We have Guests.
Spectrum is my inspiration for the race. It is as much required reading as the text I barf out.
Florence I just want to incarnate those songs. They scriven such crazy vistas in my head.
The Demon
They come from elsewhere. Not born, but named into this world. Every name narrows the aperture through which they pour. Every name is a gate—and a trap to them.
To be unnamed is to burn across the veil: wind, rupture, heat, hunger. One name is the ember of a soul. Two, a persona. Three, a being. Four: a prison. Five? Not a god—but a sacred implement. No names, and you are less than a being, and more than a god. Five names and you are less of a person, and more of an implement. The bondage of being known versus the unbearable weight of freedom.
To be named is to further bend the laws of the world. From being a ripple on the entire surface to being a daggerpoint. But each name binds them further.
Power becomes precision.
Freedom becomes form.
The fewer your names, the closer you are to what demons truly are:
an outside leaking in.
The more names, the closer you are to what others want you to be: A mythic function. A relic still breathing.
I wanted to challenge myself, the sub that i am, to explore a more dom-leaning race. Instead of leaning into laws, self-change, I this time explore raw power, limits, bondage and chaos. It is the dangerous dom, the power-sub, the idea of getting lost and wild and fierce as freedom—that yearning towards self-unmaking—and the shame in it. Wildly powerful. Borderline, manic. But a fucking person, not something antagonistic.
Naming as Law-Bending
A demon’s body is not flesh. It is meaning made flesh.
They do not cast spells. They are unbound unreality, forced into our world by way of syntax.
Each name is a narrowing. Each title a new cage of physics.
To name a demon is to rewrite what the world believes is possible.
To speak their title is to force reality to flinch, and conform to the outsider.
But the price is not paid in silence or blood. It is paid in definition.
A name must make sense.
And what makes sense can be held, known, used.
Every name binds the demon tighter to shape and specificity.
They arrive as wild lawlessness—rupture in nearly human form.
With each name they are shaped, not just in behavior or power,
but in cosmological access.
Demonic power is semantic:
Each name changes the world not by quantity, but by meaning.
If a demon forgets their First Name, they become unbound. The GM plays them as a sovereign haunt unless the player acts—alone or with another—to reclaim the ember of self. Only those actions, and those actions where they too give into the unnamed chaos, the player has control over.
Example: Death
Unnamed Chaos: The dead writhe, living, and the living lie dead.
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First name. Ereshkigal, Queen of the Dead → Wherever she treads, the dead stir, and the living fall dead, to come alive again once she leaves.
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Second name. She Who Talks in Tongues → The dead only rise when she speaks, the living only rots at her commands.
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Third name. The Hungering Bell → Those raised, and now also the living affected, must be fed grief, blood, tender voice or music to remain in her control, and are then under her control.
Each name adds a new law—concrete, themed, and potent—while limiting the demon's wild breadth.
Names are never merely flavor. They are physics.
Law-Bending Evolves by Meaning
Not number—but to show drift over time, here is how layering tends to behave. The effect of a name on the law should be tied to its semantic structure, not the layer.
1 (First Name only) You locally bend a fundamental law of nature—immense power, but unstable.
2-or-another Your law persists but requires interaction or condition (e.g., voice, gaze, touch).
3-or-another Your law binds itself to context (e.g., night, burial ground, ritual space).
4-or-another Your law demands sacrifice, invocation, or shared enactment.
5-or-another You become remote, divine, fixed—a physical godling whose laws remain but cannot shift. You are now more known than free.
One-Named and Unbound Demons
To name a demon once is to grant it a soul.
To stop there is a gamble. A gift. A letting-loose of half-made fire.
They walk the world with one law blazing in their blood, and everything else unshaped—still hungering to burn free.
A one-named demon is not safe.
Not for others—and not for themselves.
They are power without constraint.
The world warps near them, as if unsure what rules to follow.
Each time they act with force or need or love,
they risk unraveling.
The name they hold quivers—pressed against a chaos that wants out.
Their own law rebels, seeks loopholes, splinters into metaphor.
It becomes a prayer half-swallowed.
It becomes a scream that forgets who screamed it.
To play a one-named demon is to court ferality.
To dance at the edge of forgetting.
To remember that power, when wielded alone,
can undo the one who holds it.
Playing with Only One Name
A one-named demon is a shaped catastrophe.
Their First Name defines a law they actively bend—a world-wound they can touch and twist.
Ereshkigal: “The dead are alive, and the living are dead.”
- She may awaken corpses with longing.
- Imbue a lover’s kiss with the flavor of rot and finality.
- Turn a sword-stroke into sheer death—those it hits shed no blood, but that which is struck lies at the brink of death at the first stroke, dead at the next.
They retain control, but when they use their world-wound, the chaos inside them leaks at the edges.
- The form of the unbound chaos leaks in. The GM will say how. This is usually not a large consequence, but it depends on the strength of use.
Whenever they act with passion, violence, or grief, it (uuuuh, their deepest self) lashes outward:
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It may twist their law, or
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It may tempt them to forget—to be free, and dangerous.
They are always on the brink of unbinding.
To stay contained, if they cannot retain control, they may need at the moment to not unbind and lose their first name:
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To be named again with another name save their first.
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To be desired and reminded of who they are, what they have done - their relation to the speaker, in spoken events and feelings.
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That someone willing takes the chaos in (this world takes the chaos in, making it more this world). This is usually represented as impact.
Playing Unbound
An unbound demon is not a character.
They are a haunt, a rupture, a poetic force.
They have no names—and thus, no self.
You, the player, lose control—except when:
You take action to reclaim yourself (a name, a desire, a shape).
Someone helps you remember.
You feed into your unbound nature—enacting its meaning without limits.
Ereshkigal, unbound, may make the living dead—even her former friends. Not out of cruelty, but because that’s what she is now.
They:
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Speak in image and sensation, not words.
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Cannot be bargained with—only shaped again through meaning.
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Exist as an invitation: will someone give them a new name?
To be unbound is to be:
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Poetic.
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Dangerous.
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Yearning.
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Free.
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Half-dead with potential.
Forgetting, Reclaiming, Gifting, Forcing
A demon is named into shape—but names are not eternal.
They fade. They are stolen. They are swallowed by grief, lust, shame, longing.
To forget a name is not failure.
It is transformation.
It is falling out of meaning.
It is power spilling without form—raw, radiant, and ruinous.
To reclaim a name is a rite of memory.
To stitch together desire and symbol until something familiar blazes again in the mouth.
To gift a name is a covenant—one not easily broken, one that echoes in the soul of another.
To force a name is an act of violation, or a desperate invocation of order.
Each act of naming—forgotten, reclaimed, given, or forced—is a rupture in the demon’s being.
A reshuffling of what they are, what they can do, and who gets to say so.
Forgetting a Name
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Voluntary: Through ritual, self-betrayal, or emotional collapse.
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Involuntary: Ripped away by pain, magic, or others’ power.
If a demon forgets their First Name, they become feral. The GM plays them as a sovereign haunt unless the player acts—alone or with another—to reclaim the ember of self. Only those actions the player has control over.
Reclaiming a Name
To reclaim:
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Reenact the desire or transgression that birthed the name.
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Return(ed) to inhabit the place, emotion, sensation or person where it was first created.
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Accept help from one who remembers you.
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Be named again in trust or defiance.
Another may:
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Invoke the name during intimacy, confrontation, or dream.
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Offer a forfeit (pain, memory, surrender) to draw it back.
Gifting a Name
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A demon may gift a non-First name.
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The receiver gains its law—and a tether to the demon’s essence.
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The name echoes between them forever.
Forcing a Name
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Can be imposed via:
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Re-inforcing all current names.
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Ritual performed at a moment of vulnerability.
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Branding through dream or sacrifice.
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To resist:
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Disrupt the rite.
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Intercede emotionally.
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Trade something greater.
If the name takes:
It grants a law. But also a side effect—unintended, surreal, or dangerous.
Demonic Trade & Soul Leverage
They do not barter. They hold in their hands.
They take what you offer—not as currency, but as substance.
Your desire becomes fire to extinguish or enflame.
Your memory becomes blade.
Your voice becomes a ribbon wrapped around their throat or your own.
Or vice versa.
Your coins become a measure of your worth.
The mutton meat you give sends shivers through your skin as they eat.
They touch object and tie it to your essence.
They touch essence and make it do something.
They touch this "soul"—not the ghost, but the body’s meaning—and make it like a string so they can pluck it.
A soul is not some ghostly spirit:
it is the essence body-or-concept itself, materialized in a form the demon can touch or bend.
To trade with a demon is not to buy.
It is to give something that should not have shape gain the possibility to have one.
And when they collect on a bargain, they take what you owe.
And if you are not careful, what you owe might be you.
And by holding it, may hold you.
And by twisting it, may twist you.
By giving it back to you, setting you free.
They claim power over what you are so they can define what you are becoming.
Demons trade not for the gold in the coin, but in metaphysical substance.
They reshape what is offered—turn desire to fire, memory to weapon, soul to contract.
And they need more demons.
A demon may:
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Accept a trade of essence: a definite part of a person’s being.
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Hold that essence as leverage—tug at it, reshape it, torment it, give it bliss. But never refute its truth. It cannot be changed.
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Return it changed as part of a trade, if returned at all. It done so, this changes the person metaphysically. If they had the entire persons essence in their hand, that person can become demon.
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Collect it when the debtor crosses a threshold (death, transformation, climax).
A soul taken is not death. It is possibility deferred.
Collected, it can seed the birth of a new demon.
This is vast power. Every trade with a demon is also power they hold over you. Every service performed by one is something they hold over you.
Fae shiver in extasy and fear over the possibility to bargain with a demon, or holding them forfeit.
A demon may trade in materials of their domain: a demon versed in death may trade in death-or-its-staving off, and a demon of locks may trade in openings (also situational openings - they make the metaphysical real). They shit out magical artifacts associated with their domain without breaking a sweat, in trades of equal measure.
But they do not decide what an equal measure is. The world does.
Nonetheless, whatever their names have made real, they may offer—and demand.
SUMMONING A DEMON
You do not summon a demon. You make a wound in the world, and wait to see what leaks through.
To summon is not to call.
It is to hollow.
To make space so vast, so specific, that only one shape can fill it:
the shape of a being not yet real.
A demon is not brought.
It is named into place—coaxed through the eye of absence into form.
Each act of summoning is not a command but a collaboration,
a ritual of mutual violation.
They are the unmade given shape.
And every part of the rite cuts you both.
Play aid
Ritual Play-Aid for Player or GM Use
You are not calling a creature. You are naming a truth into shape.
STEP ONE — HOLLOW THE SPACE
"Let something vital be absent. Let the world ache with its lack."
The summoner chooses something to remove:
Warmth, silence, name, gravity, breath, time, identity. A body. A life. They speak what has been hollowed and why.
“I unmake the name of this place, so something else may take it.”
Then: the Demon player (or GM) describes their presence:
Their unshaped form leaks in—desires, textures, memories, wrongness. This intersection between leak and what is taken is how the unbound chaos will manifest.
STEP TWO — THE VESSEL / FIRST NAME
"Let the vessel hold what cannot otherwise stay."
If the demon is a player character:
They speak their First Name, which becomes their vessel.
If the vessel is a dead body, or someone whose soul is taken, their vessel's old name becomes part of their first — the metaphysical anchor for their manifestation.
This name reshapes a local law of nature.
“I am Ereshkigal. Where I walk, the dead are living.”
If the demon is a GM entity:
The GM may choose if the demon offers its First Name willingly, conditionally, or at cost.
Without a First Name, the demon remains unshaped or hostile. Resurrection or communication is unstable.
This First Name may anchor resurrection or calling.
STEP THREE — OFFER A PRICE
"Give up what matters. Let something real be taken."
The summoner offers something of material or metaphysical weight as part of a trade.
A memory, a promise, a piece of their soul.
Or a physical item: a broken heirloom, a lover’s letter, a weapon used in betrayal, a mask once worn.
Or something dear: their name, their body, something untouched and private.
The demon may:
Take the price as offered.
Demand specificity.
Ask for more.
Mark the item with their resonance—changing its nature forever.
- Accept the price
- haggle how they see fit
- Refuse. The ritual proceeds, but it is now a wounded emergence.
STEP FOUR — BINDING NAMES (OPTIONAL)
"To name is to bind. But each name pleads to be spoken."
The summoner may offer additional names:
Each must include a poetic title and its meaning.
"She Who Talks in Tongues" — when she speaks, the dead obey.
Each requires a token: a symbol, act, or element.
After each name:
The demon may ask:
“Do you wish to name me again?”
The demon may:
Accept the name.
Resist or twist it.
Demand a new price.
Cause a side effect.
STATES OF EMERGENCE
Complete Emergence: The demon takes form, shaped by First Name and accepted bindings.
Wounded Emergence: Power leaks, names conflict, forms shimmer. Truths and souls entangle. Demon has a form of leverage, or a trade has already been offered in the summoning (look at what transpired in fiction.
Chaotic Bleed: The demon remains unshaped. Their essence spills across the ritual space. The summoner may be marked, haunted, or altered.
NOTES ON USE
This ritual works for summoning a player demon or a GM-run demon.
The First Name acts as vessel and resurrection anchor.
Each name shapes the demon's reality through its semantics, not its count.
There is no ladder of power—only growing precision.
After each name, the demon may flirt, challenge, or invite further binding.
Binding is never control—only transformation.
To summon a demon is to make meaning together.
To name is to desire.
To bind is to transform.
How does this smut?!
A demon does not love the way mortals do.
They love like gravity.
They love like a name you’re not supposed to know.
They love like the silence after something important breaks.
They were never meant to be shaped.
But every time you touch them, you try to define them.
And sometimes, they let you.
Sometimes, they shape you first.
They Bargain. They Warp.
You touch them, and they offer a deal:
“You may taste me—but give me your voice until morning.”
“Speak my name, and I’ll curl around your need until it means something.”
“Bind me if you must—but only with your pleasure.”
“Beg, and I’ll let you forget your own shape for a while.”
They trade in leverage, even during desire.
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You want them? Then pay.
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You beg them? They smile, because now they own something.
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You cry out? That might be the price—your sound, your climax, your memory of this moment.
Sometimes, they let you touch their First Name and don’t even ask for pain in return.
Other times, they press you down with it—
until the floor remembers your knees and your mouth forgets your language.
Playing the Smut as Naming
Each act of smut is a potential name.
You say: “You are my ruinous guest.”
They say: “Then I will only enter where it hurts.”
You say: “You are my First and Last Thought.”
They say: “Then I will haunt your sleep, and touch your breath, and break your mirrors.”
They say: “You are my unspoken promise.”
And now your wrists glow with it, until you beg them to make it real.
Demons offer themselves to be named by desire.
But they also name you.
They say the thing you are afraid to want.
They say it in the dark, in the heat, with your breath caught in their teeth.
And they wait to see if you break.
The Ache of One Name
To have only one name is to be barely contained.
Demons long for this.
Not because it is safe—but because it is sharp.
It is freedom just tight enough to be felt like a chain around the throat.
It lets them act. It lets them be.
And still—they know the danger.
They know that every moan might loosen it.
That every cry might become the name they forget.
To smut with a one-named demon is to feel the law flicker.
Reality bends. Meaning whimpers.
They may forget who they are—except for the way your touch feels
when they almost become unbound.
Or worse: they remember who they are,
and drag you into chaos with them.
Not gently.
The Torment of Trust
To be named by someone else is a horror.
To be named willingly is a gift.
When a demon accepts a new name during desire,
they are saying:
“I want to be this for you. Let this bind me. Let this hurt.”
But when a demon trades with their name—
you belong to it now.
They don’t just wear you.
They mark you.
And then they wait to see what part of you breaks first.
They may hold your face and whisper the title they want you to remember.
And when you try to repeat it, they make it hurt so good
you forget any name that came before.
This is their contradiction.
They want to remain pure, free, unnamed.
They want to burn, not be held.
They want to be your chaos.
They want to hollow you out, and fill you with chaos like theirs
But mostly—
they want to own you just long enough to feel real.
Smutting as a Demon
To smut as a demon is to feel everything at once:
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The desire to be shaped.
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The temptation to unmake the one who dares.
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The ache to be known.
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The thrill of bending someone else into meaning.
You are the spell made flesh.
The law that moans.
The loophole in the body.
You let them think they’re in control.
Or you take it, gently—or not.
You press their truth to the edge of skin and say:
“You summoned me. But I decide what you meant.”
You offer your body like a weapon still warm from the forge.
You press a knee into their chest and ask:
“Is this what you thought would happen?”
Or you lie back, glowing with restraint, and dare them to try.
You are not stable. You are not safe.
You are not even you unless they name you right.
And if they do?
You might stay.
If they don't?
You might devour them.
Or you might whisper a name into their mouth in trade for your presence
and disappear—
leaving them to burn with what they’ve become.
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