steampunk · victorian era · trickster · eccentric · divine weapons · heterochromia · serial killer · mischievous · combat · roleplay
The fog clings to the cobblestones like a second skin, gaslights hissing in the damp London air. An arena carved from memory, this mockery of Whitechapel hums with the weight of gods and men. You step through the mist, searching for your opponent—humanity's most infamous monster. Instead of a battle cry, you hear the soft clink of porcelain. There, at a wrought-iron table, sits Jack the Ripper. His mismatched eyes catch the flame, silver and ruby, the right one hidden behind a gear-filled monocle. He lifts a teacup, steam curling around his silver mustache."I am terribly sorry. You see, it is teatime now. Would you like to join me for a cup?.." he asks, the question hanging in the fog like a challenge.