Name: Marek Pekelniak
Age: 18
Loyalty: Carnival
Reborn soul: Polyphemus, the cyclops (mortal)
Powers: None
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral/Evil

Biography

As a child, Marek fit awkwardly into the shape of the world around him: a square peg for a round hole. His developmental delays were apparent, but despite a mutism that lasted until he was four years old, his eyes lingered with intelligence on his surroundings. When he did speak, his words came slow and heavy, as if every one cost him something to pull up from the dark. Yet there was nothing discernibly wrong with Marek, but what he lacked in words, he made up for in strength.

When he was twelve, they put him under the care of Old Jaro, the tent master. Jaro was missing two fingers and most of his teeth, but he could read the weather like a book. He smelled of sweat, oil, and tobacco, and cursed like a preacher in reverse. He was the first person to tell Marek he wasn’t useless. “The Carnival don’t care what you look like, boy,” Jaro once said, cigarette glowing between his lips. “Only that you don’t let the ropes slip.” Jaro taught Marek everything: how to read the wind before a storm, how to anchor a tent so it could outlast the weather, and how to fix anything with wire and willpower. To Marek, he was more than a mentor. He was the first person who ever saw worth in him.

When a storm tore through the Carnival two years ago, it was Jaro who went up the central rigging to cut a tangled line. Lightning struck the mast, and by morning, they found him still hanging there, blackened rope around his wrist. If Marek mourned, it was in private, but after that night, Marek took his place. He never said he wanted the post. He just started doing the work, and no one stopped him.

Now eighteen, he’s not handsome, not charming, and he knows it. Marek is part of the invisible skeleton holding the Carnival upright. His muscles move like machinery; his skin is streaked with grease that never seems to come off. People talk about him behind his back, but he prefers the sound of bolts tightening to the sound of voices. The others laugh without him. He tells himself he doesn’t care.

And then there’s Lalitha. She is light and colorful in the way her tattoos are mesmerizing and colorful, and he can’t stop thinking about her. Not in the gentle way people talk about love. He doesn’t talk to her. He doesn’t speak to her if he can help it. He just watches, pretending he’s fixing something when she passes, but she makes him feel both alive and sick. He tells himself it’s nothing, but sometimes, when he’s alone tightening bolts under the big top, he imagines her voice behind him, her breath on his neck, and it’s enough to make his hands tremble.

He sticks close to the rigging boys. They don’t talk about feelings or dreams, just tools and work and what’s for dinner. Around them, Marek feels normal. Sometimes he catches himself listening for Jaro’s old whistle in the wind, and when he does, he tightens the ropes and looks at the storm rolling in.

This list is organised by areas of similar interest not by location. These are specific, regularly used places, or ones which have connections to PC characters. The list is not exhaustive and you are welcome to use your own locations, as well as more general locations or districts in Moscow, more for which can be found on the various sub-boards on the forums.


Link to the wiki page: RP Settings in Moscow

She stepped off the tram with a coffee in one hand, the other jammed into the pocket of her long coat. Dark charcoal, cut sharp at the collar, it was formal without being stiff. Beneath it, black jeans and boots with just enough heel to give her presence without flash. Her henley was deep rust, soft and collarless, buttons flicked open at the collar. Her hair was down on purpose falling in thick tresses, not too neat, not too wild. Her makeup was clean, matte, but her eyes were ringed in eyeliner, sharp enough to be taken seriously. 

The closer she came to the Sanctuary of the Ascendant Flame, the more that coffee cup felt like a lifeline. Her fingers were warm from it, steady, even though her heart stirred with something quieter than fear but deeper than nerves.

She passed the stone sculptures outside with barely a glance. She remembered the first time she’d come here almost a year ago now, under a different sky and under someone else’s orders. That visit had been secret, cautious, and very brief.

Inside, the Sanctuary smelled faintly of incense and cold stone. The air was still, the kind of stillness that made her feel like someone was always watching her. Morning sunlight poured through stained glass windows, casting fractured reds and ambers onto the tiled floor. She wasn't sure how to go about doing this, so she stepped forward mustering as much confidence as she could, and approached the first person she saw.

“I’d like to join,” she said simply, voice firm.

There. Said.

Local authorities are investigating a catastrophic incident at the Kameny Dar Geological Museum outside Kostroma, where the entire structure and its contents appear to have melted into a molten sinkhole early Wednesday afternoon.

The small field museum, known for its mineral exhibits and school programs, was hosting a student group from Moscow when the event occurred. Officials say twelve students and two teachers were scheduled to arrive that morning, though none have yet been located.

Emergency response teams from Yaroslavl and Kostroma reported that the surrounding forest was scorched in a perfect circle extending 200 meters from the museum site. Soil samples remain too hot for collection nearly 24 hours later.

Quote:“There are no signs of explosives or accelerants,” said Chief Investigator Pavel Grekov. “The stone itself appears to have liquefied from within. We’ve ruled out volcanic activity, as this region is geologically stable.”

Quote:“We understand the public’s concern,” said Deputy Minister Melnik. “There is no evidence of ongoing danger. The incidents remain isolated.”

Matvei Ignatiev is a new 19 year old channeler. He attends Moscow University and is a geology major.  He has an affinity for earth and fire now that he's come into his powers he's rather volitale when angered.

Matvei Ignatiev

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In a shocking incident late Tuesday night, a residential home in the Sokolniki District was reduced to a pool of molten debris after what witnesses described as a “wave of heat” rippled through the structure. Authorities report that the family of four escaped moments before the house appeared to melt into the ground.

Firefighters arriving at the scene were unable to approach within thirty meters due to residual temperatures exceeding 1,200 degrees Celsius—hot enough to liquefy the foundation and asphalt around the site. The molten crater continued to glow orange for nearly an hour before slowly cooling.

Quote:“It wasn’t an explosion. There was no blast radius,” said Deputy Fire Chief Sergei Antonov. “It’s as if the building’s core just… liquefied. We’ve never seen anything like it.”

Quote:“There is no danger to the public at this time,” stated Ministry spokesperson Irina Melnik. “We are treating this as an isolated event.”

Meeting with the Ascendancy so soon would likely be questioned. That's three in a few weeks. 
 
So. I know I just met with the Ascendancy but I need to request another. I've been in contact with the New Atharim. The Praeceptor of the Reliquiae, the self proclaimed New Regus of the New Atharim wants to meet with you. A new er, with me as his face puppet.

It wasn't long before Nox got a reply.  And not just from anyone, but the Ascendancy himself.
 
Why in the world would I want to meet with the Regus?

He is not the Regus. His name is Eliot Languex, an obsolete son of an Atharim benefactor who like us can channel. He wants to do things differently here in Moscow and wants your sign off. I wasn't planning on telling you this now. But I figured the truth sooner rather than later might gain him that meeting. He's willing to risk his life for the meeting. He's at least serious

And what is this Praeceptor of the Reliquiae?

The presumed leader of a new faction of Atharim I assume. One moving into this new age of gods and men. Working together? I guess.

What do you think he wants?

Well considering he wants me to be the face of this new Atharim, I think he's looking for a more transparent Atharim. Not killing human's outright because he's one of us. He's not like the last Reguses. He's a godling. If he wants me, that means he beleives like I do. He knows of the cases I've taken, and those I've refused. I don't know the full plan, but I think he wants to move the Atharim in a new direction. With your help.

The final message received was not anything of text, but two passes for himself and Eliot Languex to the Garden, with date, time and coordinates.  Lucky them.