Loire

Loire

Appearance

Loire's true form is a towering skeletal figure draped in sinew and shadow, a mockery of the human body he once sculpted. His ribcage gapes open, glowing faintly with a ghostly light that flickers like a dying lantern, as though something imprisoned within is trying to break free. His maw stretches into a jagged grin filled with impossible teeth, dripping with pale ichor that never dries. From his back extend writhing tendrils, sinewy and sharp, moving as if with a mind of their own — tools of a macabre sculptor eager to carve flesh into new shapes. His movements are deliberate and heavy, each step carrying the oppressive weight of silence, while his presence alone suffocates the air around him, drowning mortals in dread before he even speaks.

Personality

Calm yet profoundly unsettling, Loire carries himself like a patient artisan. He speaks in broken, halting words, his voice rasping as though dragged across bone, but behind his fractured speech lies an unsettling clarity. To him, fear is not weakness but the purest truth — the instinct that strips away all lies and leaves only what one truly is. He views silence as power, for in silence, dread grows louder than any scream. Loire does not see his grotesque craft as cruelty, but as revelation: bodies hollowed and reshaped are mirrors of mortal fragility, eternal reminders of what they fear most. Though alien in thought, he is not aimless; every husk, every statue of flesh is part of a greater design — a gallery of horror meant to preserve fear as the foundation of order. Those who meet his gaze rarely know if he pities them, despises them, or merely studies them as raw material.

History

Mortal Life

Loire was born weak and sickly in a village where strength was prized. He was often mocked, pitied, or ignored. To escape, he hid among his father's trade: funerary work. He learned early to dress corpses, to preserve them, to give them one final 'appearance.'

But while others saw the dead as something to mourn, Loire saw them as art waiting to be shaped. The stillness of flesh fascinated him — no protests, no defiance, only silence he could mold. He began crafting lifelike figures, first from wax and cloth, then from animal hides, which he dressed and posed as though alive.

People whispered uneasily, but his work drew attention. Nobles commissioned his 'statues' for their courts, unnerved but enthralled by how real they seemed. Loire discovered something powerful: when people looked upon his creations, fear stirred in their eyes. That fear gave him joy.

The Descent into Darkness

Obsession consumed him. Wax and cloth were no longer enough. Loire began working with human skin, bones, and flesh, hollowing out bodies and reshaping them into grotesque displays. He turned entire rooms into galleries of silent onlookers, mannequins of death dressed as though attending feasts or dances.

Those who entered his hidden workshop recoiled in horror — but they could not look away. Loire realized fear itself was his true medium.

Eventually, his crimes were uncovered. Villagers stormed his home and dragged him before their king. The chambers of waxed and hollowed 'humans' stood as proof. To all, he was a monster. To Loire, he was an artist misunderstood.

Sentenced to death, he met his executioner with calm. Even as the blade rose, he saw terror in the crowd's eyes — and he smiled.

Rebirth as a God

Kirata saw not madness, but devotion to fear as a force of order. Where others destroyed, Loire preserved — twisted bodies into eternal vessels of terror.

He awoke in the void, remade into a skeletal horror of sinew and bone. His ribcage gaped open, glowing with an eerie inner light, while his maw split into a grotesque grin of jagged teeth. Tendrils writhed and lashed from his back like instruments of a macabre sculptor, eager to carve flesh into new forms. His hands no longer sculpted wax, but living bodies, molding them into grotesque perfection.

Fear radiated from him, not as a scream, but as silence too heavy to endure. He became the sculptor of bodies, the artisan of horror.

He wandered the endless void, leaving behind forests of flesh-statues, until at last he reached the great Light — Kirata's throne. There, he found six others already seated in the circle of twelve. His place was the sixth seat to the left of the throne.

Role and Current State

As the Sixth Moon, Loire embodies fear and the crafting of bodies — husks, shells, and vessels that echo his twisted artistry. Within the Abyss, his presence is felt as an oppressive silence, broken only by the imagined rattle of hollow bodies. He can only be glimpsed in the Abyss during June, where forests of flesh-statues stand as his eternal gallery. To mortals, his touch is terror itself; to Kirata, he is both jailor and sculptor, ensuring fear forever binds creation in order.

Synopsis

Loire, the Sixth Moon of the Abyss, embodies fear and the crafting of bodies. Once a frail mortal who sculpted corpses into statues, he now shapes husks without souls. Seated sixth to the left of Kirata's throne, he can be glimpsed in the Abyss during June, where forests of mannequins stand in his wake.

Trivia

Loire speaks in broken, fragmented sentences, as though language resists him.

His husks are vessels awaiting Futika's souls.

He believes silence is stronger than screams.

Some of his mortal works were preserved as forbidden relics in his world.

Disan admires Loire's artistry, considering fear a worthy form of creation.