THE BLACKEST YEARS [SPN RPG]

[WHOA NELLY]

the blackest years,
HOME OF A MID-SEASON FOUR SUPERNATURAL ROLE PLAY.
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welcome to the fight for existence,
NOTHING IS WHAT IT SEEMS, & AND EVERYTHING IS WHAT IT ISN'T.
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There is a war raging like an impromptu avalanche in the Himalayas, it’s quaking in the heart of men like tyranny in the government and courses through the world like variable white water rapids spanning the circumference of the planet. Most are unknowing to it’s plight. They live life in constant naivety and go to work, shop, eat and procreate assuming that the very next day they wake will be just as similar to the twenty four hours before. They’re wrong. The world is digressing. It’s unraveling and unfurling like a red carpet rolled out for the dead and it’s massacre leaves nothing but trauma in it’s wake.

when uncertainty is like flies to honey,
WHAT ROLE WOULD YOU CHOOSE TO PLAY?
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Still-- among the ordained simplicity in their lives lurk halfhearted heroes. People that wake up to fight the decay and answer the beckoning as if the trumpets rang to them like sirens from eternity. Their job is an inevitable beaten path to destruction. By choosing this life they sabotage themselves and those that know nothing else very rarely return back to the normality they want, had, or crave.

because what you decide now...
CHOOSES THE HAND OF FATE YOU'LL BE DEALT.
NO SECOND CHANCES. NO REGRETS. NO RUNNING.
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The earth is singing a hymn of misery as it careens into a sheath of darkness. There are beasts that lurk in the shadows, monsters that plague your dreams, animals that live only for the hunt. They’re there. They’re real. They’re no longer fictitious fallacies made up to entertain the minds of juveniles. They’re not kind, they won’t love you, their methods and intent rely solely on the kill. The unremarkable truth of human nature is that our destinies were to pillage and pilfer what had been gifted to us. It started in the Garden of Eden and evolved into holocausts and religious bias. The world aches for a safe haven, it bleeds for a chance to be renewed- the lines to the story have been long since written. It’s up to us to change them.

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