1.No godmodding
2.One character per person, unless they act as a couple (AKA brother/sister, boyfriend/girlfriend etc)
3.This is a music-based RP, in which each character is granted control of one genre (or if neeeded subgenere) of music and/or powers based on such. No two characters can have the same genre.

I'll post a list of characters/genres here:
Chris Phylum: Gothic Metal (yes I'm specific already, but I have reasons myself.)

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A single small one-handed, silver bell fell to the ground in the blackness, shining like a single star tumbling from the velvet that was the nightsky. It fell to the brown wooden floor, shattering like not glass, but as if someone's soul were thrown away like trash. In what was seemingly a million shards it dissipated into, each one seemed to flutter away. As this transpired, a chanting voice like that of a monk resounded.

An ancient-looking sheet of papyrus was carried in by a man in a black robe, and torn in just as many pieces as the bell. The chanting had suddenly quit as the sound of a stabbing spear had resonated in the distance. Last was heard after were the last four lines of the monk's chorus:

Sound so pure, sound of Hell,
Nothing will be save the Angel's Bell.
Time will pass, events will come,
We will see it once again as one.

Meanwhile...

Chris Phylum was lying down in a field at night, curled up like a sleeping dog with his head resting on his clarinet. He was about to close his eyes, when he was startled awake by a soft, yet urgent ting alike to a bell. He lifted up his head, and noticed a minute silvery object, highly ornate, drop lightly in the field in front of him. Chris shuffled up, and obtained the piece. As he did so, he felt a small, light breeze from the desert glance around only his ears and mouth, although he was nowhere near such a place. A sound like that of a holy man whispered:

"Wonder through the frozen northern wastes, for there you shall hear the birth of a star, and the doom of the cosmos..."

Shocked, and feeling the presence a spiritual entity, he could only comply for he felt much seriousness in the voice. "Who are you? Sir!" No answer, only the desert wind again at the same spot. He set off by the night, somehow faintly catching a funeral chorus behind him. As he walked rhythmically, his pace had unoticeably started to slow to the beat of the dirge, and half of he the chorus evolved into a growling sound as fur started to grow across the back of his neck...

The voices rested with a harsh, cold wind right at the moment he let out a howl. He let out an almost devilish now fanged smile as he spoke in a rough manner, "I don't know what's going on... but this could be fun, muuurrrrruff..."