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nomorefstogive · 3 months

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Night On Bald Mountain (OC Musicart for Takt Op. Symphony)

Hello dear friends, new friends, and those simply browsing, we have something new for all of you today, something we have truthfully been meaning to do for a while but have simply never gotten around to doing so thanks to life and other such issues.

The new thing in question being our first attempt at posting one of the OCs we have come up with for one of the games we find to be quite interesting and are fond of.

With all of that said, this work is heavily inspired by the writing style of our friend @2broschlininahotub , especially in regards to how our OCs abilities are listed and described, so please go and take a look at their projects when you get the chance.

This work is also inspired by the ideas and exchanges we have shared with @badtaktopheadcanons , we would like to apologize to them for the delay in posting this but we have been somewhat busy recently and a little unwell, but the sickness is past and we have managed to refine this idea to a point we feel is acceptable enough to post.

All of that said, let us present to you one and all our take on what a Musicart based on Night On Bald Mountain would be like, though a brief note before we start is that she is also inspired by the darker tone of the music and the appearance of the demon Chernabog during the Disney animation of Fantasia as opposed to the witches' sabbath the music is supposed to be about.

With all of that out of the way, let us begin shall we?

Also, slight NSFW and Trigger Warning due to description of disturbing themes such as occult imagery, descriptions of bodily harm, mentions of cannibalism, experimental medical procedures, and mentions of sexual acts in tattoo form though they are not really described.

Name: Night On Bald Mountain

Alias: Chernabog

Affiliation: Melodic Union (Founder)

Place of Summoning: Eastern European Symphonica

Score: Night On Bald Mountain by Modest Mussorgsky

Role: Hybrid, Support Caster/Assault

Height: 6ft 10 inch

Weight: 230lbs

Age: Mid to late 30s.

Hair Color: Bald, formerly Black before she shaved her hair due to fire damage sustained in battle.

Skin Tone: Light to Dark Gray.

Eye Color: Yellow with orange pupils that glow like flames.

Facial Features: A broad brow with deep set eyes, sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin are coupled with slightly pointed ears and full lips to lend her a rather intimidating appearance, especially when one considers the shadows of her cloak and the baleful glow of her eyes.

Body Features: Her shoulders are broad and thick, her arms like miniature tree trunks with the gnarled roots being her surprisingly slim fingers, each tipped with nails that she allows the younger Musicarts and humans to paint for her during her free time.

There is little to no fat on her, with only powerful muscles brought about by a lifetime of grueling battle, coupled with scars and tattoos of occult iconography to adorn her body.

On the back of her left shoulder is done a tattoo of a silver full moon, and on the back of her right a blazing sun of gold and orange and crimson, with runes and glyphs in languages long dead twirl and dance around images of angels in armor with blazing weapons aloft and demons cackling in mad delight amidst fields of screaming faces.

Curiously, all of the tattoos seem to shift and stir to swirl and churn like a miasmic nebula of some unknown nether world when one gazes upon them for too long.

The screaming of the faces caresses ones ears as hands seem to emerge to pull you towards her, the clamor of battle and holy hymns as angels and saints charge forth adding to the dizzying spell that merely gazing upon her can cast upon one who is not prepared.

Upon her chest there lays the depiction of a great lock, bound in chains of silver and gold, resting amidst a cleared area of skin, the runes and glyphs, the lurid and perverse and debauched iconography and images that now intermingle with nauseating occult images seeming to part as waves of water upon a stone around the field.

Indeed, not even a singly drop of ink not a part of the lock and chains spills onto the field, be it from the succubi and incubi depicted around her breasts, reveling with humans and demons alike, but even the wafting smoke depicted to come from candles above a nauseating banquet of fetid meat, offal, corpses and worse whereupon demons and witches dine deign not to touch the field.

And below the table, coiling around her sex there are depictions of demons and humans in lurid poses and acts, debauchery that makes one's stomach churn to see as they gaze upon the images, the odors of sex and blood and howling screams and pleas assailing their ears as they see the artwork come alive.

Yet all of these runes and symbols and images pale to the greatest piece of ink that adorns her frame, for upon her back there rest a depiction of a great winged demon rising from a sable mountain amidst a roiling storm.

Its outstretched arms and wings enveloping a coven of what appear to be witches and demons in their shadow as they revel and make merry under the demons hellish gaze.

And as one gazes upon it they feel the heat of flames licking their naked flesh, the cruel wind cutting and flaying and shearing at their form as the needle like rain chills them to their very bone, the roar of thunders soon drowned out by the mad howling of the demented revelers and the mockingly perverse laughter of the devil who above this hell rains supreme.

And were one to gaze upon that stygian demon, now lit by the flames of hell itself as they sway and write up from depths unseen, then one would feel their very soul come alight with agony as eyes like embers glow with perverse malice as hands reach out to bend and tear and break and make mockery all that has been wrought by the hands nature and the divine.

Yet salvation would come, for just as those abhorrent hands come close to closing around one, just as the fetid odor of Sulphur and aged blood begin to overwhelm ones senses and their skin begins to blister and peel at the devils' caress, there comes the sound of a bell.

A melodious chime that resounds once, the noise driving the demons into the shadows and making the witches take flight from the sable mountain as both spew such curses that your ears will burn at the ever distant horizon, whereupon a glimmer of golden light is seeping forth from.

A roar of wrath and fury will slip from the devil's lips as it reaches out to seize hold of you once more, to rend and tear and defile and break in ways not even the most perverse of torturers could dream of, yet again it flinches back at the second chime, warm light caressing your skin and healing the wounds wrought by the presence of such evil.

And with the third chime there comes the rays of light being cast upon the demon, its skin burning to bone and organs as it howl in agony before it drapes its wing upon itself once more, hiding upon the mountain as it rages impotently at the end of its hour, all while yet slavering at the maw for the hedonisms to come when it is once more its time.

As the light caresses you, a silent embrace will pull you into the light and pull you from this world, but as it does so an image may flicker before your eyes, a great lock, broad and tall as a mountain with chains of equal grandeur, and before it stands a cloaked figure who turns to look at you with glowing eyes and a simple nod before the image passes.

Whether or not these hypnotic effects and tattoos were upon her when she was called forth by that dying conductor none can truly say, only that they serve to make this towering being all the more intimidating.

Weapon: Sabbath, a Bass-Mace styled to resemble a fallen angel above a mass of souls that are grasping at it, with batlike wings resting above where she grips the weapon with three blades emerging from the sides and back of it. The bow also doubles as a sword in battle.

Passive Skills (First Form):

In Darkness Gather: Starts with 5 stacks of Light and 0 Stacks of Darkness, each ability increases Darkness and reduces Light, with each reduction in light increasing the Speed of Night On Bald Mountain along with her attack power at the price of the Crit Rate and Speed of her fellows and her own defense. When Light reaches 0, Night On Bald Mountain’s Peak Performance becomes available and she enters into her second form.

For Our Future (Shared Between Forms): Night On Bald Mountain is the founder and acting leader of the Melodic Union, her mere presence is enough to inspire her allies to fight with greater tenacity with each member receiving a marked buff to Speed and Attack as well as sharing in her buffs and debuffs gained through her first passive ability.

A Necessary Price: Whenever an ally falls in battle, Night On Bald Mountain will move forward one place and gain a 5%/10%/15% increase in attack and speed for the duration of the battle.

Active Skills (First Form):

Gather My Witches: Buffs her allies by extending the duration of their overtime effects such as poison and overtime healing abilities, she likewise gains a shield proportional to 5% of her health. The ability also makes the enemies more vulnerable to damage over time abilities.

The light is starting to dim. 1 Stack of Darkness is gained.

Ritual’s Beginning: Night On Bald Mountain slams her bass into the ground and plays a brief tune, the power instills her allies with manic fervor, boosting their attack speed and damage as the enemies suffer a defense reduction with Night On Bald Mountain gaining a bonus to her Defense and Resistance as well.

It is getting Darker. 1 Stack of Darkness is gained.

Shield Of The Coven: Chernabog strums her bass and generates a barrier around her allies proportional to her remaining health, she then gains 2 stacks of Guard for the ally with the lowest health as she gains a buff to her own defense and resistance proportional to a percentage of the ally she is defendhing’s missing health.

The time is nigh. Gain 1 stack of Darkness.

Peak Performance: Night On Bald Mountain, The Sabbath Begins: The darkness has drowned out the light and thus she surges forth, her cloak dissolving into darkness as she lifts her bass in one hand and bow in the other as she deals massive damage to all enemies as she reaves through their ranks.

She likewise subtracts 15% health from her allies to further boost her attack and defense for 3 turns. All allies gain bonuses to Speed and Attack Damage, but suffer lower Defense as they gain the Dark Revelry Bonus. Night On Bald Mountain switches to Second Form, Chernabog.

Passive Skills (Second Form):

Profane Revelry: Chernabog commands her fellows to fight beyond their limits, upon entering her second state she grants them a protective barrier equivalent to a proportion of their missing health and a sizable bonus to Speed and Attack at the price of Defense being reduced for 3 rounds.

Witchcraft: Chernabog calls forth an unnatural power upon her arrival, the Darkness no longer reducing the Speed and Crit Rate of her allies at the price of their Defense being Reduced. Similarly, the healing effects of her fellow Musicarts is increased in proportion to the buffs they possess that increase Attack and Speed. Now is not the time for defense, make use of the Darkness and break their ranks.

The Dark One: Chernabog grows in power in the Darkness, starting with 5 stacks of Darkness, yet as her power grows so to does her arrogance, for each stack of Darkness Chernabog has her defense is reduced by 3%/9%/15% with her gaining a speed and attack bonus of equal proportion.

However, the dawn is coming and with it her power wanes, each Stack of Light she gains reduces her Speed and Attack bonuses until she is forced back into the shelter of her cloak at the toll of the bell.

Dawn to Dusk, Dusk to Dawn: Upon reaching 5 stacks of Light, Chernabog will automatically utilize her Peak Performance, Sabbath’s End and revert back to her first form, Night On Bald Mountain, while suffering a one round stun.

Active Skills (Second Form):

Might Of The Sabbath: Chernabog lunges forward and slams into the enemy in the first position with her bass, dealing heavy physical damage, shuffling them backwards and then slashing at the enemy that takes their place with her bow, which will deal magic damage.

If no enemy swaps positions with them, or she deals a death blow with the attack, she will gain a retaliation buff, the next attack on her will prompt her to retaliate with an attack that is 50%Physical and 50% Magical in damage.

The light is approaching. 1 Stack of Light is gained.

Unhallowed Gathering: Chernabog calls forth the unhallowed spirits of fallen foes and friends to aid her in battle, inflicting heavy magical damage to the first two enemies with the last two suffering moderate magical damage as well, all of her enemies suffer a reduction in their speed.

This ability can increase in power proportional to the amount of fallen allies, with each fallen Musicart on the field granting a 5%/10%/15% bonus to her attack with the wraiths summoned gaining the appearance of her fallen fellows.

The light is starting to loom. 1 stack of Light is gained.

Vengeance Of The Coven: Chernabog raises her Bass and begins to play a profaned melody, sending out a shockwave that does heavy Magical damage to all enemies and stuns the first enemy as she takes a small portion of health from each of her allies to buff her own attack and defense.

This ability has a cooldown of 1 turn.

The light is almost gone, it is nearly time. Gain 1 stack of Darkness.

Peak Performance, Sabbath’s End: Sensing the coming of Dawn and the end of her hour, Chernabog launches one last offensive as she raises her bass and bow in hand and channels forth a haunting dirge as she summons forth the spirits of her fallen comrades to take their curtain bow.

The vengeful spirits assail the enemy team inflicting magical damage to all they strike as Chernabog continues her ballad, ending but when the rays of light begin to sear her skin as she lets out one last defiant roar before she unleashes a final shockwave of magical and physical damage to her enemies before her cloak reforms around her as she returns to her first form.

The light will fade eventually, and then it will be her time once more.

Bio: Night On Bald Mountain, or Chernabog as she has come to be known, is one of the longest serving Musicarts within the European theater, if not then on the planet as a whole, a veteran of countless battles that have left scars in the Earth itself she is regarded by those that know of her as a force of nature more than a living being.

Yet despite all of her victories and the gains she has brought forth to humanity and the Musicarts, the respect and reverence she is held in is matched in equal parts by contempt and fear as a result of her ideology, the power she commands, and the deeds she has committed to gain humanity and the Musicarts the many victories she has.

Her story starts with a dying Conductor, desperate to save as many people as he could to such an extent that even as his blood pooled around him he managed to summon forth the strength to play a score found amidst debris in a desperate hope that the one who would answer the call would save the people of his besieged home.

With the Despair Dolls slaughtering their way through the halls and towards him, many of the life support pods having already been destroyed and thus the symphonica’s primary purpose having already been compromised, and the Musicarts reduced to but a handful that held fast barred doors to defend the terrified people, he called forth his last bit of strength and commanded those that could to play the piece.

At first, it seemed that it had not been a savior that had heeded their summons but a fiend of hell, for there before them stood a towering figure clad in stygian robes adorned with occult runes and sigils, the gem encrusted bones of beast and man alike seeming to act as armor for her menacing form.

Further still to unnerve them was the sight of a great double bass styled like a fallen angel, its lips parted in a salacious grin as it becking the unclean and lost soul towards it, and a bow made to resemble a combination of a wand of cold stone and a blade of black metal, that had accompanied the towering forms arrival.

From the hood that obscured their face there came forth a waterfall of onyx hair that brushed over their shoulders and nearly touched the ground, yet more unnerving was the deepset pair of blazing orbs of yellow and orange that stared out at them with such naked might that all were frozen where upon they stood.

Yet their fear proved to be for naught, as soon did the menacing form move to aid the dying Conductor, laying them down upon the ground and trying to soothe their pain to the best of their ability, only for her efforts to be in vain.

His time nearly at an end, the cold steel of the scythe upon his throat, the Conductor begged her to protect the civilians and to save their broken lands, his final comfort being a voice, one that was paradoxically both thunderous as an avalanche and gentle as a spring shower as cold lips rested against his brow as he was finally let to rest.

Upon laying the Conductor down and allowing herself a moment of silence, the towering Musicart rose to her full height and strode forth, bass in one hand and bow in the other as she surged towards the aperture from which the Despair Dolls began to pour as her fellows were at last forced to withdraw.

Yet the victory of the beasts was short lived, for with but a single strumming of her bass there came forth a mighty wave of energy and force that flung her foes upon their backs, leaving them open for the harrowing that was to follow as she met their charge as an avalanche, crushing and hewing and grinding all that dared to approach her as she alone held fast the opening till her fellows had recovered enough to sally forth and aid her in battle.

Days of non-stop battle would pass as the towering Musicart took command of not only her fellow Musicarts, but also of the civilians and remaining staff of the symphonica, quickly putting all to work in as best a manner as she could.

From having those who could not fight act as medics and engineers to repair the damaged halls and prepare defenses in case they needed to fall back, to commissioning others to act as scouts and lay down traps for the Despair Dolls as her and her fellow Musicarts marshaled forward and began a brutal counter offensive.

Over the course of nearly 7 months the Musicarts of the Eastern European Symphonica fought tooth and nail to reclaim their home, not just the Symphonica, but the lands around it as well, a horrific loop forming whereupon some would fall and the remaining Musicarts or conductors would use their scores to resurrect them to continue the battle for their home.

Eventually, after many sacrifices and much strife, the Symphonica and the lands around it were reclaimed and the Dissonant Meteorite Shards that had summoned forth the invading Despair dolls in the city were undone, thus affording the battered warriors a much needed respite.

It was during this respite that the Musicarts and civilians of the Eastern Symphonica would gather to discuss the path forward, as with no ability to communicate with the outside world and no sign of support, it was obvious that they were in for a long campaign.

During this time, many issues were brought forth, such as the housing of the civilians, along with what to do with the remaining preservation pods that had endured the assault, with Night On Bald Mountain and several others claiming that the pods and those they contained contributed nothing to their struggle and were thus useless, while others, primarily members of the staff and a handful of Musicarts, argued for their preservation as was one of the main goals of the Symphonicas.

It was during one such debate that Night On Bald Mountain took to the stand and spoke aloud-

“Brothers and sisters, fellow survivors one and all I ask you to lend me your ears.

Let us stand here today unfettered by the shackles of our pasts, for whoever we were before, whatever our place of origin and our caste within society, no longer do these things matter to us.

For of what value can they be when beasts hold us fast to the shadows and alcoves of our own home?

Of what value does it matter the ideals and dreams we once held fast, of what our purposes were before claw and fang and blade and spell hew and tore us from our homes and brought us down into these depths?

My friends, our Sabbath stands alone, beset on all sides by beasts driven but to seek our ruin and naught else, indeed you must harken well to this truth that we are indeed alone, for no messengers have come and no horns have resounded to herald aid.

We are alone.

My friends, we must set in stone here and now the first flagstone on the path to our salvation, and I believe to all of you it is obvious what must be done.

Take not joy in this.

Take not pleasure in this.

Find not merriness in what we must do this day.

For know that the path to our salvation is held fast with the mortar and cement of sacrifice, and on this day we must make a grievous one.

The space held by those pods can be used to house not only the survivors of our home, but any others that come to us, and that is to say nothing of the amount of power they consume, need I remind you all that our own generators can barely supply us enough to keep the lights on as it is due to the damage they sustained?

In that same vein, those within those pods contribute nothing to our struggles as they slumber, nor do we possess the means to awaken them and put them to work in aiding us, and while many here may have sentimental bonds to them…I feel that even they can foresee the writing on the wall…

My friends…I know what I am asking of you…

My sisters…I know how much this tears at your hearts…

But the road forward must be trodden…no matter how horrific it may be.

…Let us stand my comrades and march into the future free of the fetters of our past…no matter ow much it is that we long for their restricting embrace.”

This would not be the first time that Night On Bald Mountain and her fellows sacrificed the slumbering elite of the old world for the sake of the civilians of the new, yet it would perhaps be the only time that Night On Bald Mountain would weep for them.

As with each Symphonica she and her forces discovered, and with every piece of information she learned regarding the purpose of the Symphonicas and their treatment of those beyond their walls, how the civilians were left to fend for themselves and oft used as meat shields and disposable pawns by an uncaring A.I. and its equally calloused human allies, her heart hardened and her ideals were further cemented.

“To save our Future, we must first ensure the survival of the Present, and the only way to do that, is to break each and every fetter that binds us to the Past…no matter how much it hurts to do so.”

It would be shortly after she had the pods of her own Symphonica deactivated and space made the people that she was approached by a combination of civilian and Musicart that told her of their desire to elect her their leader, a role that Night On Bald Mountain solemnly accepted.

Not long thereafter the group coined the name it has born to this day; “The Melodic Union”, a force of Musicarts and humans rallied together to save their lands and people, no matter the price they must pay to do so.

Overtime the group would grow, from one Symphonica to 2, from 2 to 4 and so on, with each hard fought and hard won victory bringing more into the fold of this fledgling union, its numbers soon swelling as many that had lost their home or purpose found a new one within the arms of the force that stood poised to reclaim their lands and those beyond.

From civilians who had lost their homes and been forced to hide in the rubble and defiled halls of the battered Symphonica;s, to Musicarts and Conductors that had thought themselves forsaken and abandoned when communication was lost with their fellows and none came to aid them, all would be offered a chance to strike back, and most would readily take it…even if the price was a part of their sacred duty being cast off.

It was during their expansion and reclamation efforts, stonewall defense having yielded to merciless blitzkrieg and unwavering assaults, that a discovery was made that would change the Union and the balance of power forever, a means of granting the purposeless and vengeful a chance to be of value to the Union in ways other than as farmers and engineers and craftsman.

For upon a field grim and sepulchral, there was uncovered a means of imbuing humans with the power of Musicarts, though it came at great risk.

Indeed, this process, discovered during a particularly bloody battle where a Musicart, desperate to save the life of the one she loved, tore a piece of her own Score off and implanted it in the human, the result being a form of Proto-Musicart, an entity of above human power, yet still below true Musicarts in strength.

And it was not only females that could be bestowed such power, for while it would alter the flesh and mentality of them, it could likewise be used on males as well, further allowing for the ranks to be swelled and for a fresh wave of recruits to join forth in battle.

Though the risks were high, for these people risked the loss of their memories and identities, their bodies morphing and changing and bringing with them dysphoria and unease as they became entities similar to the Musicarts in appearance, though some came to find themselves possessing traits of both male and female in the process.

Yet another detriment there was in the form of the toll taken upon the Musicart who bestowed her power unto them, for each whom was granted a sliver of their score became as an extension of themselves, the lines between them blurring as memories warped and identities were pulled taught should one lack will and mental fortitude.

And still more issues came forth in the weakness and fragility that would plague the gifter until such a time as their score was mended, be it through regeneration by immersing themselves in meditation, prayer, or through the melody of the Score itself.

Yet these determinants were but naught before the chance this revelation offered, for those who had lost all now held fast a chance to claim due vengeance and to stand with their protectors and to shield their own kin as well, the price be damned.

It is a shame that the price they paid, all of their pain and suffering, was all built upon lies.

For indeed the process had been created to give hope to these hopeless and downtrodden, to target those with naught but vengeance to use to keep the frigid husk that they had become warm, with but the flickering shadow cast by the malefic flame of wrath to guide them through the darkness of their daily lives.

While indeed the process did work, it was born not out of a beautiful and desperate love, but in the cold depths of laboratory carved out amidst the ruins of the Union’s main Symphonica, a result of desperate experiments and of equally as desperate dreams and hopes for a means of granting all those trapped in these dying lands a chance at revenge.

Was it wrong to lie to them?

To take those who had nothing and no one, who were but broken pieces of scrap metal, and to melt them down in a crucible of agony and science and magic such that their vaunted humanity was nigh stripped from them?

Perhaps, though Night On Bald Mountain doubted that any of her comrades truly believed the tale that had been told as a means of covering up the broken bodies and agonized screams of the failed results of the experiments that had preceded the success that allowed for all to stand as one against their foes.

But morals were of no concern to her, no, all that mattered was that her people now had a chance to fight back, and fight back they would.

Soon it was that the Melodic Union would surge forth in full, tearing a swath of destruction and wrath through the lands as they drove their hated foes before them and then crushed them under their boots as they reclaimed acre after acre of lost land, their banners and calls gathering others to them in droves as their march continued.

It would be after the Union’s forces had come to the rescue of a Symphonica that had managed to hold fast with the sacrifices of many brave Musicarts, and the destruction of a towering Shard of the Dissonant Meteorite, that at last communication between the Union and the Symphonica’s Leadership was re-established.

At first there was shock that any yet lived in what was thought a no-man’s land, and then there came joy as kin found one another again and news of triumphs and victories hard fought and harder won were spread as the kindling of a bonfire of hope.

Yet it was not all cheer, for upon learning of Night On Bald Mountain and her followers deactivating and removing the pods from each Symphonica, there came many in the leadership of the Symphonica’s, fellow Musicarts, and governments who disavowed her and her fellows as radicals and demanded the fledgling union turn over its masters to face judgment for violating their mission.

The answer was a resounding no from the masses, as both Musicart and Human chose to stand with Night On Bald Mountain and her fellowship in support of their decisions, with the Symphonica’s leadership facing the very real threat of a war with this fledgling Union should the matter continue to be pressed they chose to drop the charges until after the war with the Despair Dolls was concluded, something the Union knows all too well.

So it is that even amidst the thunderous maelstrom of war, another tempest yet brews, hidden behind the darkened skies and whips of lightning as, with nebulous tendrils, it shifts the pieces on the board in preparation for a coming calamity.

For the Union has chosen the one it shall follow, the one they trust to lead them forth into a new age, and if the symphony they seek to usher in must be penned in the blood of those once dearest kin and colleagues…then so be it.

#takt op symphony #ocs #takt op. symphony #takt op. symphony oc Musicart #musicart #original character

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