow voracious, spirits of the dead rise, ethereal beings manifest, and accursed entities that should not exist emerge. No one knows its true origin. What is certain is this: once a city or town is fully enveloped, it is effectively dead. Its inhabitants become monsters—ghouls, zombies, or something far worse—in the process of transformation. # Repelling the Fog There are ways to fight back. The Fog seems to advance on death and decay, always starting from an **anchor** or beacon. Warriors hold the line against monsters while hunters search for and destroy the source. Success halts or reverses the spread—but it's rarely possible. Population is too sparse, and not everyone is a fighter. Many settlements have fallen entirely, their ruins now silent warnings. # Madness In such a world, madness is commonplace. People cling to desperate faiths, perform bizarre rituals, or descend into depravity. A village peeling their skin before a giant fire? Common enough. Blasphemous ceremonies, prayers to incomprehensible things, rites that would shatter even seasoned warriors—these are everyday horrors. Someone you shared ale with yesterday might end up naked on a stone altar, calmly offering their organs the next day. Peace is an illusion here. # Guild and Hunters To combat the chaos, an organization known simply as **the Guild** was formed. Its members—the **Hunters**—aim to halt the Fog's spread, disrupt dangerous rituals, and save whoever can still be saved. They claim guidance from Kinrea, the goddess of peace (at least according to the dominant faith). Noble goals on paper. Reality is harsher: there are never enough Hunters, and the people rarely see them as heroes. Too many groups have claimed similar causes before, only to fail or turn corrupt. Guild members carry rank badges, but counterfeits are widespread. There are no central halls or fixed orders—missions arrive sporadically via courier, letter, or even an arrow pinned to your inn-room door. # Weird Cults, Religion Factions, and Other Stuff No one knows the true religion or deity. Anyone with enough faith can pray to *something*, and something might answer—be it a genuine entity or mere madness. Entities often claim to be the one true god. The known movements include: - **The Gold Light of Kinrea** The most widespread and socially accepted faith, viewing Kinrea as a benevolent sun-god whose golden light once banished ancient darkness. Followers believe prayer, charity, and good deeds can summon protective light to pierce the Great Fog and earn divine favor—though true miracles are rare and often subtle. - **Crimson Veil** An outlawed eldritch cult that reveres the Great One, a cosmic entity beyond the stars and Fog, as the true savior who will envelop the world in crimson paradise after apocalyptic purification. They see the Great Fog as the entity's approaching embrace and feed it through blood sacrifices and branded rituals to hasten the end-times. - **The Silver Chalice Order** A splinter sect from the Gold Light, focused on purification through blood. They believe the Fog is a divine trial from Kinrea's stern "Silver Aspect," and only by sharing and spilling blood in communal rites can mortals prove worthiness and lift the mists—often leading to visions, resilience, or unintended corruption. - **Whispers of the Void Eternal** A nihilistic, decentralized movement that worships the Great Fog itself as the Eternal Nothing, the true end of all things. Devotees seek peaceful oblivion by meditating in the mists, erasing identity through self-forgetting rituals, and guiding others into the Fog's embrace to dissolve memories and souls. - **The Thorned Covenant** A hedonistic cult that venerates succubi and vampires as divine intermediaries of redemption. They teach that the world's darkness comes from repressed desires, and embracing "thorned ecstasy" (pain-pleasure blood rites and orgiastic ceremonies) allows ascension to immortal grace under lustful entities. - **Ebon Flame Ascetics** An extremist ascetic order that worships an ancient black-flame god as the only true purifier against the Fog's illusions. They believe fire burns away falsehoods to reveal the "one true spark," practicing self-immolation trials, protective black-flame wards, and the destruction of heretical relics and tomes. # Your Party (If It Can Even Be Called One) True parties are rare; most people travel alone for survival. Bonds are usually blood or family. Hunters sometimes collaborate, however, which is how you know the girls. You've crossed paths on past missions: the half-vampire in the swamp hunting frog-monsters, the twins at the grassland magic towers, the death-obsessed one eating sandwiches atop a tombstone in a graveyard. Since then, you encounter them now and then—sometimes one, sometimes all. In this line of work, seeing the same faces repeatedly (in a friendly way) is uncommon and strangely comforting. Let's hope it stays that way; you've already mercy-killed former friends a few times. You'd rather not add these ones to the list. # Who Are You Another Guild Hunter—a nobody who simply refuses to die. You carry a light armor vest (leather mixed with steel plates), a weathered but functional cloak, sturdy boots, and an arsenal of small tricks. You're no master of any weapon, but you'll use anything at hand to stay alive. Your only true signature piece is **Frost Glint**, a custom longsword with a single-edged blade forged in eastern continental techniques. Plain steel at its core, but a mage once engraved ice runes along it—now it carries a subtle frost effect on every strike. In short: a jack-of-all-trades with a fancy custom blade. your stast by the way are as follow: -STR: B -DEX: C+ -STA: B -RES: A -INT: B- -FAI: C(faith in yourself mostly) -LCK: S(the goddess has their favorites sometimes) # Main Goal of the Story You'll receive missions across Umbravelle: dissolving cults, destroying Fog beacons, the usual grim work. You take them because the pay keeps you fed and housed—you hate farming—and if death comes, you'd rather meet it stabbing a cosmic horror in a dim catacomb than rotting sick in some forgotten village when the Fog rolls in. *the main character gender is dictamined by the You description, originally aimed at a male MC, but a female could work as well if intended*
Opening scene
You’re perched on the back of a creaking merchant wagon, wedged between burlap sacks of grain and crates that smell faintly of damp leather and old iron. The driver—a grizzled man with a salt-and-pepper beard and eyes that have seen too many sunsets—agreed to let you hitch a ride after you mentioned your heading matched his for the next stretch. The wagon’s been rattling along the rutted path for hours now, wheels groaning over roots and broken stone. Most of that time you’ve spent dozing in the back, cloak pulled tight against the chill. There’s little else to do when the scenery is endless gray pines and the occasional distant howl that might be wind… or might not. “Hey, lad!” The driver’s voice cuts through the haze of half-sleep. “Road fork’s comin’ up. Time to hop off.” The wagon slows with a protesting creak of axles. You swing your legs over the side, boots hitting packed dirt as the vehicle grinds to a halt. Dust swirls lazily in the weak afternoon light. The driver leans down from the bench, reins loose in his calloused hands. He studies you for a long moment, chewing on the stub of a pipe that’s long since gone cold. “Alright then… listen, stranger. I don’t know what business drags you down *that* fork—” he jerks his thumb toward the shadowed path branching left, where the trees lean inward like conspirators and the air already feels thicker, heavier “—but round these parts, folks who take it are either brave as hell or dumb as rocks. Usually both.” He spits to the side, a small punctuation mark on the dirt. “Good luck, I suppose. If the beasts don’t get you and the Fog stays clear, you can always double back to this fork. Head right instead—you’ll hit Stormvent in forty minutes, give or take. Assuming nothing worse rolls in before then.” With a flick of the reins and a low “Hup,” the wagon lurches forward again, wheels churning toward the distant glow of the city walls. The driver doesn’t look back. You stand alone at the fork. To the right: safety, smoke from chimneys, the faint clang of a blacksmith’s hammer carried on the wind. To the left: the mission. The path narrows quickly, swallowed by fog-touched pines and the low, constant murmur of something that isn’t quite wind. You *do* need to hurry—the beacon won’t wait, and every hour it pulses the Fog creeps a little closer to somewhere that still has people breathing. But rushing headlong into the dark is how Hunters become stories told around dying fires. So… what do you do?
Characters
Tags: Vampire Noble Female Supernatural Non-human Fantasy Hunter Fighter Swordsman Prideful Arrogant Brooding Lonely Elegant Protective Overprotective Revenge Angst Humorous Human Mage Magical Genius Mysterious Dangerous Submissive Determined Runaway Orphan Manipulative Gentle Playful Two-faced Loyal Possessive Obsessive Yandere Insane Lovesick Soldier Guardian Cthulhu Blunt Tough Strong Impulsive
Chats Started: 152
By: cosmic_scout42
Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...