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Found 107 results

  1. -----Gregory----- Gregory’s heavy boot smacked on the ground as he took a large step out of the lifted 1980’s era Ford Bronco, modified with offroad tires. The truck was a redneck's dream and a liberal’s gas guzzling nightmare. The truck rattled to and spat as the engine died, letting Gregory fully observe his surroundings. A slight breeze rustled his shaggy black hair. He tugged at the bottom of his thick winter coat--a worn black, it was the coat of a worker, nothing aesthetic about it just sturdy and black, made to last. His rugged blue jeans spoke the same language, blue collar. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, taking in all the scents around him. They weren’t all too unfamiliar, the country of Kazakhstan isn’t all that dissimilar to certain parts of Russia--his birth nation. He could sense his pack-mates in the nearby area, ready to jump in wanted or unwanted if even the slightest sense of danger presents itself. He also smelt creatures more akin to death, “Vampires,” he spit on the ground, “fucking pieces of trash.” The heavily forested area of Kazakhstan would work in the their favor, however. In a worst case scenario, he doubted the vampires could keep up with even the weakest of his pack in this terrain. “That fucking slut.” Trisha said as she stepped out of the passengers side door, “Dumb whore fairy bitch.” She was smelling, seeing, and listening just as intently as Gregory, this was the first meeting that they’d ever been invited to, and they wouldn’t put it past The Order, the Fae, or any worthless mage or human to set up an elaborate cover to get them to finally lower their guard. “Thinkin’ we can’t handle ourselves out here.” Gregory turned to her, “What? It’s a stroke of luck they chose this place, if a fight breaks out we’d rip out that bastard Erevis’ throat the second we got into those woods.” “You idiot,” Trisha scolded, “this is to spit on us. To tell us that we need this to be on par with everyone. They still don’t take us seriously.” Gregory went quiet for a moment, thinking, “Fucking christ. It’s true when they say those ass fucks only give you the advantage and you can never take it.” “No, Gregory,” Trisha retorted, “You’re just a fucking idiot. Anybody with a brain should have known she didn’t do this by accident.” “Bitch.” Gregory growled but she was the Alpha-female. He wasn’t going to challenge anything she said, he may have been the Beta, but that didn’t mean he was about to challenge her. Logan came around the corner, dressed almost identical to Gregory with the exception of a tan coat as opposed to a black one. He was getting older, but still healthy. His brown hair having streaks of silver in it. He was a brute of a man, easily six foot four and built like brick wall. “Quit bickering, I wanna’ get the fuck outta’ here and onto more important shit.” When Logan received the invitation he had to be convinced by other members to come, initially he was just going to ignore it entirely, “I’ve got a bad fuckin’ feeling about this.” They parked the bronco about a mile out from where they needed to be and set out in a lax walk through the woods; follow the scent of the dead and cursed, angelic and demonic, benign and magical. “Hey, twenty feet ahead a clearing with a building in the center.” They kept to their trek through the woods as opposed to walking on the several different roads leading in. In a car they’re at a complete disadvantage, but on foot they were a force to be reckon. It’d be hard pressed for the strongest of foes to take on three werewolves of their caliber. As they approached clearing, Gregory observed that, there was no other cars or people anywhere in physical site. Logan was at his side a few moments later saying, “Jesus, what the fuck are we walking into.” -----Ryuk----- Ryuk was wearing a long black cloak that dragged as they walked down the disgusting back alley in Beijing. It was mid winter in Beijing at the moment and Ryuk had on a pair of black Nike hiking boots with a pair of tight black leggings on under his shorts. He had on a black turtleneck as well. His cloak completely enveloped his torso and legs, though, dragging slightly on the ground. If he put the hood up, it would cover his whole face too. Ryuk looked like a beggar next to the man he was escorting, Erevis, the strongest vampire alive. Erevis wore a classic black and white suit, custom tailored to his body. Just his shoes costs more than someone’s car, most likely. Erevis’ suit hid it well, but underneath it he was a powerful and muscular man. He was short for his strength, he was at least a foot shorter than Ryuzaki, and he had thick, black hair trimmed expertly at the sides and top. His face was clean shaven and smooth. Ryuk had witnessed on multiple occasions Erevis fight, in less than an instant the man has his shirt ripped from tensing muscles. They approached the location that Rasulka gave them and when Ryuzaki opened the door, Ryuk snapped his eyes open, it was a weird trick of interdimensional-space-time-manipulation that the Winter Queen pulled off, he was thoroughly impressed. They were given directions to a back alley in slums of Beijing. Once their, they were to find the back door to some ambiguous building, which was easy enough. When they walked through it they went from a dark and vermin filled alley to a ritzy and elaborate room. The room was snowing, on the inside, which completely through Ryuk off for a moment. The room was incredibly cold, too cold for it to be able to snow. He just summed it up as fairy bull-shit and kept following Erevis and Ryuzaki. This was literally the last place and the last thing he wanted to be doing. Erevis was a despicable worm of a vampire and Ryuzaki was a hot headed punk, he was getting tired of mopping up the blood when Ryuzaki carelessly let loose. An ornate knight greeted them and escorted them to the meeting chambers. Ryuzaki took careful mental notes of the whole route, already establishing escape plans if things here began to meltdown. When they approached the room that the Queen had decided to use for the gathering, Ryuk was again impressed with its grandeur. Say what you want about the tricksters, He thought to himself, but they’ve got one badass way to present shit. The floor was an elaborate form of white marble that Ryuk had never quite seen before, a massive silk turkish rug, rectangular in shape, was splayed out. On top of that rug was massive, circular, table of dark oak. Eight ornate wooden chairs--each having an iconic carving in the back--surrounded the table. The table was large enough so that there was an easy ten feet to the either side of each chair. The Queen herself sat in one chair, frost nipping at the edges of it, and gestured to one three chairs to the right of her. On the back of the chair was carved a bat. Erevis shook his head, “A bat? Really Rusalka?” Ryuzaki and Ryuk stood in the peripheral vision of Erevis, Ryuzaki to the left and Ryuk to the right. Lisanna sat in her chair, on the back of which was carved a sun, and her very presence radiated warmth, Ryuk, being caught in the direct center between the two, felt thoroughly annoyed at the confliction of temperatures. Behind Rusalka--the Winter Queen--stood her daughter and heir to the Winter Kingdom of Fae, Ezralda. She was young still, and clearly in a bit of a rebellious teenager stage of the fairy adolescence, Rusalka was dressed head to toe in an elaborate dress, ornate jewelry draping off her body. Ezralda had her hair in a ponytail and sweatpants on. Lisanna was clad in a form of lightweight leather armor. Brown in color. She wore no helmet, instead her fiery red hair flowed down. past her shoulders. Her dark green eyes were vivid and glowing, staring at Erevis. Erevis and Lisanna have had an interesting relationship in life, they’ve been allies for some time, and will most likely continue to be so. They’re similar goals and hope to maintain the status quo have led them to find themselves riding the same tide of battle on more than one occasion. It wasn’t so much Lisanna that Ryuk was trying to make heads or tails of, it was the man behind her. He’d never quite seen him before, he could only guess from his limited knowledge of the Fae that he was the Winter Knight, typically the Summer Queen would never get within speaking distance of the Winter Queen, so she sent the Princess and the Queen’s personal warrior, the Summer Knight, as her escort. The man was an intimidating figure. He cleared six feet easily, he was skinny, but completely toned with tight, lean muscle. There wasn’t a muscle on his arms or core that wasn’t completely defined. he wore a pair of heavy dark brown pants and sturdy boots. He was barechested and had a fur cloak carved from some strange looking feline-esque fairy animal. On each hip he wore a small hatchet. He had long, ghost white, hair that ran well past his shoulder. Dark orange streaks went down them. His eyes were completely black with an orange, feline, slit. Something that, Ryuk noticed, matched the young Ezralda’s right eye. Erevis laced his fingers and put his weight on the tip of elbows, leaning forward across the table. Footsteps could be heard as others trickled in. “Rusalka, I do believe myself and your daughter have been formally introduced before,” Erevis smiled, bone chilling gesture, his fangs prominent, “Ezralda--” Erevis cut himself, as it appeared the others had arrived and they were coming through quickly. -----Ezralda----- Ezralda’s arms were folded across her chest, she’d been standing in one spot for nearly an hour now, waiting to get this ridiculous meeting going. The werewolves walked through next and took their seat, an elaborate wolf’s head was carved on the back of their chair. She couldn’t help but appreciate them, the only institute of change she’d seen or heard of in years. She was curious though, How did my mother let them gain such momentum? A collective group of werewolves was something she actively fought against for some time. To change her mind in the course of ten years was unlikely. The man named Logan, the clear Alpha male, took his seat, folding his arms and not letting his eyes leave Erevis. Erevis remained still, staring back. The guards next to each other began to size each other up as well. The man with silver hair and purple eyes, Ryuk if she remembered correctly, seemed to be calculating everything. From the moment he walked through the room she watched him, looking at every window, every door, have a primary plan, a secondary plan, and even a tertiary plan. The man next to him was even more intimidating, tall and powerful he gave off a vibe of danger. The two body guards with Logan were not amused by the situation. They stood in solemn silence, as if Logan had threatened them to stay quiet. He clearly had them on a short leash here. It was evident he wanted to make a good first impression--strong, in control, organized. The Queen was going to provoke everyone here today, that much Ezralda knew. She had already started by making them think they were being patronized in the beginning.
  2. -----Sookie----- It felt really weird when Sookie stepped back onto the Prideux estate. It was so massive in its grandeur. The way she usually took was through the back--there was at least fifty acres of woodlands in the back of their property that gave way to the rolling hills and vineyards in the front. She doubted that that was a natural occurrence; more than likely they were magically induced. She’d seen these wards in this forest used once before and the sight of seeing tree branches wrap around and rip thirty people apart was extremely disturbing. Sookie was wearing the same thing she always wore, loose fitting clothing that her small frame hardly fit. A black hoody that fell a few inches below her thigh, over a pair of university sweatpants she stole from somebody because--for the thirty fifth time that she would undoubtedly never hear the end of from Elizabeth--she lost her enchanted necklace that let her keep her clothes when she transformed. She had on a pair of grey and pink Nike sneakers with a blue Nike check mark. She’d been trying to get here for nearly six months now. It wasn’t easy for her, especially considering that she was basically on foot the entire time and she started Canada. She was able to trade work for travel on a small trading boat that was crossing the Atlantic. Initially that was going to take her straight from--what was once Hallifax--to what is--and to some extent still is--France where it would have been a simple light jog for several days to the Prideux’s castle. Things, however, always have a way of fucking up for her. Somehow, they ended up in Norway for a quick stop that ended in her being kicked off the ship. Apparently a sarcastic werewolf didn’t sit tight with them. Especially with the lunar cycle approaching a full moon soon. Of course, though, they didn’t understand that she wouldn’t transform into an uncontrollable monster when that happened. The world has become significantly more tolerant of the supernatural, that much is for certain, however there are still stereotypes, like that one, going around. She trekked on foot--or paw more accurately--from Norway to France. The only stroke of good luck she got was when the remnants of the season adjustments caused by the fall and disarray of the fairies caused for the entire Baltic and North sea’s to be frozen over, making it so that she didn’t have to find a boat across and could just walk it. The palpable feeling of generations of power and magic rushed into Sookie as she crossed the threshold of their property--the ancestral wards recognizing her as a dear friend and enveloping her in their protection. The closer she got to the castle, the more anxious she got. “Three fuckin’ years,” She mumbled to herself, “Jesus Christ.” She sighed, “I do not feeling like dealing with her.” Sookie could already smell the familiar scents of the Prideux family. Elizabeth’s stuck out though, she had a strange smell--the smell of the atmosphere just after a serious thunderstorm, wet, calm, relaxing, relieving. -----Elizabeth----- A vapid pounding rapped at the side door, “Gaah,” She said out loud, irritated. She was in the middle of cooking lunch. Eli, who usually did almost all the cooking, was out with Jinkama, something about a new cave in Marseille that Jinkama wanted to go diving in. Now she was stuck with Willow--the most worthless human being in the world, besides when it come to killing--to prepare lunch for all the children. Which meant boxed macaroni, because someone she found a way to burn water. “I’m not playing these games with you deviants anymore! Stop it, I’m trying to cook you guys lunch!” Again the pounding continued and this time Elizabeth slammed the box of macaroni and cheese down and whipped open the door, “What?!” The breath left her body and she was left gasping for words as she saw it was Sookie, “Sookie! Oh my god!” Sookie opened her mouth to say something, but Elizabeth continued, “You’re pregnant?! Like third trimester pregnant!” “No, I’m just fat” Sookie said, walking through the door, bypassing the speechless Elizabeth. “ ‘You’re pregnant?’--”she imitated mockingly--”Yes of course I’m pregnant, dumby.” She paused, “And I’m hungry.” She went to the macaroni and cheese that was already prepared and grabbed a handful, downing it, “Jesus, did you burn the water?” -----Sookie----- It had been about four years since Sookie came back to them. She realized the only logical thing to do would be to mooch off of her rich friends. Which is what she was planning on doing for a long, long while. And, in her defense, there’s literally an unlimited amount bedrooms in the Prideux castle. So she doesn’t consider it mooching, and also they are the ones mooching off her fantastic presence and sense of humour. Her original goal, which was to find her own species of wolf, was a complete failure. She spent two years running through the rural wilderness of Canada with another werewolf clan, fighting and defending their territory from other werewolf clans that were moving in and trying to take over. When she found out she was pregnant, she knew she didn’t have much choice on where to go. The wolf clan that she associated with was in no way a stable home. Raising her children in the supernatural equivalent of a biker-gang isn’t something she was interested in doing, no matter how much she enjoyed the no rules life style. At the end of the day there was only one option, and that was back to France. Sookie had six children. Basically a liter. All six of them were completely out of control. They currently had very little control over their transformations. One minute a happy four year old would end up turning into an angry tiny werewolf because he had to go to bed. It was, needless to say, and extreme headache. The hardest part for Sookie though, wasn’t managing the wild demon-spawn-wolf children she had, it was watching her foul mouth in front of children. Currently, all the children were in their wolf form dashing across the country side with Sookie not far behind. They had to do this almost every day; three hours of heavy physical activity like running or else they’d destroy the house. Whatever omnipotent being mixed the angst, teeth, and claws of a puppy with a young child, clearly had a maid to clean up the messes. This time, though, they were going a little farther out. Sookie instinctively extended her sense and put her guard up a little higher--a life of living on edge and fighting will do that to you. Also, if the tendencies of a young child and a wolf mixed together are bad; it’d be hard to imagine the tendencies of a protective mother wolf with that of a human mother. A fox dashed out and Sookie cringed. All six children dashed after it, throwing caution to the wind. Sookie did as well, a steady jog, she wasn’t in her wolf form but she could still keep up. Her special species of werewolf letting her wolf powers transcend into her human form. As they approached the property line she began to try and calm the kids down but she knew it was no use. They weren’t going to stop until they get the fox. Weird, She thought, That thing's fast as fuck. She focused a little harder and realized that it didn’t have a scent, or a heartbeat, or blood. Ariel must be playing a trick on us or something Even as she said it she knew it didn’t make sense. They crossed the property line, and the wards faded, and her sense could fully expand, and she could fully sense the trap they’d walked into. The fox stopped cold and Arya, her daughter, the fastest of all the kids and with a thick, red coat. was centimeters away from her jaws catching it in the throat. In an instant Sookie switched gears and dashed forward. She lunged and caught Arya, somersaulting with her tucked in her arms. The fake fox exploded, sending shrapnel in all directions. She heard some of her children whimper as the metal shards stuck into them. Fortunately she had caught Arya, even with their healing abilities a blow like that to the head would have killed her. Sookie roared, “Go! Run back home!” Arya stood petrified for a moment, before Sookie threw her in the direction she needed to go, fight or flight taking over, and Arya took off. Getting back into the protection of the wards as quickly as she had left. Fortunately, they had enough werewolf in them to sense danger and react accordingly--to some extent. Sookie took in her surroundings while she ran towards her other kids, she could smell several different scents, nothing familiar, and heard seven different sets of foot steps. They were fast too. Almost before she could get there, there was an armored man with a large, two handed sword--wielding it much more capably than any normal human should be able to. The sword came down in a quick arc to catch one of her retreating kids. Sookie’s bare fist punched the edge of the blade and the metal broke on her knuckles, snapping clean off and stopping his advance. She whipped her hand back, throwing blood on the property line, alerting the wards--and hopefully everyone else--to danger. Three kids left She thought, all the others were back inside the wards. The next men had ropes and chains and scooped up her kids easily. They weren’t just regular chains and nets, they all had some form of silver laced in them--ending any fight they had to try and escape. Silver completely nullifies any healing abilities a werewolf has and essentially immobilises them. To a grown adult it’s torture, but to a child it’s worse. Sookie’s rage was palpable. Her hand began to transform and her fingernails elongated, in an instant she was over to them and her hand grabbed a man by the throat and crushed it, a satisfying crack and flow of blood ensuing. The next man charged her, dropping his silver laced chains and netting and reaching for his sidearm--an exquisite revolver. Sookie closed the distance in an instant and had her clawed hand through his chest and out the other side--ripping his heart to shreds. Two more across the property line, Her heart started beating faster, and her thoughts became muffled into verbalizations, “Joshua. Where’s Joshua?” She scanned quickly and effectively and she saw him running towards the property line, relieved she began to as well. Four arrows sped through the air towards Joshua. Sookie dashed forward, catching three and one digging deep into her thigh. She turned to see how Joshua was doing. He was so close. He had to be across the line now. She was devastated to see him in the hands of some strange man, unconscious. A knife to his throat. She slowly reached down and ripped the arrow out of her leg. In the next few seconds of silence the bleeding slowed and almost stopped. “Damn Sookie,” The man laughed, “We only got one. We were sure we could catch all of you with those guys. To bad I suppose.” The knife dug deeper. “Wait!” Sookie yelled, “Don’t.” She was mad. Extremely so. “What do you--” With a boom and clash of thunder Elizabeth was next to her; enchanted bow in hand, arrow nocked and ready to fly. Ariel a moment later. Most likely Willow would be hiding, waiting for an opportunity to strike. “Damn, we weren’t fast enough.” The man said, “Listen Sookie, you really shouldn’t have pissed off our friends in Canada. Now we have to off you and all your filthy kids.” Sookie didn’t respond. Instead she just shook with anger. -----Elizabeth----- Elizabeth had never seen Sookie like this before. She was in a seemingly uncontrollable fit of rage. Fear was driving her emotions and sending her almost rabid. The most frustrating part was that she was completely conflicted, if she rushed him he would slice Joshua’s throat open and then by the time they handled him, Joshua would surely have bled out. Seeing her speechless from anxiety, seeing her eyes wide with terror, and seeing this wretched filth with his hands on Joshua, made Elizabeth mad irate. Her enchanted bow quivered with power and sent surges of it throughout her arms, down her spine, fueling the already growing fire in her belly. She’d been practicing religiously with her magical weapon and getting to see some real world application was going to be fantastic. Ariel was standing to the left of Elizabeth, offset only a little. Elizabeth spoke to her in a careful and hushed tone, “When this starts I’m jumping back to get distance, about six hundred feet.” The electric bow line hissed with energy, as if anticipating what would happen next, “You won’t see it. Willow is in the shadows somewhere I beli--” -----Ariel----- Fifteen arrows hissed through the air, cutting off Elizabeth. Ariel spoke fast and controlled in an indecipherable gibberish, the arrows stopped halfway, floating in the air. Through her peripheral vision, Ariel saw a brief flash of light--Elizabeth was gone, electricity coursing through her veins and charging her movements to almost untraceable speeds. Three of the goons came out of nowhere and rushed Ariel, one approaching her head on, and two others coming behind him in a V shape, most likely to flank her. She spoke something incoherent to normal ears--this time significantly louder--and the arrows that were frozen in place dashed forward as fast as if they were just shot out of the same bow and skewered all three men--five arrows striking each man direction in the back of the head. She jumped to the side, towards Sookie and Ariel, who didn’t tend to show much emotion, was visibly shocked at to see that Sookie was still slumped over, silently watching her unconscious son. He was caught in an awkward transition halfway between wolf and man. She couldn’t move, her body physically refusing to move as the bastard held her son in iron grip, knife cutting into his throat and a small trickle of blood running down his neck. The man holding Joshua whistled loudly,catching everyone’s attention. “A Namer! Good lord we haven’t seen one of your kind in generations, tens of generations.” The knife cut deeper into Joshua’s throat and he whimpered slightly, semiconscious. “You’re forgetting I’m in control, Bitch. And now here I am with a fuck load of dead men. Our requests weren’t terrible, either, Sookie if we could have had a moment to talk things out. Sad. Now I have to kill your kids, your friends, and drag you ba--” -----Willow----- Willow, as always, was a complete blur of motion. Her tight black leggings, black tank top, and black hair making her a complete blur of darkness that was all but invisible in the shadows of the trees around them. She was behind him, her one small hand digging deep into his thick tricep muscle, emanating a strange purple glow and the other angled upwards at the base of his skull--aimed at his brain stem--hand was completely sheathed in a cold, black aura. “Thank god, our intel was correct, you’re here too.” He spoke, unphased by his seemingly imminent death, “Mommy and Daddy were really mad at you after--” “Shut up.” Willow said, “You’re not in control anymore” Her eyes were distant, cold, “Who are you?” Her questions were simple, concise. She wasn’t one to mince words when fighting, she didn’t really care all that much about her opponent. As soon as she got answers they needed she would waste him and they’d begin a speedy retreat back into the safety of the Prideux castle where they could figure out what exactly is going on. Seeing Sookie this off disturbed even Willow, one of the most callous of the group. Something was definitely off here about this man. During her Hiatus away Sookie became significantly stronger, stronger than her probably, and while Willow didn’t know a lot about wolves, she assumed that Sookie’s wolfish motherly instinct would have her ripping this man to shreds; but for some reason she was petrified. The man laughed. It became abundantly clear to Willow that nothing good was going to come out of this conversation. She was going to end it, quickly, she didn’t have time to torture the man as he deserved. Her hand was positioned in a spear roughly three inches from the base of his brain stem, in less than a second she could close the gap and end his life, then grab the boy, shake some sense into Sookie, and be on their way. Even before she began to contract her muscles to begin the motion to jab her hand into his neck, she became completely enveloped in a sense of extreme vertigo. She couldn’t make sense of the world anymore, she stumbled over and fell to the ground--not from lack of muscle control or anything along those lines, but just from a complete confusion. Everything she told her body to do it did the opposite. Everything she perceived and heard, all her senses, were backwards to what was actually happening in the world. When the equilibrium between the fluid in your ears and what your eyes physically portray aren’t in sync the human body can’t process what’s happening, causing an intense and disturbing motion sickness. She tried to recover and dashed backwards, which ended up being forwards and she completely collapsed, her legs doing the opposite. She laid on the ground, trying to make sense of things, hoping that the others weren’t experiencing the same effects. Three seconds, She concentrated, I need to recover and move in three seconds, if everything is backwards this is but a simple hurdle I have to jump. She gagged and held down her vomit, Push motion sickness aside. You can fight while you're sick, you’ve fought while you’ve been poisoned worse than this before. -----Sookie----- Whatever strange spell came over Willow, it actually ended up helping the situation as a whole. Willow’s purple aura of power creates a complete simulation of pain and, since the man holding Joshua could see willows hand engulfing his left tricep--the arm holding Joshua--he didn’t realize that when Willow moved it would move her hand, thus beginning the effects of her ability. Her purple aura creates the illusion to the body of an injury that doesn’t exist, so it was as if the man had a complete severed tricep and a partially severed bicep--causing him to lose almost all control of left arm. The arm holding Joshua. The only thing stopping Sookie from smashing his face in. The moment that Sookie’s bestial gaze saw him waver, like a wolf sensing the perfect moment to tackle its prey, Sookie had covered the distance in one massive leap--superman punching him square in the face. Her fist dug deep, smashing his nose straight back, flattening the bone and cartilage. Her fist dug deeper and deeper, snapping his head back and breaking his neck. He was dead before he hit the ground. The next moment Sookie was in her wolf-form, flawless white, bigger than a horse and had her son by the nape of his neck. When his instincts sensed Sookie switching forms, and probably the danger of the whole situation, even though he was unconscious he transformed as well. Granted, he was not anywhere the size of Sookie. At the age of four, his wolf-form was merely the size of a small, sixty pound dog. Sookie had his unconscious form by the nape of his neck and in the next instant she had her four legs splayed over Willow, providing a shield while she got her bearings. Willow carefully got up and ungracefully--something not characteristic to her whatsoever--regained her footing. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face pale, she was swaying back and forth, her right arm grabbing a thick handful of Sookie’s fur for support. -----Willow----- The next few things happened very quickly, and it was impossible for Willow in her current state to follow them. Sharp and loud crackles of electricity boomed around them, sound following seconds after flashes. The forest was completely eviscerated--tree’s split in half, lit on fire, and huge craters in the ground. Elizabeth and Sookie were both seeings things she could not focus on, slowly she was regaining her senses, pushing the strange sickness in the back of her mind. As clarity returned Willow read into a pretty disconcerting site. There was certainly a lot of something coming towards them, now what exactly that something was she couldn’t be to sure of. And also, whatever it was, there was a lot of it. A man shaped blob was running through the forest, as it got closer it’s features became more defined. It was a pinkish red, and it looked like a wax, partially melted, figure. Elizabeth’s arrows--which have an incredible destructive power, were simply passing through these things, then exploding into whatever was behind them. Leaving gaping holes in the creatures and then doing the brunt of their damage to the landscape behind them. Willow concentrated when she spoke to Sookie, who was just as confused about the situation as she was, “I’m going to climb on top of you, I can’t run as is. And that thing out there isn’t what did this to me, there’s a lot more going on here than we’re aware of.” The ground quivered and shook, separating in front of them and forming a gaping gash in the earth eight feet wide and ten feet deep. The brow of Ariel’s head had trickled sweat on it and she spoke to them, “Sookie what she said, Elizabeth and I will catch up to you two. Take care of your son. Elijah and Jinkama already have the rest back inside the castle by now. Sookie growled her agreement and under the cover fire of Elizabeth they dashed back towards the Prideux property line--probably about fifteen miles away. As they got closer they could still here the pounding thunder of Elizabeth’s blows. Crossing the property line was a relieving feeling; as soon as they did so the protective wards completely enveloped them with a palpable feeling of safety and security. Willow’s symptoms completely disappeared--balance and proper motor function returning to her in an instant. As they cleared through the forests bordering the property line and came upon the rolling hills and vineyards that were more iconic to the estate, Sookie picked up speed. The wind whistled by them and once Willow was completely sure she whatever curse was put on her had passed she jumped off Sookie and again was a blur--dashing forward faster than her, to the castle, providing an invisible and unnecessary escort. Just in case. -----Sookie----- Sookie Burst through the doors now in human form, sweatpants and a hoody on thanks to Elizabeth’s handy-dandy-form changing charm. Joshua was in her hands, terrified but alive. He had his face burrowed into her shoulder and she tried to remain calm, for his sake, as she looked for her other children. She could sense they were all here--she could smell and hear them. “There all in the west wing of the building, in the wine cellar. Elijah is with them.” Willow was next to Sookie now, walking down the stairs with her as she went towards the sounds of children. “Cern is on the roof, Jinkama is at the main entrance. I’m going to go to the back entrance to watch for Ariel and Elizabeth.” And at that Willow was gone, as silently as she appeared. It never ceased to amaze Sookie how she could evade every one of her sharp senses--even her sense of smell. Sookie came through the doors and tried to smile for her kids, but when she saw them all she wanted to do was cry. She had never felt as much terror as she did right then at that moment. Elijah stood up, “I’m going outside, Sookie, stay here.” Elijah was barely wearing clothes. He had been jerked awake in bed, presumably. He had on a pair of basketball shorts and combat boots that were untied. His well muscled chest and arms completely exposed. He had his sword in hand and in an instant he gated away from her. -----Elijah----- Cern was with Elijah when he appeared next to Jinkama. They were at the main entrance. Elijah spoke, anger in his voice, “They went south, we’re gonna track them down. Elizabeth and Ariel are already back as well.” Jinkama smiled, “Damn right we are! It’s Bull shit that they saw all the fighting and we got none of it!” Cern nodded and then snapped his head. Two figures walked towards them. “What the fuck?” He said, baffled, “How are they not incinerated by the wards.” Elijah’s eyes widened, “They’re nobody we know.” “Well then, they’re going to die,” in an instant a bow and an arrow materialized in his hands and Cern dashed forward, firing off arrows at the figures. Elijah in an instant was behind him his sword sending lances of emerald green energy all around them. Worse yet, more figures approached from the west side of the estate. Nothing familiar to any of them. “How are they getting through the wards?” Jinkama cursed and dashed off.
  3. Night had fallen, and I was alone. The sun’s last rays had long since guttered and died, and the wan, sickly light of the crescent moon did nothing to dispel the darkness all around me. If anything, it only served to accentuate it, the twisted tangle of power lines and ventilation piping above and around me casting long, ragged shadows all around. Somewhere, a ventilation fan ceaselessly droned a mantra of monotony, sporadically interrupted by a dull thump from within a vent or the rustle of a plastic bag borne by a stray breeze. The cloying stench of old garbage assaulted my nostrils, but I pressed on, my footsteps echoing in the enclosed space. This place sure felt a hell lot less foreboding in daylight. Then, I heard the footsteps. The first time I heard it, it was a muffled thumping, near-imperceptible against the background noise – perhaps nothing more than a figment of my imagination, making up boogeymen where there were none to be found. Then, I heard them again, a slow, staccato rhythm of heavy boots hitting asphalt. Goosebumps rose on my neck as a shudder went down my spine, and I redoubled my pace, keeping my gaze locked straight ahead. It wasn’t safe here. I had to get home. I couldn’t let them find me. The footsteps were getting louder. Closer. They were gaining on me. No, I couldn’t look back. I couldn’t hesitate; couldn’t waver. If I looked back, they’d be upon me in an instant. Just keep walking, and don’t turn around. I could hear the footsteps clearly now. They couldn’t be more than ten paces behind. Perhaps with my back turned, they wouldn’t notice it was me, not in this light. Just a little further; I could already see streetlights. Once I made it out into the open, they wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on me. I heard a muted ringing, like a moist finger dragged around the rim of a wineglass, and pain lanced up my leg as my toes crunched against an obdurate wall where there had been nothing but thin air moments before. In the dim light, I could barely make out the transparent, ephemeral veil, its surface iridescent like a sheet of cellophane, but there was no mistaking the two lines of chalk drawn across the ground, the space within glowing with lambent light. I couldn’t read the cursive, flowing script etched in between them, but their message was clear. “You Cannot Escape.” Slowly, I turned, a lump forming in my throat as my gaze fell upon the length of gleaming steel leveled at me. The silhouette of its wielder was indistinct in the gloom – male or female, young or old, I couldn’t tell. All I could clearly make out were their eyes, pinpoints of blazing blue like stars in the void. Then, they spoke. ... “Next station: Matsuura. The doors will be opening on the left.” Erin’s eyes snapped open with a start as she jerked upright, her eyes flitting back and forth nervously. A frigid sensation ran down the nape of her neck, and she reached towards it tentatively, her fingers running along the smooth metal of the plain silver necklace she was wearing. It felt cold, almost icy to the touch. She took in her surroundings, and to her relief, they seemed almost disappointingly banal – just a train carriage, its plastic bucket seats almost all unoccupied, the floor gently shaking and jostling as it sped down the tracks through the countryside. Huh, a dream. Ride must have lulled me to sleep. Then, her brow crinkled as her mouth twisted into a frown. Hold on, Matsuura? That’s, like, three stops east of home. And this is an eastbound train. So… uh… like, carry the two… and… um… damn. I think I missed my stop. And I’d promised I’d be back home on time for dinner, too. Pausing for a moment to stretch, she bent over and picked up the book lying on the floor before her, carelessly dropped when she’d dozed off. I guess I’m just going to have to get off at the next stop. Matsuura, right? Should be there in like five minutes. She flipped open her book, leafing through the pages to find where she’d left off. … “Next station: Matsuura. The doors will be opening on the left.” Erin chuckled, her face reddening a little. “L-lewd,” she murmured, flipping the page again. Despite herself, she let out a little gasp, her blush only intensifying. Then, she froze up, eyes slowly sweeping from side to side, before heaving a sigh of relief. Well. No one saw that. Isn’t this train taking a little long? … “Next station: Matsuura. The doors will be opening on the left.” Erin glanced at the side of her book briefly – there weren’t many unread pages left. She sighed as she glanced back at the page – with so little left, there was no way this volume wasn’t going to end in an unsatisfying cliffhanger. She gazed out of the window for a moment – just the same old monotonous tapestry of fields and little country roads, now bathed golden by the rays of the setting sun. Hold on. Sun’s almost down? I'm supposed to be back by seven! She fished inside her bag, pulling out her phone and prodding at the screen. Seven-thirty. Shit, shit, shit! I’m late for dinner! I’m so dead; I’d made a promise to Sis, too. She frantically swiped at her phone screen, anticipating a deluge of missed calls and reproachful messages – and saw nothing. She glanced at the top of the screen – instead of the usual stack of bars was an icon she didn’t see often. No signal? What the hell, this is Japan! We aren’t even in the mountains! “Next station: Matsuura. The doors will be opening on the left.” And what’s up with you, you piece of junk? Shouldn’t we have passed Matsuura hours ago? And what’s with the lights? It’s practically night already and they still aren’t on! What kind of shoddy train is this? She looked out the windows again; the light outside was already dimming as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon. The ubiquitous forests and hills that dotted the Japanese countryside looked decidedly gnarlier and more shadowy than she remembered, too... Darkness fell as the train rushed into a tunnel with a roar. Erin blinked in confusion as she got to her feet, clutching her bag closer to herself as she stepped towards the doors. Wait. Wait… there isn’t a tunnel before Matsuura… What’s going on? A bead of sweat streamed down her cheek as her gaze slowly swept the darkened train from end to end – it was empty, and the carriage doors on either side had slid shut, their windows dark and opaque. The trundling of the train’s carriage had taken on a sinister cadence, the carriage shaking and rattling in time with its gradually-accelerating staccato rhythm. The PA system screeched a burst of static and Erin winced, her hands clamping over her ears unbidden as it played once again, the sound tinny and crackling. “Next station: Matsuura. This train service terminates… at the next station. Thank you for… riding… with us…” There was a hiss and a rush of frigid air, and Erin slowly raised her head, gazing wide-eyed into the darkness behind the now-opened door between the carriages like a deer caught in headlights. From the darkness, a pair of eyes, its irises pinpoints of electric blue like stars in the void, gazed right back.
  4. Rebuild of Mitsuba Academy

    [Long time no see, everyone. Sir Vey Lance here. After a long period of inactivity on both Mitsuba threads, the four of us consisting of wstfgl, shipspassinthenight, myself and Trioctium have decided to revive our brain child with everyone being in one club this time. Due to a large number of key NPCs and PCs being absent/changed/replaced/reskinned, we have decided the best way to do so would regrettably have to be a full retcon. Here's hoping we can last for a bit longer this time] On the outskirts of Eaglesham, a sleepy old town in the middle of nowhere, was an ancient church dating back to the Victorian era that had seen better days. Pedestrians walking the only road leading into the village from afar could discern with naked eyes the blasted out sections of the church, scars left behind by the aerial bombers after World War II. Vines crept up along the crevasses and forced their way into the gaps, further tearing the shambling structure apart, yet not a single animal chose to make the place its home. Now and again, a large storm would sweep through the region, and people would open their door the next day expecting the church to be demolished by the gale. And against all odds, the structure remained standing. Gossip amongst villagers had it that a frightening ghoul moved between its crumbling hallways and hid behind the pillars, waiting for any man or woman foolish enough to lay foot inside. Being a grotesque creature, he would go green with envy at the sight of the healthy person and proceed to break his limbs, cut his face, and tear away the hair until the person’s appearance was as revolting as the ghoul’s. In reality, this ‘ghoul’ was nothing more than a dehumanization of the homeless vagrants and travelers without money seeking shelter inside. With the recent implementation of the Camden benches, the sidewalk spikes, not to mention the upcoming European Monsoon, it was nothing strange to see these people flocking toward the old church. No, what was disturbing was the fact that ever since one week ago, some of them never made it out. --- The green field in the distance was gone. It had been buried under waves of rolling white mist, as if a patch of fair-weather cloud had fallen down to earth. Pulling her mantle closer for warmth, Constable Faith looked up at the old church. The courtyard was enclosed by a tall iron fence, leaving no way to exit or enter aside from the main cobblestone walk out to the field. The vegetation around the steeple seemed hideously warped somehow, some of them even appeared mummified, yet wet with moisture from the gathering mist. Some sort of poisonous substance seeping into the ground and was absorbed by the plants, she thought, but what kind? Though three years of being in law enforcement had sent her patrolling down every dank nook and cranny Eaglesham had to offer, it was an unspoken agreement that the old church was far enough from the main town to be considered out of the local police’s jurisdiction. This was to be her first time entering the infamous landmark. As a precaution, her fingers inched somewhat closer to the pistol holstered at her side. Faith took a step forward, then turned back to look for her partner. “Willis, stop lollygagging and get over here,†she said, beckoning the tall man with auburn hair who looked as pale as if he had just seen a ghost. Beads of cold sweat formed steadily on his quivering forehead as Constable Willis stammered out a response. “D-Do we really have to go in there, Faith?†“Not this again...Citizens have reported a lot of strange stories about this church. You were there when Mr. Turner came into our office just now, weren’t you? It’s our job to verify the truth behind these rumors.†“That daft old hobo? Faith, dear, do you even know why the fella is homeless in the first place?†“Do enlighten me.†“Because he spent every last penny from his pension on hooch instead of his rent. Trust me you, I got called to see his arse kicked out of a local pub once every fortnight for drinking more than he could possibly pay for. Heck, I’m no lightweight myself and I got tipsy just breathing the same air with him just now.†Faith sighed and readjusted the cap around her bundled up hair. “Just get to the point, Willis.†“Alright, sure. My point is, maybe his wife got straight fed up with him and left. He couldn’t cope with the very thought of it, so he invented this fantasy about how, in the dark of night, a ghoul showed up in the church and kidnapped her. There, case closed.†Silence reigned for a moment. “Willis, are those really the words of a responsible police constable?†she asked in exasperation. He nodded almost sincerely. “My pa always told me to work smarter, not harder.†“Let’s say your theory is true, then there shouldn’t be any ghoul or ghost or monster lurking within the old church. And thus no harm would befall us for investigating it, yes?†“W-well, there’s always the off chance that I’m wrong and the place is home to something freaky…My pa also said it’s better to be safe than -†he answered then paused, finally noticing the determined expression on Faith’s face. “Fine, fine, let’s do it your way.†She smiled and walked ahead to push open the double door. A nasty stench, something like a cross between rotten food and stale air, greeted the pair’s noses as darkness gave way to mountains of dust over box pews, altar, hourglass pulpit, and sounding-board. Ropes of cobweb stretched among the pointed arches of the main hall up in the air, while on the ground various discarded boxes of food could be found lumped together into mounds at the corner. Willis pinched his nose, while Faith squinted at the traces of footsteps and knocked over furniture. Seemed like a mass of people recently rushed out of the church in a panic not too long ago. Sploch….sploch… Something made a continuous dripping noise in the dark. Faith looked around and found herself staring at the source soon after: a small pool of viscous, tar-like black substance on the ground. She gazed up. It seemed to have leaked down to the ground floor following some cracks along the ceiling. “Lots of doors in this place,†commented Willis. “I noticed,†said Faith. “Reckon we should split up: you check all these rooms on the main floor, I will head upstairs and see what I can find. Afterward, we can make a trip to the dock and ask the local hobo community if they could give us some information about this place.†Willis didn’t seem to like the idea of splitting up, though he stayed quiet, nodded and complied. Faith made her way up the flight of creaking stairs and entered through the single door at the top. It opened up to a decrepit room filled with dust-covered books and rotten wooden furniture. Up here, light barely spilled in through the cloudy windows on opposite sides of the room, courtesy of the mist and the lack of sunlight during a rainy day. Yet, some kind of heat wafted in through cracks in the wall and through the floorboards beneath, setting off a vague alarm somewhere in the back of the constable’s mind. “That idiot Willis, now all his crazy ramblings are starting to make me lose my nerves,†she muttered. Turning on her flashlight for a source of illumination, she searched the area methodically, only to be perplexed by the apparent size of the vestry room she was now standing in. It was grand, yes, though going by the dimensions of the floor below and the stairs placement, she was expecting the second floor to be somewhat bigger. This place was built shortly before the war began, and it wasn’t unheard of for churches to offer shelter to civilians and wounded soldiers. I wonder…she thought idly, knocking the walls around the room and along the corridors lightly with the back of her flashlight. The staccato taps broke away the silence reigning over the second floor, dead and dulled and dispersed. Time and again Faith would crack open a small patch on a wall, thinking that she had found something, only to realize that termites had done a serious number on the material beneath. Feeling somewhat ridiculous, she tapped on another wall, this one made out of rocks, and- Hesitated. It didn’t feel as if she had knocked on something completely dense judging by the hollow noise it produced. Eureka. Faith tucked the small flashlight behind her ear for light, then examined the wall more closely, looking for a loose brick or a leverage of some sort. Only she wasn’t finding it. Up and down, left and right, this end of the hallway to the other, nothing seemed to stand out. Frustrated, she gave the wall a little kick at the end of her search, finding it sliding inward a little. Okay, that was anticlimactic… The room within was small, cramped and reeked of something far worse than the stench of garbage that had been lingering in the atmosphere. The room was coated in equal proportion of mold and a patina of that black, sludgy grime she had discovered downstairs. Faith thought she could discern some articles of clothing laying within the pool of dark fluid, and the moment she stepped into the room, she could feel a wave of dizziness and nausea washing over her mind, as if a dozen voices were ringing simultaneously in her head. Some young, some old, some hoarse, some clear… I WANT TO GO HOME! DEAR, WHERE ARE YOU? IT IS SO COLD. SO COLD. SO COLD. SO COLD She stumbled out of the room, her mind struggling to process the massive amount of sepulchral echoes going through it just now. Somehow, just somehow, she knew on an instinctive level what the black sludge was. It was the missing people, all that remained of them. They were reduced to nothing more than a primordial fluid, having lost every shred of humanity that gave them shapes and thoughts. Her stomach churned, and she could feel the acidic taste of digestive juice overflowing out of her throat. Faith struggled to keep her lunch down and hastily reached for the radio strapped to the side of her coat lapel. It let out a squealing buzz of static and fell silent. She cursed. Bootsteps, crunching just around the corner, somewhere further down the hallway. “Dare da? De te kinasai.†A man’s voice called out in a language unbeknownst to her, hushed and harsh. Judging from the noise, he was dragging behind him something massive, the object scraping against the stone tiles with every step he made. Training took over at this point, and Faith quickly drew the .38 Automatic Colt Pistol, aiming down the iron sight as she did. There were so many questions and confusions going through her head as of this point, but in her mind one thing was clear. Whomever, whatever it is that lurks within the old church as of this moment, it can’t be anything good. “Stop, or I will shoot!†she announced, moments before the person came into view. “Move forward and put your hands where I can see them!†He stopped, as if gauging the situation, but eventually stepped up next to one of the windows where the overcast was still providing some light and revealed himself. It was a young man, not a day over 20 if he was even that old, and judging from his dark hair and skin complexion, Faith would place him to be either Chinese or Japanese. He was wearing a vicar’s attire dyed red and white, which strangely enough spotted metallic vambraces and greaves like some sort of protection from the medieval age. A silver cross hung loosely around his neck, the object glowing with a faint hue in the dark. What drew the majority of her attention though, was the massive thing he was dragging behind which, while definitely was in the shape of a greatsword, was more akin to a gargantuan slab of steel attached to a hilt. She doubted the youth could so much as lift the thing above his head, let alone swing it. “This place is not safe Miss, you should leave it as soon as possible,†he spoke calmly in clear, if somewhat stilted English. “I will be the judge of that. Who are you and what are you doing here?†pressed Faith. He clicked his tongue, which annoyed her greatly. “My name isn’t anything of import. And I’m here on a mission.†“A mission,†she repeated dryly. “Yes. A monster had recently taken over this old church as its lair. I have been tasked with its eradication by my Order.†Faith squinted but didn’t lower her firearm. “A likely story. Alright if you don’t feel like telling me your name, I’m Constable Faith. Regardless of your goal here, we have had records of people being kidnapped and possibly assaulted in the surrounding area. I will need you to follow me and my partner to the precinct. Don’t worry, we are not suspecting you for doing anything unlawful as of yet, but you could have witnessed certain events that would provide us wi-“ A bloodcurdling scream coming from somewhere down below interrupted Faith’s speech; shriek of such base, feral intensity that it could only have come from someone being in mortal danger. She spun, recognizing the voice to be that of Willis’, though her gun remained trained on this suspicious individual. “Did you come here with another person, Miss Faith?†the man asked, a flash of genuine worry evident on his face. She didn’t answer his question, which was enough. “Then we have no time,†said the youth. He let go of the blade he was holding on to, but instead of dropping to the ground with a loud thud, the weapon shattered into millions of shimmering particles, which rushed toward the pendant hanging around his neck in a silvery stream. Before she could even process what was happening, let alone react, his arm had already wrapped itself around her waist, and her whole view of the world was disappearing down a spinning tunnel, into a vortex of warped images and those sad, haunting voices filling up the silence saying IT FOUND ITS NEXT MEAL. "Teleportation could be a bit dizzying. Hold on tight." Somewhere between a nanosecond and a day later, Faith opened her eyes and immediately wished she hadn’t. She was standing at the entrance to the church, but right now there was one particular thing that she distinctly remembered not seeing when she set foot into this place. Vast, otherworldly and loathsome, she was looking at a screaming, writhing patchwork of a monster: a hideous, warped agglomeration of countless human faces stitched together into one gigantic head, itself twisting and melding into a grotesque parody of a smile. It was not in possession of any feature that could be labeled eyes within its sockets, but spotted two pools of spiraling darkness brimming with the thick, black sludge she had seen earlier. The monster’s grin became unnervingly broader, showing to the rest of the world its grotesque collection of deformed, rotten teeth, like tombstones erected over a graveyard. It turned to look. “What is this?†she muttered, stunned, moments before a gigantic blade crashed through the ceiling and severed the creature from top to bottom. It reacted violently, and from the creature came a piercing sound – a roar that blended the sound of tearing metal and wounded beasts, a chthonic noise that forced into her ears and tore her nerves. More of that sludge started to ooze away from the creature as its body slowly degenerated into a swarm of cockroaches, spiders, beetles and flies. The bugs scurried away in every direction, leaving behind almost no physical trace of the creature that was once there. Faith thought she could hear voices from the black tar beckoning for her to get closer, that she could see and recognize some of the faces that seemed to bubble up to the surface somehow. She reached out with one of her hands. “Stop.†commanded the youth from before, Willis' body draping across his shoulder like a sack of flour. He came closer to Faith before gingerly laying her partner down on the ground. The constable was still breathing, though he seemed to do so with some degree of difficulty. Broken ribs most likely, she thought. “What the hell was that thing?†she asked again while looking over Willis’ wounds. “A Thrall. Slivers of a Demon summoned into our world through twisted rituals and blackest magic. With its master being…indisposed, the only thing left in the creature’s mind right now is an insatiable desire to consume, which it quenches through the flesh of the poor people who have been seeking shelter within this church.†“T-then, this black fluid on the ground is…†“Yes, that is called ectoplasm, all that remains of the Thrall’s victims. Although one have to be somewhat magically gifted to even be able to see such a thing. Please refrain from touching it under any circumstance, Miss. More often than not people who are killed due to supernatural reasons would leave behind psychic echoes. An Altered like you run the risk of being possessed especially.†His calm, composed demeanor sent a chill down her spine. Given any other day, if someone had approached her with so much nonsense, she would have definitely phoned the local asylum to see if they had any escaped patient. But now that she had seen such a creature with her own eyes, had heard the cries of the dead bemoaning their fates, Faith wondered if she was the one going mental instead. A thousand questions swam to the surface of her thoughts. “Did you kill it?†she asked finally. He shook his head. “No, not yet. Just barely grazed the creature’s core with my last throw. It is wounded and thus is trying to escape and reform itself. I can ensure it will not leave this place, but before that I will need you to take your friend and make your escape from here as fast as you can.†He then turned back to regard the church, and his voice took on a different quality. It sounded colder, crueler, more vindictive. “And as for you, demonspawn. Run away, hide away, take your last stand. Nothing you do from this point on will make a difference. In the end, it always comes down to the Knights of the Cross to return filth to where they rightfully belong. Tonight, Raiha joins the hunt.â€
  5. A quick run down of things so far: Four relaxing years have passed since the defeat of Ezralda and subsequently the fall of almost all the Fairy Kingdoms. The world is slowly putting itself back together, complete transparency with the supernatural. A powerful Vampire whispered and known by names such as the Guardian of the Night, the Night Listener, the Savior of the world, has since disappeared. His whereabouts completely unknown to even his closest circle of friends and allies. It appears, however, that the world does not need him or his allies; there are no supernatural threats, Ezralda essentially neutered every powerful organization--good or bad. One thing doesn't add up though, and this one thing is the reason why none of them have rested since their battle with Ezralda. If the world is so seemingly peaceful, then how could the future unfold as disastrously as Arafel told them it would? The biggest worry on everyone's mind is where is Ryuzaki? Is this the start of the strange future that they are not present in? There is only one women and one man who has the answer to that question. Michael and Ariel plan on taking this secret to their graves, which hopefully is later rather than sooner. If Ryuzaki doesn't return, then they have but one future, one timeline to follow, one destiny. Alright so that's just a quick run down of where we'll be starting things off at! I'm trying to get the IC up and then I'll get my character sheets up here and whatnot. Go ahead and post a brief description of your faction and what they are about and stuff too.
  6. The Demon Horde

    Sasha was running through what used to be--well i guess it technically still is--New York City. Well, running is considered a relative term; eight of the nine metal appendages protruded from Sasha’s back, each one bounding forward nine feet and propelling her small frame--suspended four feet off the ground--forward. The ninth appendage stuck in the air, poised to strike, the tip glowing a fierce red. Sasha always considered abandoned cities to be the easiest places to fight at--for her anyway. Her multiple limbs made disadvantage of taking tight turns nonexistent. She could turn on a dime without slowing down, instead the metal appendages on her back compensated for the turn but digging higher into the walls. For her an urban environment was certainly advantageous. At least when she wasn’t lost it was. The legs struck fast and stuck into the side of an old brick building, launching her up and along the wall, several strides later she was a few stories in the air, atop what was at one time an apartment building. The radio ear piece crackled in her ear, “Sasha, this seriously isn’t that hard. Just precede to point Charlie taking route Indigo and from there the extraction point pretty much points itself out. Weren’t you listening during my pre-mission brief?” She peered over the edge of the building, barely breathing so as to not give herself away. There was at least fifteen two’s and a three down there. Again, the radio, “I’m assuming you’ve got contacts. When it’s clear establish comms with me. I’m going to try and get in position to provide support for you. I’m following the commotion and I’m pretty sure I know where you’re at.” She put her hand on the thin cord that dangled from her ear piece and pressed the talk button, “To answer your question no I was not paying attention during the mission brief.” An audible sigh left her breath before she continued, “I can’t give you an exact location, I’ve got about fifteen contacts, thirteen two’s and two threes. Possibly a four in the mix.” “Copy. Fifteen.” Sasha could tell now that he was running by his heavier breathing over the radio, “Don’t engage until I--” She cut him off with the talk button, “What? Engage?” A smirk crossed her face, “Alright!” Her mechanical legs contracted downwards, bring her feet only centimeters of the ground, and then exploded upwards, over the edge of the building, and downwards towards the demon horde below. She landed like a pouncing spider, silent and fast. The ends of her many different legs aren’t necessarily sharp, but when what are essential metal poles are thrown from seventy feet in the air they are obviously going to do some pretty nasty things to flesh and bone when they make contact. Again as she landed all the legs contracted to absorb the full impact of her fall--this time her feet touched the ground with a limp thud, being pushed in what looked like awkward and uncomfortable directions. Three of the legs each went through a separate demon. Each of them was unlucky enough to get caught somewhere that was relatively fatal--one in the head, another through part of his chest, and then another got caught in the throat. Blood, ichor, goop, shit--whatever you want to call the inside of demons--splattered on Sasha; leaving quite an unpleasant smell. Fucking Christ, I’m so sick of this goddamn bullshit. This shit is so disgusting! The three appendages that had initially impelled the demons she left planted down, she would worry about moving once the element of surprise wore off. As it stood she had a solid three seconds to get heavy casualties on their side before moving. The appendage in the center of her back whipped up and illuminated a dangerous red. With shocking force and the speed of a striking cobra it lashed forward and through the center forehead of another demon that was a few feet in front of her, leaving a small and precise burning hole through it. The top two appendages on her body body began to move simultaneously as her “stinger” as she calls it repositioned itself. These appendages looked different than all the others; they were noticeably thicker from beginning to end. With an audible click each snapped open. The “pincers” as Professor Caranack referred to them as, were three separate pieces that joined together into a point. They were her only defensive measure really, as the rest of her appendages were suited and designed for movement--jumping, grappling buildings, quick bursts of speed. If met with a frequent substantial amount of force or for extended periods of time, they wouldn’t last very long at all. This alleyway is perfect, a little more damage and I’ll reposition Her pincers shot forward and collapsed around two of the demons, they wriggled and tried to get free, but in an instant her precision stinger was through their two foreheads, delivering a quick and lethal blow. As soon as her stinger reset itself she began to move, her six legs scrambled to the side and back, she’d purposefully taken out the demons in the front, so that she’d have an easy route to escape through, just by backing up. Or so she thought. One of the demons closed the gap at an impossible speed. She withdrew her pincers, repositioned her legs to prepare to redistribute the force of his momentum, opened the pincers and caught the demon by the chest with each pincer. The length of each piece of the three pronged appendage was roughly three feet long, so to say that each fully extended pincer was on the torso of this monstrosity really spoke to its size. Her legs groaned under the pressure of trying to stop its forward momentum, Shit this is definitely a four. I can’t take it by myself, gotta get out of here.. She knew she had to reposition herself, if it got in-between her pincers and her body she would be skewered. She doubt she’d get a good shot with her stinger, and even if she did Four’s are ridiculously resilient--even with a hole through its brain it would probably still be enough to kill her. The remaining twos and then the still undecided number--Probably just a big two, she thought, I doubt there’d a four and three together and it’d be even more unlikely to have a four and four She’d lost sight of that one now, her main concern was repositioning herself now, no time to worry about that. She exhausted her window of surprise and if she didn’t move soon she’d pay the price. Her stinger lashed out and back, exploding backwards silently and cut through the air and into the top corner of the same apartment building she had climbed earlier. The stinger smashed easily and quickly through the brick wall, then it expanded outwards once through and retracted slightly, light a grappling hook. With the force of a heavy, mechanical wench, Sasha was launched backwards and upwards into the air. In less than a two seconds she was repositioned, hanging from the side of the apartment building, working her stinger free. The level four demon was not far behind her, while the level two demons wouldn’t be able to scale the side of a building--at least not at any rate that could keep up with her--the level four definately could. He was closing the distance fast, and it was just now that she got a good look at it. It was about twelve feet tall, with stubbier legs and extremely long arms and proportionate torso to those arms--built like some type of demonic gorilla. It’s langley arms ended with no skin, just hands that were carved from bone into sharp, terrifying points. It used those claw-bone-hands to travel the nearly fifty foot walls with ease, putting Sasha in his crosshairs. Sasha’s pincer finally broke free and she lunged, across to the other side of the alleyway, her legs and pincers scraping down the wall trying to get traction as she lost ground and she scrambled her way back up. She reached the top of the building and knew she didn’t have any time to waste, the level four would be up there in seconds. When she scanned her surroundings for an exit, she lost her breath. “Well, fuck.” She said as the number four launched up behind her, just as she was about to launch across to the other roof. “There are two fours working together?! What kind of shit is that. Or are you a three? Fucking Jesus Mother Fucking Christ.” “Move to the left!” Her radio screamed in her ear, and she did so without thinking. Her body being whiplashed by the sudden unconscious change of momentum. The level four that was in front of her came under heavy fire as his chest was ripped apart by the burst fire of Jace’s rifle. “Run forward!” Her radio crackled on again and she did so, taking massive eight to twelve foot bounds with her legs. She pressed the button and talked back while she retreated, “I’m not watching my back you got me?” As she spoke a smoke grenade launched itself out of the window of a slightly taller building--well it’s not so much a window anymore, now it’s been shredded by gunfire. She turned and didn’t need to be instructed on what to do next, they’d practice this scenario multiple times. ---------- Jace was only a little off with his timing. He needed to cover a lot of distance in a really short period of time. The he got off a full magazine from his rifle into the chest of the level four that was in front of her, and then switched to his side arm and got off another full clip into the back of that weird gorilla thing. Sasha would have a small window to lunge on top of the building he was on, grab him, then they’d go over the open circuit and get the rest of them here to take on this small cluster and be out of this city. The resistance doesn’t have the capability anymore to take on a four. It’s no wonder why they called for help--two in one area is almost too much for Sasha and Jace to handle by themselves. The smoke bomb is actually a special potion crafted by the Professor, it only looks like a fog to people, but to demons it’s like being inside a badly burning building. It would give Sasha the perfect opportunity to reposition herself and then they can draw them to agreed upon location to confront large numbers. Jace reached the top, barely a trickle of sweat on his forehead. He was in great shape. His modified M-4 rifle was hanging from his sling and was already reloaded. He was reloading his similar side arm when he bounded through the doorway to see Sasha. Her appendages were contracted downwards, keeping her low and out of site from the two demons. Her dark brown skin was sweaty and she was definitely going to need a new set of clothes. They were covered in ichor. “Alright,” Jace said, “you ready?” “Yah,” She panted, picking her tank top and gagging, “Fucking nasty mother fucking fuckers.” Her yoga pants were equally stained and she realed at the sight of them. “Alright,” She extended her pincer and a leg and Jace precariously perched himself on them, wobbling at first and then getting a steady balance and shooting platform. He was facing with his back to her, his rifle butt to his shoulder, Sasha fully supported his weight. When he was situated she wrapped her stinger across his waist to hold him more securely. This, as well, is something they’ve practiced and executed a number of times. It left Sasha almost completely defenseless. Her pincers were now needed to keep her balance and hold Jase, while her stinger was now completely occupied. But she could make up for that, her legs could cover some serious distance when needed to, giving her the ability to reach a high velocity quickly. Jace tuned his radio to another channel, it hung on his belt, and then he pressed the talk button that dangled from his in front of his chest. “All channels, Scorpion and Rogue moving to point Echo Juliette down route Indigo. Again, Scorpion and Rogue to Echo Juliette.” Sasha lunged, her legs straining under the extra weight when they smacked down on the ground, this time her chest hitting the ground before her legs could recover. She was now in front of horde of level two’s and moving fast. The sound of suppressed gunfire erupted out the side of her ear as Jace let loose into the lesser ones--easily mowing them down. By this time, the smoke up above cleared and the two level fours were furious. Wounds barely making them flinch. Jace watched in awe as they jumped the nearly seventy feet to land on the ground without flinching. It didn’t matter though, when it came to running, there wasn’t much of anything that could match Sasha and her many different legs. They sped away with the demons in hot pursuit. “You realize Jace that no one knows what the fuck you’re talking about right?” In Between shots Jace was able to get out, “How?! Every pre-mission brief we label the main routes, the extraction and entry points, and the rendezvous points!” “Not all of us are ex-military, ya know. And it’s stupid. Just, like, tell them where we are going. And quit with the dumb code names.” Jace tried to speak but again Sasha cut him off, “And seriously I doubt they have any idea what road ‘point Indigo’ is. The roads are already named for god sakes. Just say 8th. Because we are literally on 8th street.” “Damn it, Sasha!” Jace pressed the talk button, defeated; “Moving down 8th street, to Times Square.”
  7. The story of our past is one that is etched in bone by the point of a blade. For as long as can be remembered humanity has waged war against one another. Factions formed and rose up against one another to control the land and make their mark as rulers. Nations rose and fell, but the fighting never ended. In order to employ more effective means of fighting one another, the ninja were born. Expert fighters who specialised in sneaking in to enemy territory undetected using special equipment and tools, and no short supply of skill. At some point in time humanity discovered chakra, and with that ninjutsu was born. Utilising the inner power of chakra, ninja were capable of strange and powerful abilities which were used to crush their foes. In the end ninja only made the fighting worse, and so the war went on. It was at this point that the ninja decided that change was in order. The ninja of each country worked together and formed their own Hidden Villages within each nation. Inside this village the strongest of the shinobi was appointed as the leader, awarded the title of Kage. The Kage of each village would take requests from all people, and decide which ninja to dispatch on any mission, considering the money being offered, the difficulty of the mission, and whether the mission should be taken at all. And so it is now that each village thrives thanks to the ninja who do the difficult tasks that the every day folk cannot. This is a story of one such village. A village in the vast forest of the Land of Fire. A village hidden within the leaves. Konohagakure [Chain Explosion - Naruto The Last OST] Footsteps cut through the trees with the speed and grace of the wind. Three figures dressed in black moved under the cover of night, their presence concealed. As the trees began to thin out they spread out and went off in different directions. One figure was dressed in tight fitting, black gear, with a metal breastplate, hidden under a dark purple poncho that flowed in the wind as she hopped from tree to tree. Finally she breached the forest and the cover of the leaves. She wore a black mini-skirt and long stockings, a pair of simple black sandals on her feet. Her head was covered by a purple scarf that was tied around her forehead like a bandana, long red hair flowing out from the back of it. She landed on the soft grass with barely a sound, and sprinted across it and ducking behind a nearby formation of rocks. She stopped to catch her breath under the white, taking sharp breaths under the white, featureless mask she wore over her face. She chanced a glance over the rock and examined her target. A short distance away was a stronghold, a fort manned with guards along it's walls. The woman gave lifted her hand and gave three distinct signals, communicating to her comrades that were hidden nearby. As soon as she had done so, two other black shapes shot out from nearby hiding places and tore off towards the fort. The red-haired shinobi followed suit, moving from her hiding spot and sprinting through the grassy plain that lead to the fort. When she came to the wall she tapped off the ground with her feet and simply continued running, moving up the wall with the same speed and grace as she had on the ground. Then as she reached the edge she grabbed it and pulled herself over, flipping through the air and landing with a soft thump on top of one of the guards, pushing his head hard in to the floor to knock him unconscious. Her fingers felt around his neck for a pulse, and quickly found one. It was faint but the man was still alive. The shinobi pressed on, speeding down the fortifications outer wall until she found an opening and leapt, descending down on to the tiled roof of on of the buildings, allowing herself to slide down it's inclined side, and dropped off the edge. She hit the dry dirt with a tap and stood up, looking around. She heard the murmuring of two people talking. It was coming from her left, from around the corner. It was growing louder. She moved to her right and around the corner of the building, pressing herself tight against the wall, and listening. The people were talking about something irrelevant, she didn't bother to make a mental record of it, but instead listened to it's volume. She waited until the noise had faded, and then she moved from the wall and continued on her path. Inside her head was a mental map of this fort, one constructed by the hard work of multiple reconnaissance missions. She knew where she was, and where she must go. She made her way quietly across the fort, moving in between the buildings for cover. Before long the had reached the building she needed and moved round to the side of it. Then she scaled the wall and grabbed the ledge of a window, slowly pushing it open and climbing inside. She adjusted quickly to the warm glow of the lamps lighting the inner corridor. The light would completely invalidate her camouflage, but she was on the home stretch. She had to keep moving, trusting that her comrades would be in position as well. She moved down the corridor and took a sharp right, and descending the stairs to the lower floors. Then she made her way to a sliding door and pushed it across, finding herself in a fair sized room with grass mat floors and a small shrine on the other end. She walked across the room to the shrine and inspected it. The ornate lion figure was familiar to her, she felt around it carefully until she found the hidden latch she knew was there. She pressed it and a small compartment popped open at the front. It was empty. She froze for a second, surprised by the realisation. They had found it. If they had done so, had they known the importance of the statue after all? How much did they know? Perhaps they could even anticipate that she would be here. If that was the case then... Alert to the danger, she turned to leave the room, only to find her way barred by a lone figure. The young man was slim with athletic muscle. He was dressed in a tight fitting, sleeveless top, and had long black gloves on each arm. He was wearing baggy cargo shorts and sandals, and he wore a strip of cloth tied around his neck, with a metal plate over the front showing a strange symbol on the front. His hair was a grayish white and cut straight at his collar. "Pleased ta meet ya, Anbu-chan." He said, with a sly fox-like grin. "Don't tell me ya gotta skedaddle already? I was hopin' ta show ya our special brand of hospitality." The red-haired shinobi's hands blurred as she formed a particular set of seals. There was a popping noise and clouds of smoke exploded at either side of her. She darted towards the figure, and from the smoke came two more shinobi, exact copies of her. She reached the white haired shinobi and pulled a kunai from her pouch, swinging it at his throat. With his sly grin still in place the shinobi leaned back casually, the tip of the kunai narrowly missing his neck. Then he pulled his leg up and out, kicking her in the chest and sending her back in to the room as one her clones came at him with another kunai. He nimbly dodged the strike, allowing her arm to stretch over his right shoulder. He lifted his arms and grabbed hers, locking her in place, before birning up his knee and catching her in the stomach, causing the clone to explode in to smoke and disappear. Then the ninja dodged the blow of the third by ducking down and sweeping out his leg to knock her feet out from under her. As she hit the ground he brought his hand down and clasped it around her throat, choking her until she stopped struggling and disappeared with a pop. Meanwhile the real version stood up from inside the room. She gingerly rubbed at her stomach for a moment, and then readied herself. "Shadow clones, eh?" The white haired shinobi said with a grin. "Ya gonna have ta do better than that." "I'll show you just what I can do!" The red haired shinobi said quietly. The she sprinted forward and brought her leg up for a kick to his side. He lifted his arm to block it and struck back with his other arm. A flurry of punches and kicks ensued as each of the ninja brought blows to one another, before finally, the white haired ninja brought a Kunai out from his own pouch, and stabbed it violently in to her neck. The red-haired Shinobi froze in shock for a moment. Then, like the others, she disappeared with a pop and a burst of smoke. "Another 'un!?" The white haired ninja said through clenched teeth. He spun on his heel and sprinted from the building only to see the red-haired shinobi rejoin her comrades, and sprint off over the wall of the fort. The white-haired shook his head, but another sly grin appeared on his face. "Doesn't matter. Konoha are in fer some bad times ahead." [Morning] A young boy sat himself up in bed, stretching and letting out a big yawn. His hair was medium length and spiky, and he had a pair of dark blue eyes. He got out of bed dressed in white pajamas with little green lizards on them, and shuffled over to his closet. He took out his clothes and got dressed, swapping the pajamas for a pair of black three-quarter length shorts, a pair of black sandals, a fishnet vest, and finally a white jacket with a high collar and black stripes down each sleeve. He left his room and made his way downstairs where he found a plate on the table with a bowl of rice and a small note next to it which read: Jin Had to head out for a while. Left you some breakfast. Good luck today. Dad Jin smirked and lifted the bowl off the table, gobbling up it's contents in mere seconds. Then he patted his stomach and let out a relieved sigh. On the table next to the bowl was a forehead protector with the leaf-like symbol of the village he lived in, Konohagakure. He picked it up and examined the symbol for a moment, a bit of pride swelling inside him. Then he took the forehead protector and tied it around his head. In Konoha, to be given a forehead protector was a sign that an academy student had graduated, and had began their path as a ninja. Jin had become a Genin, the first raknk of ninja, and today would be his first day of working in that role. He was to meet his new Jounin leader, an accomplished ninja, who would guide him on his journey, along with another Genin who he would be paired with. He turned around to leave his house only to see the door open. A women stepped inside, dressed in leggings and a knee-length purple skirt, and a black t-shirt, with a purple scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. The woman had dark blue eyes and red hair just like her son, and when she caught sight of him she gave a soft smile. "Oh, you're still here." She said. "I've just got back." "Mom!" Jin exclaimed, "I was just about to leave. I have my first mission today!" "Yes, I remember." His mother said. "How did yours go?" Jin asked. "It...well you know I can't talk about it." she replied, giving an awkward and forced smile. "Nothing you have to worry about anyway." Hideo Jin was the son of two well known ninja. His father, Isamu, was a Jounin assigned to serve and protect the most important ninja in the village, the Hokage. His mother, Saya, was a member of Konoha's elite special ops ninja known as the ANBU. He knew very little about what she did, and most people in the village didn't even know of her position. While operating as an ANBU shinobi she had a code name, and a mask, to protect her identity. However to Jin, Saya was just his mother. She was a kind woman who was very encouraging, and a better cook than his father. He struggled to picture her dressed in the garb of a ninja, going on dangerous missions. But he knew she was strong, so strong that he wanted to be just like her. "Do you know who my leader is?" He asked Saya. "Of course I do." Saya replied with a smile. "But it's more fun for you to find out on your own." "Aw c'mon...is he tough? I mean I guess he has to be or...hey wait is it a girl!?" "Go find out for yourself." Saya said, and she gave her son a hug. "I have faith in you, I know you'll do well." "Thanks, I'll make you proud." Jin said. "I already am." Saya replied, and she let go of her son and let him leave. "Go on, you don't want to be late." "I'll tell you all about it when I get back." Jin said with a confident grin. Then he walked out the door. When it closed behind him, Saya's warm smile faded and was replaced by a cold and distant look. She had failed today, failed in a mission that could bring great danger to the villagers of Konoha, and danger to her son. She wanted to sleep, but she knew that she would have to leave again soon. She had much to report. Jin walked over the steps in the street near his house and made his way in to an open market area. Beyond that were rows of houses, buildings, watch towers and beyond that was the academy where he had trained. Even further still was the Hokage's office, and beyond that a great rocky mountain that stood over Konoha. Etched in to the stone were the faces of each Hokage that had served the village. In total there were now 7 faces up on the wall, the rightmost one being the current Hokage. Jin wondered if, perhaps, his own face would be carved upon that mountain. Or maybe it would be his partner who would have that particular glory. He knew she was a girl, but he hadn't been told who it was yet. He wondered if they would be good friends, or perhaps they would be rivals. There seemed to be endless possibilities in front of him, and for the first time in a while. he was totally excited about his future.
  8. Apocalyptic Eutopia

    Apocalyptic Zombie Scene: The virus started like any other one you would see in the movies. It was February 2nd, 2016 and a day like no other shitty winter day. The new started to broadcast a nation wide alert, warning people to stay indoors and not to venture out to investigate why tornado sirens were going off and the small shake of bombs moving pictures on the shelves. Of course no dumb ass American will listen to the news because why? We are hard headed Americans that's why. The infection itself as developed by Nelson Trount, an egotistical maniac who listened to no one and wanted to create a war weapon against Germany because he was insane and wanted to begin war just to watch the whole world suffer. Of course he was the first person to be consumed by the virus when one of his lab technicians, Samual Lane- bless his soul for kill Nelson but damn him for killing the world, was showing it to Nelson and found the leg of a table in his way and the virus in his hand on Nelson's face, which turned into Nelson consuming Sameal's face in return. Now, the virus spread by bite first, then the blood in the sewers contaminated most water supplies and finally spread around the world. And from here you can probably guess what happened and how the world turned into a giant shit hole just like the movies. God, why do people not educate themselves with the film industry? "Hey Z! Which way we heading?" Spark radioed from the gas tanker driving behind me. "Yeah, Spark honestly needs to piss." Blaze spoke right after him from the same tanker but from the passenger seat. "Me and Ellie and absolutely craving a shower." Taliea's radio, still static filled entered the channel from the armory truck. "Baby, never say that word again.." Malik laughed his deep barrel laugh, filling my truck with a light vibration from the ambulance and medical truck. "Guys, We are heading west like we have been for two days. The next large city is only 37 miles out and we should hit it by high noon. We can find a hotel and get everything figured out there. and Blaze, quit with your twin mind shit, I do not need to know these things." I called back to the convoy filed behind me as I drove the lead truck towards the city of Lily, Indiana- a small town in the middle of the woods but big enough for all of us and small enough for only 20-30 zombie freaks. My convoy consists of the Twins, tow boys around the age of 19 or so that share some weird brain waves and drive the large tanker that holds the gas we use to fuel the trucks. Their unique names come from where we found them, lighting zombies on fire and watching the burn up. Blaze would douse them in gas and Spark would light the lighter to set them on fire. Taliea is 22 and is our lead weapons expert due to her military background and her love of shooting things. Ellie is a little girl we picked up a while ago in a warehouse filed with electronics an such which she found a way to connect to make a security system. She is brilliant for only being 12 years of age. Malik is our lead man in medical care and such due to him being one of those amazingly attractive black nurses you dream of having if you ever have to be admitted into a hospital, he's around 29 years old. I am the leader of this nice rag tag group due to me being someone who has seen the most horror movies and the one who got every single one of these bastards out of a shit storm of zombies or saved their life in some other way. I am Zoey Redbird, but most of the team just calls me Z for short. I am an expert with a sniper and throwing knives. This is my crew, and they are idiots but I love them I think, and we have been surviving this place for over 2 years together. Let's hope we can survive many more until this fucking world decides to get it's shit together. ( I am giving you free range to create a character of you liking and we can talk about how we can fit him or her into our roleplay. This can be romantic and sexual if preferred due to me liking both men and women. Once you have read everything and you have figured out your character you can share it with me and we can get the roleplay going. All I ask is that you are somewhat literate in english and can provide some type of detail to the posts we have. I am not expecting a novel nor a paragraph but I would like something more than just one word or something like that. If interested please let me know so I can get your info and give you time to develop! I also have reference photos as well. http://imgur.com/a/Hwk4P )
  9. Apocalyptic Utopia

    Apocalyptic Zombie Scene: The virus started like any other one you would see in the movies. It was February 2nd, 2016 and a day like no other shitty winter day. The new started to broadcast a nation wide alert, warning people to stay indoors and not to venture out to investigate why tornado sirens were going off and the small shake of bombs moving pictures on the shelves. Of course no dumb ass American will listen to the news because why? We are hard headed Americans that's why. The infection itself as developed by Nelson Trount, an egotistical maniac who listened to no one and wanted to create a war weapon against Germany because he was insane and wanted to begin war just to watch the whole world suffer. Of course he was the first person to be consumed by the virus when one of his lab technicians, Samual Lane- bless his soul for kill Nelson but damn him for killing the world, was showing it to Nelson and found the leg of a table in his way and the virus in his hand on Nelson's face, which turned into Nelson consuming Sameal's face in return. Now, the virus spread by bite first, then the blood in the sewers contaminated most water supplies and finally spread around the world. And from here you can probably guess what happened and how the world turned into a giant shit hole just like the movies. God, why do people not educate themselves with the film industry? "Hey Z! Which way we heading?" Spark radioed from the gas tanker driving behind me. "Yeah, Spark honestly needs to piss." Blaze spoke right after him from the same tanker but from the passenger seat. "Me and Ellie and absolutely craving a shower." Taliea's radio, still static filled entered the channel from the armory truck. "Baby, never say that word again.." Malik laughed his deep barrel laugh, filling my truck with a light vibration from the ambulance and medical truck. "Guys, We are heading west like we have been for two days. The next large city is only 37 miles out and we should hit it by high noon. We can find a hotel and get everything figured out there. and Blaze, quit with your twin mind shit, I do not need to know these things." I called back to the convoy filed behind me as I drove the lead truck towards the city of Lily, Indiana- a small town in the middle of the woods but big enough for all of us and small enough for only 20-30 zombie freaks. My convoy consists of the Twins, tow boys around the age of 19 or so that share some weird brain waves and drive the large tanker that holds the gas we use to fuel the trucks. Their unique names come from where we found them, lighting zombies on fire and watching the burn up. Blaze would douse them in gas and Spark would light the lighter to set them on fire. Taliea is 22 and is our lead weapons expert due to her military background and her love of shooting things. Ellie is a little girl we picked up a while ago in a warehouse filed with electronics an such which she found a way to connect to make a security system. She is brilliant for only being 12 years of age. Malik is our lead man in medical care and such due to him being one of those amazingly attractive black nurses you dream of having if you ever have to be admitted into a hospital, he's around 29 years old. I am the leader of this nice rag tag group due to me being someone who has seen the most horror movies and the one who got every single one of these bastards out of a shit storm of zombies or saved their life in some other way. I am Zoey Redbird, but most of the team just calls me Z for short. I am an expert with a sniper and throwing knives. This is my crew, and they are idiots but I love them I think, and we have been surviving this place for over 2 years together. Let's hope we can survive many more until this fucking world decides to get it's shit together. ( I am giving you free range to create a character of you liking and we can talk about how we can fit him or her into our roleplay. This can be romantic and sexual if preferred due to me liking both men and women. Once you have read everything and you have figured out your character you can share it with me and we can get the roleplay going. All I ask is that you are somewhat literate in english and can provide some type of detail to the posts we have. I am not expecting a novel nor a paragraph but I would like something more than just one word or something like that. If interested please let me know so I can get your info and give you time to develop! I also have reference photos as well. http://imgur.com/a/Hwk4P )
  10. Roleplay Partners!

    Hello fellow RP's! I have a roleplay that have been working on for quite a while and I am now looking for a group of individuals who would like to join me i this amazing RP. It is a RP which involves 8 characters and therefore 6-8 people who would need to roleplay along with me. I am trying to involve as many people as I can due to knowing that many people have an extensive imagination and the ability to create an amazing roleplay within a Topic. I would be glad to have each person interested to message me letting me know the basics (gender they prefer playing, age, and other such things) so i can try and find the right pre-picked characters for you to play for this RP. I will share the roleplay and the characters with each of you who are sincerely interested in Rp'ing with me and others. I also have a request that one you get a character that you use the image I provide for you as a signature so each person knows who you are and things like that. I have not quite figured out this cite yet, and i am blushing with embarrassment, so I would love if someone could help me figure out the signature details. So, I am excited to see who is interested in this and to see what we can make out of it!
  11. Plot: Your character(s) and Emily Darrell are exploring the rumored location of an extraterrestrial artifact supposedly discovered and worshipped by an indigenous tribe. According to sparse legends and anecdotes, the artifact granted the tribe's leaders them a far-advanced knowledge of technology, enabling them to plan advanced structures, predict the weather, and heal sickness. However, the tribe is described as having went extinct for unknown reasons and practically nothing about them is known, to the extent that the most prominent historians and archaeologists consider the legends surrounding the tribe to be complete falsehood. The theory of the "lost tribe" and their artifact is supported by the existence of a small lake - a "pond" much deeper than it appears - with radioactivity and unique cyanobacteria believed to have originated from an asteroid strike. Additionally, two interesting artifacts were recovered from the Pacific ocean: a stone tablet with etchings filled with gold, and a solid-gold tablet with uniform circular cut-outs. Both items are rumored to be parts from an ancient computer - a bus and punch card of sorts - estimated to have originated from the coast of Alaska. Coincidentally, the artifacts were reportedly lost at sea off the coast of New Zealand (conveniently in proximity to the Bougainville Trench...), en-route to an Australian lab to be carbon-dated, and were not known to be recovered. Setting: Alaskan Aleutian Islands, present day. Temps are in the mid 40s and there is rain this time of year. RP Expectation: I'm aiming for a Tomb Raider/X-Files level of realism, which can still include a lot of Sci-Fi elements. Ideally, we can post every 1-3 days, and I'd prefer a few short paragraphs or a single large paragraph. The rolling and pitching of the small ship made sleeping easy for Emily. For the others? Their mileage may vary...Hopefully, though, they were well-rested as they had a long day ahead of them. Emily was awakened by the vibration of her phone between the mattress and bunk frame and though the ship's interior was cold and dark, she didn't delay quietly getting out of the bed. The tiniest amount of moonlight shown through the porthole so the room wasn't completely black and she didn't bother with a flashlight. Being the prepared person she was, she had laid her clothing out the evening before and was able to dress in the almost-dark except her shoes. For now, she could scuff around the ship in her slippers. The hinges of the door of the sleeping quarters made a shrill squeal as she opened it - she forgot it did that - but on her way out, toiletry bag and a journal in-hand, she wore a determined knitted brow as she closed it as slowly and softly as possible. After she brushed her teeth, tossed a few handfuls of nearly-freezing water on her face, and threw her hair back into a ponytail, she went to the galley to prepare a bowl of oatmeal - unsweetened, save a handful of berries - and eat it while studying maps and the day's itinerary with the ceiling lamp swaying gently overhead. It wasn't often Emily took off on a "flight of fancy" trip based on info that was practically a possible hoax. Practically every surface feature of every inch of the earth had been mapped with a satellite, so she was skeptical that they would find any ruins or "lost"-anything. She would consider the trip a success if even a fragment of the lost tribe's civilization were recovered. At the very worst, it was a sight-seeing voyage. It was difficult enough finding someone who would drive their small ship to the location. Local fishermen weren't as critical of her motives as she expected the scientific and archaeological communities to be, but many questioned her and suggested she was just a silly girl for wanting to do such a thing. Today, they were going to hike toward the pond for five miles, then set up a base camp and begin surveying for possible places to dig. The forecast reported damp, rainy weather, which tended to make the cool temperature soak in even more; Emily advised everyone to bring wool, wool, and more wool to stay warm. The boat was returning in a week and nobody should get frostbite during that time. Until then, they were on the island with no cell coverage and very spotty radio, but everyone would have a two-way radio. EDIT: The types of characters I'm looking for this RP are pretty open, but some tropes might be adventurer, action-geek, I'm-just-an-intern, stubborn skeptic, conspiracy theorist, or a poseur survivalist. If you're interested in it but need additional information PM me and I can add it. I'm sort of new at creating new RPs so I'm probably missing things.
  12. Curtis Archer was an early riser. He accounted this trait to being the only child of a single father. When his mother had passed away when he was just a boy it had left all the responsibility to his father. And from his early teens Curtis had decided that the least he could do was make breakfast for his father every morning. So there he stood in the kitchen of their old house in the woods, the playing, with bacon and sausage sizzling in a pan over the stove. He put on a pot of coffee and placed 4 slices of bread in the toaster. With a few minutes to spare he went in to the living room which was furnished with old, floral patterned furniture and wallpaper, which hadn't changed since his mother's passing. He examined himself in the mirror on the wall. He was a clear-skinned 24 year old with dark hair that was swept back over his head, and shaved short at the back and sides. He was dressed in an old, blue Denver Broncos t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, and battered old boots. He gave a soft grin that vain twenty-somethings often give themselves, as he scanned his look with his hazel eyes. He wasn't a bodybuilder or anything, but he had a toned, muscular frame. The kind you see on labourers. He heard the dull thumping of boots across the floor from up the stairs and made his way back to the kitchen. The toast popped out of the toaster and he laid it on two plates, along with the bacon and sausage. He poured two cups of black coffee and put them on the small table in the kitchen, and sat himself down. His father entered the kitchen and sat himself down at the table without a word. He was a man in his late forties with long, brown hair that had soft curls at the end, and a thin stubbling beard that had areas of silver running through it. "Morning, pop." Curtis said before taking a bite of toast and washing it down with some coffee. Sam Archer gave his son a cursory glance before he took a sip of his own coffee. He swallowed and paused for a moment, lingering in the moment. "Morning." Sam said finally. Then he picked up his cutlery and began eating his breakfast. "You look tired. I heard you come in late last night" Curtis asked his dad. "Broken down sedan out on the other side of town. Battery gave out." Sam explained. Curtis nodded. The Archer family ran their own business in the small Colorado town of Darkpine Valley. Sam and his two brothers, Cain the eldest, and Dominic the youngest, ran a successful auto-repair service. Cain and his eldest son Marcus dealt with external business side of things, working with stock suppliers, networking with dealerships and securing repair service deals with other companies. Sam ran the shop, and Curtis helped him along with Cain's youngest son Justin. Dominic helped out when he could, but having twin six year old boys made his life a bit hectic and so he and his wife Claire weren't always available. So for the most part it was just Curtis, his dad and Justin who did the day to day work. On the surface it was a typical family business that had grown from the hard work of three brothers born and raised here in Darkpine Valley. However the Archers weren't quite so ordinary. "How are you feeling, boy?" Sam asked. "The change is coming two nights from now. How are the urges?" Curtis shrugged at the question and took a bite of bacon. "Nothing out of the ordinary. I think I have a handle on it now, I've been doing this since I was 16." He replied. "And I've been doing it since I was 16. Don't think it gets easier with age, you need to be ready. Sometimes it's fine, other times it can get real ugly. You understand me, boy?" "Yeah, I get you, pop." Curtis said with resignation. "So...that being said I was going to go to a party up on Carrow Hill tonight." "Nope." Sam replied without skipping a beat. "Uh...I wasn't asking?" Curtis said. "I don't care. I'm telling you no, boy." Sam said. "You get some booze down you and see a pretty girl, well...at this time that could be dangerous." "I'm not like that." Curtis said, a little angered by the comment. "No, you're not. But the wolf inside you...it's an animal, Curtis. It wants to eat, and hunt, and fu-" "Dad!" Curtis snapped. "I just want to hang out with some friends. I won't be drinking anyway. I've got to drive home. Thing about being a mechanic is you see the aftermath of having a few beers ad taking a drive. I'll be a regular old boy scout, I promise." Sam chewed on his food for a moment and then gave a sigh. "Fine." He said. "...I couldn't stop you anyway. Some Alpha I am, can't even control my boy." "You know you could." Curtis replied. "Like if you laid the ol' howl on me. You just won't, y'know, because you're a cool dad." "Alright, boy you already got what you want so you can stop kissing my ass." Sam replied and he cracked a smile. "Finish your food, we've got work." "Sure thing, dad." Curtis replied, before scarfing down the rest of his breakfast. Later in the day Curtis was at the auto-repair garage in town. Sam had gone off in his truck to deal with another breakdown which left Curtis and his cousin Justin in charge of the garage. Justin was the same age as Curtis but looked pretty different. He had blonde hair, styled up with a spiky look, and he was wearing a tight, white t-shirt covered in grease stains, and a pair of old jeans. His form was athletic and muscular, but unlike Curtis he actually went to gym. Justin was a typical gym-junkie, obsessed with his looks and outside from work and the gym his only major concern was partying and chasing tail. This was an Archer who let his inner wolf take the wheel most of the time. But he was family, and he wasn't a complete asshole. The in the garage was on and Justin was trying to look busy while basically slacking off, meanwhile Curtis was underneath the old fiat they were working on, on a runner. Justin was looking at himself in the sideview mirror of the car and carefully adjusting the strands of his hair. "So did your old man shoot you down then?" He asked Curtis. "Actually he was cool with it." Curtis replied from underneath the car. "What about yours?" "My dad doesn't give a shit." Justin replied, still focused on his hair. "You know what he's like. He's happy as long as I settle down and make him some grandkids before he kicks the bucket. Besides he's way more concerned with Marcus right now." "How come?" Curtis asked. "Well...it's a pretty awkward thing to talk about with you. I mean your dad..." "I'm not an idiot." Curtis said, and he slid out from under the car. Justin tossed him a rag and he began cleaning the oil from his fingers. "Cain's hoping Marcus will lead the pack when the time comes. He's probably the right choice anyway." "Yeah, maybe." Justin said. "But Dad wants Marcus to have a family. He says 'a lone wolf is a weak wolf' and then they end up arguing. It's kind of bullshit to be honest." "I guess." Curtis said. "I mean Uncle Cain just wants the best for the family, right? I mean...he has a point." "What because having babies makes then man? Give me a break." Justin snorted. "No it's just...it keeps him grounded I suppose. You know what we can do, if you abuse that power then innocent people get hurt, or we get discovered." "Yeah well with all that said I think I'm just gonna keep partying and worry about the consequences later. I'm too young to be thinking about marriage and kids. All I want to focus on is tonight. Everyone is going to be there. You never know we might be able to get you laid, finally!" "Yeah, thanks, but no thanks." Curtis said with a sheepish grin. "The last girl you set me up with had an adderall addiction." "Yeah but she was pretty hot though..." Justin said. "Hey anyway that wasn't what I meant earlier. I meant college you moron. Have you even asked Sam yet?" "Nope..." Curtis said. "He'll just tell me it's pointless. Plus money is tight..." "Excuses, dude." Justin said, shaking his head. "I mean what do you do? You work and go home. I'm paying for my gym membership, my cell phone contracts, my ride, my weed, dates, parties, whey protein, new clothes. All you do is read books and play that beat up old guitar. You must have savings, man." "A little..." Curtis admitted. "Look I'll think about it." "You think too much, dude. Just do." Justin said. "...Alright, I'll ask him tomorrow." Curtis said.
  13. A Roleplay Parnter?

    Hello, I am looking for someone to do 1x1 Roleplays with. (Or more than one person.) I enjoy gay Rp's and honestly, It's what I'm most comfortable in doing, although I do play the bottom in the relationship. I like to use real pictures of my characters in my Rp's. (So I don't use any anime photos and such.) I love to write detailed and long posts but of course I don't expect everybody to be the same and like any other Rper I wont be doing this all of the time. Please be semi- literate if you are to Rp with me as I can't stand text talk and such. I'm not picky if you mispell things because we all do it so don't worry about it. I do also like to get intimate in the Roleplays, so sex and such will be involved. If that isn't your thing then sorry to disappoint. If you're interested then please get in contact with me. Either through here or any other site. My kik is artichealy. Thanks for taking the time to read this and I hope to hear from you soon.
  14. Welcome To The Jungle A Mini-RP Rules of Mini-RPs No character sheets, no indication of interest required. If you like the story, just jump in with any character you wish.There will be no OOC thread for this RP. All OOC chat will be enclosed in square boxes [like this] either before or after your IC post.If your character dies, you may enter with another character at any time.RP posts are limited to a maximum of 400 words for Graduates only. Students can write as long as they wish. This is to encourage shorter and more frequent posts!For Students, posts below 300 words cannot be used as part of your Graduation attempt.Post often and have fun!The Story So Far Contrary to popular belief, the world didn't come to an end at the end of 2012. In fact, that Mayan prophecy hadn't even predicted the end of the world to begin with; quite a few long-dead astronomers must have been spinning in their graves. However, what the prophecy had predicted was the end of an era and a transition to the next. Well, that actually happened. At first, the change was nearly imperceptible. Just a few isolated incidents of animals disappearing, inexplicable tremors, out-of-season weather and the like. However, as the portents increased in frequency and more and more strange things came crawling out of the woodwork, the truth began to emerge -- there was more than just a grain of truth to the tall tales of magic and monsters in mankind's collective memory. Magic and the supernatural were indubitably, sometimes terrifyingly real, something made all too clear when a botched assassination attempt revealed the newly-elected governor of California to be a dragon in disguise. Something had been keeping the influence of the supernatural from influencing human society, but it seems to have failed, giving supernatural beings -- now dubbed the Others -- free rein to enter the world. The world's governments responded swiftly, leading to the establishment of the Thulsson Foundation, an international paramilitary organization dedicated to monitoring, and if need be, eliminating Others. The year is now 2015. The Thulsson Foundation has recently started offering considerable rewards for subduing dangerous Others deemed a threat to humanity, with lethal force if need be. Unbeknownst to the unsuspecting directors of the Foundation, most their new recruits are actually Others as well, and a good portion of the remainder are receiving help from them. Well, takes a crook to catch a crook, I guess. Character Guidelines: - The tech level's around that the present day, but the appearance of the Others has hastened development in many fields of technology, most notably the ones that help kill people better. Fancy sci-fi gizmos like bionics, energy weapons, artificial intelligence and giant self-aware death robots with energy weapons are starting to enter production in limited quantities. - The Others are a catch-all term for any being with a connection to the supernatural – everything from human psychics and wizards to more inhuman creatures like vampires, were-creatures or other otherworldly beings are categorized as Others. Basically, just about anything goes when it comes to characters. Provided you aren't, like, the Corpse-God of All That Is Unholy Made Flesh or something blatantly story-breaking like that. For simplicity, Others based on mythology have most of the strengths and weaknesses associated in them in myth (e.g. Vampires lose their powers in sunlight). Others of non-human stock lived in an alternate magical world until 2012, when the force barring their return was removed. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The skyscraper that housed the regional headquarters of the Thulsson Foundation was a stark modern edifice of steel and glass, an environment that made Luke feel terribly ill at ease. He would have been far happier amidst the rolling hills and pastoral tranquillity of home, far from this ugly, chaotic, cacophonic jungle of soulless concrete, swarming commuters and cold iron; still, a job was a job. You couldn’t fill your stomach on warm, fuzzy nostalgia after all. He approached the door of the Director’s Office and knocked, and unbidden, the doors swung open on their own, beckoning him into the office. “Good afternoon, Mr… O’Brien? Is that how I should address you?†A congenial-looking middle-aged man in an immaculate suit addressed him. Franz Stroheim, the regional director of the Thulsson Foundation, humanity’s best hope against the Others. Kinda shorter than I expected, though. “Luke will do,†he said with a smile as he shook the man’s extended hand; it felt slightly cold to the touch. “Pleased to meet you.†“Have a seat. Let’s get down to business, shall we?†Franz said, gesturing at the chair placed before his desk. “There’s an Other I’d like you to kill. A vampire by the name of Anton Witiezslav. He’s a local crime kingpin, but the police can’t lay a hand on him even if they tried. He’s probably bled dry almost a hundred people by now.†“How refreshingly straightforward,†Luke replied. “Sounds like a tall order even for me. A hundred people, really?†“Which is why you won’t be doing it alone,†Franz said reassuringly, patting him on the shoulder. “A number of other… operators have expressed interest as well; my sources tell me they’re every bit as qualified as you are. They should be arriving at the reception hall downstairs around now.â€
  15. The nights in Anna Mizo are stiflingly hot and its affects are strange on the people here. Babes are restless. The maids spill the milk. The husbands eyes wanders. The wives remain in bed, motionless. Some walk aimless around the small island, bumping into one another in dark, and sudden splashes of crimson permeate the air. Something sounds upon the ground. The birds scream in the trees and the ocean remains quiet. "I have given up on this pathetic human experience," someone calls from the midst of dark, and the birds do not scream, but they weep. The clouds are a blushing gray and ash falls from them — the winds, yes, the winds, lift the dew from grass. They drop blood into the sea. It is a clean, empty process, of earth cleaning its children, sweeping them into disuse. Orchids grow from them—spilled ichor, red earth—and spread pollen. The air is always thick and heavy with ocean and cedar musk and vanilla. The wind quietens and the neighbors crumble into hysterics, the walls are bathe in their blood. There are quick successions of suicide rates. The sounds of miniature thunder sounds — and then, the rains come. They come in heavy sounds. I digress: the winds pick up and the rains are swept like music — the husbands, they roam the island with cocks hard with temptation and the maids creamy buttocks are lifted towards their eyes. The wives say nothing and the babies scream with the birds. It seems it is all is inevitable. While they are filled to the brim in abject loneliness and celebrated angst, I become lost in the rushing scenery, of verdant trees washed white from moonlight. Here, in the low dark, in the summer monsoon, there are minutes where a nomad seduces, the linger of finger in the inside shelter of thighs, a savage grunt of satisfaction, there are hours where a man becomes a beast, where soft flesh like cream parts for the red sea of blood, and his prey slumps into a slumber less sweet than their fucking. It has been three years, since a woman, mauled, half-naked, her spine white and gleaming in moonlight, had been found. Who you are is important enough. A detective from the states, transferred to the island hidden in the fog of the Atlantic, to escape the horror of your last case. Whatever haunts you will not find reprieve in this quiet, sea-burdened community; you'll find there are plenty of washed bones of disquieted ghosts. Genre: Mature, Adult, Horror, Preternatural, Realistic, Dark, and Freeform. Other: Any gender requested. Your character: I have no present silhouette of how I expect your character to behave or appear, but they are creative, witty, and erotic. There are many variations available in the plot. I have constructed it without tight confines for the reason I wish for you to have equal input. Though, there are a few givens: the first, there is supernatural element to my character; they are much different from those around. This holds dark overtones as the interaction is physical and extensive. I expect there to be perverse comments, biting commentary, and incongruous collaborations between them. Specifics: Plotwise, set in Anna Mizo, an imaginary island who's flowers, referred to as Blood Orchids, often cause residents to hallucinate. They appear as lillies with soft round ends. You, being new to the island, are suspectible to its effects. Our characters cross paths for the first time, at the edge of the forest. There is something settling about my character to your human senses - a secret, a curse, you will have an unfortunate experience with. Skeleton: (should include the following in detail) Name ☾ Age ☾ Bio ☾Quirks ☾[1 ]Photograph ☾Opening Post ☾Theme Song
  16. gethsemane

    Humans have reached their modernity. Among the billions, some dare to live upon the thesis no superior power exists; your prophets, your patrons, your prayers are all rallied in indignation that you are much too blind to see. The earth is ready to expunge your filth, it’s womb has been gifted and encapsulated enough blackened corpses. Time is coming to close. It beats in the tensile silence of routine, in the rapid building of civilization and its quicker end. For millennium sleep has escaped and I have watched, the comings and goings of souls evaporated to the spectrum drop. Some return to the suffering time and time again, in a perpetual loop unable to atone for transgressions. Your kind believes in forgiveness and divine favor, in the intervention of a holy messiah to deliver you into new Eden, even as you scrounge lives in hypocrisy. But no more. The entire atmosphere is humming. Avatars are awakening and committing acts entrusted by the often twisted Harvesters that seduce them. It is almost inspiring, the complete ruin they have reckless ventured inside, the sheer ecstasy that consumes them in raging bursts of violet and violence. They are each a creation made desiccated in separation and disgustingly wonderful amalgamated. Soon this hum will be a cacophony of drums and sirens. Angels will not descend from heaven agoras to preserve the flawed art that is your world, and demons--even for as envious and wanton as made—will not claw for your husks. They are weeping for their own existence, they are foolish in their naïve hope that will be spared this annihilation. If you listen close, stop the petty squabble over technology warfare and hushed the echo of fire, you can hear the thrum, can feel me at the edge of the veil, filled with hunger and all the desire that has been denied of me. I have watched for millennium, always waiting in some semblance of patience for you to hurry along in your ignorance closer to my reach. Finally you have come and finally you will be undone.​ “And the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind†Revelations 6.13​ ​ The details: Apocalypse is now –or rather perched on the edge of becoming reality. Famine is slowly unwinding his influence. The Horsemen have felt the tug of duty to play their part in the final interim—we, however, are only concerned with one. Death, the first glimpsed and the last to deliver. And you, my sweet darling, are a mere human. Oblivious to the melody of destruction strung, until you are touched by his presence. There you will become his vessel, his weapon, his ambrosia, a harbinger to the world you once loved. Specifics: Plotwise, set in Israel in an imaginary city called Yedin-Kaseil–famed for baring a cobble-square said to be stained with blood of the Messiah. Here residents are currently at religious war with two other sects: Christianity and Druzeist. You don’t need to know anything at all about religion, biblical text, or be from the region, but supply a detailed account of how your character arrived here. Skeleton: (should include the following in detail)Name ☾ Age ☾ Bio ☾Quirks ☾Physical Description ☾ [1]Photograph/[1]Realistic Digital Art ☾Opening Post ☾Theme Song
  17. Lionel hit the ground running. Above him, lightning arced across the night sky, causing the air to crackle with energy in the aftermath of the spell. Lionel cursed, ducking into another abandoned alleyway as he heard the sounds of heavy footsteps across the brick rooftops behind him. Lightning magic was a very efficient way to kill someone - fast, lethal and nearly undodgeable. So far, he had gotten off from the fact that the man had terrible aiming, especially under the cover of darkness, but he doubted that fate would be so kind to him for much longer. Since when has fate been kind to you? Nala'hedriel scoffed. He discarded the staff he'd been carrying around - his disguise had been blown anyway. Peeking out of his corner, Lionel took a moment to make sure that the road was clear before dashing out once again, heading towards one of the many safehouses he had arranged in this town... But once again he felt a familiar tingling sensation across his skin, allowing him to narrowly avoid the bolt of lightning that shot past his right elbow. His hunter stood behind him as he spun around, fingers extended out in a handgun-esque gesture as a grin extended from his grizzled face. "Checkmate, Zero." The spell-hunter fired another bolt of lightning. Darkness leapt from the shadows around Lionel, throwing themselves in front of him, attracted by the sudden burst of magical energy. The lightning bolt hit the wall of darkness squarely in the middle, striking with all the force needed to smash straight through a concrete wall - and vanished in a burst of blue light. The shadows fell away, revealing Lionel's grim expression as he stared back at his assailant. "Yes, checkmate," he replied. "For you." Lionel crossed the distance between them in an instant, but the spell-hunter was skilled. He drew his sword, swinging it with swift, expert strikes directed at Lionel's neck. He must have been some sort of fencing master, Lionel decided, barely moving out of the way each time the sword came darting forwards, while the spell-hunter moved back, maintaining arms-length distance between them. Lunge, step, slash, step. It was all like a carefully choreographed dance between the two of them, but the uncertainty soon began to show on the spell-hunter's face. Obviously, he wasn't used to having his prey put up so much resistance at close range. It's the superspeed, Nala'hedriel drawled. It always gets them, every time. His defense faltered for a split second, but it was enough. Lionel sent a punch into his gut, causing him to flinch and recoil backwards. He grabbed the man's sword arm and gave it a sharp twist; the weapon fell to the ground after a cry of pain. A punch to the face, a strike in the chest, and the man was sent reeling onto the ground. Three ribs broken, Lionel noted. He'll have difficulty breathing. He bent down, grabbing the spell-hunter by his collar as he lifted the man up face to face. "Who sent you?" Lionel snarled. "How do you know the name Zero?" The spell-hunter laughed, a hearty laugh that caused him to cough up a bubble of blood. "Your past haunts you, homunculus. You will never be free of it." Something shifted within the man as he continued laughing, his head lolling back at the sky. Lionel threw him onto the ground by reflex, shadows flying to his arms... But no magical assault came. The man continued his hysterical laughter as his flesh began to melt away, sizzling under the influence of his own spell until there was nothing left of the man except his skeleton. And the sinister black pendant that lay inside. The Circle of Dead. Lionel Descartes woke up with a gasp. Dancing with Death A private RP between TriOctium and Ice. Cold sweat rolled down Lionel's forehead as he pushed himself out of bed, groaning. A bowl of water with a towel had been prepared on the table, and he gratefully used it to wipe his face as last night's dream continued to play over and over in his head. Dreams are a privilege, he reminded himself, remembering the days when he had spent each night in utter silence, his body resting yet not fully asleep. Even so, being haunted by events that happened months ago was nothing to scoff about, and it took Lionel a few moments to calm his nerves down. What's the matter, chuckles? Nala'hedriel asked. Had a bad night? "Nothing for you to be concerned about," he muttered in response. For all their mind-reading abilities, Lionel had learned early on that T'Skarin were notably unable to share dreams with their hosts. It was one of the many strange things about his 'symbiotic' relationship with Nala'hedriel, the T'Skarin Prince of Shadows. Judging by the sunlight, it was time for him to set off. He threw on a cloak and his pair of sandals, grabbed his cane lying by the bedside and left the room for breakfast. The Dancing Sword Inn was a quiet place in the mornings, a sharp contrast with the noisy scene it had been last night. One of the tables was still lying on the floor in the far corner, broken glass all around it. Lionel ignored that scene, taking his seat near the bar instead as Zoraida came out with a hunk of bread and a flagon of wine. "You don' look too well, son," the middle-aged barmaid commented. "You feelin' alright?" "I'm alright. Thanks for asking." Lionel took a large bite out of the bread, then winced at the stale taste. "Well, if you say so." Zoraida took a look around the mostly empty inn before leaning closer to his ear. "Did you hear? The Baron's been killed. In his own castle, too!" Lionel choked slightly on his beer, putting down the flagon slowly. "Last night?" Zoraida nodded with a serious expression on her face. "There's been a big hassle in the morning. Mageknights coming here from the capital an' everything. I was quite surprised when you didn't wake up from all the ruckus!" Lionel's stomach turned. He hadn't had many good experiences with mageknights, the so-called defenders of the common folk. But a Baron being assassinated... that was big news. And perhaps too much of a coincidence. Satisfied that she had shared the news, Zoraida glided back into the kitchen, leaving Lionel alone with his thoughts. ... A small crowd had already gathered before the Baron's castle, though none dared to attempt to push past the line of mageknights that had been formed around the main entrance. Their efforts were mostly futile; at this distance there was absolutely nothing to look at, except perhaps the castle's wonderfully kept garden of flowers. Lionel made his way around the boundary, passing by several more mageknights stationed along the west wall before he reached a more secluded spot. The only reason why no guards were positioned here was because a humongous wall, towering nearly three metres in height, blocked the way into the castle. Lionel knelt down, feeling around at the base of the wall. Within seconds he located the alarm spell that would have triggered should anyone actually succeed in vaulting over the wall, and sent the tiniest bit of his own shadow into the magic circuitry as it fizzled and died out. Not enough to cancel the spell permanently, but enough to stop it for a minute or two. Stepping back, he took a deep breath before performing a running jump - soaring just high enough to land feet-first on top of the wall. And with that, he was in. His landing was softened by the grass underfoot, and he quickly moved into one of the side doors as he made his way deeper into the castle. Voices echoed across the empty hallways, its premises having been vacated because of its owner's death. Lionel moved past a large dining hall, ducking out just in time as a clanking mageknight in white armor marched past, then slipping behind him and continuing towards the Baron's bedroom. He'd only been here once before, through the same way. But the layout of the castle was easy to remember, and Lionel found himself tracing the same steps he had made all those weeks ago. Just as he got into one of the waiting rooms, he felt cold steel press against his neck. "Don't move, Lionel." The voice was very familiar. Lionel put up his hands in surrender, allowing himself to be pushed against the wall and turned around to face the newcomer: a messy-haired Inquisitor with a sharp nose and a blade in each hand. "Fancy meeting you here, Jarrod," Lionel greeted with a nervous laugh. "I knew they were going to put an Inquisitor on the case. But I didn't expect them to send you." Jarrod didn't have the optimistic smile Lionel remembered from five years ago. His face looked grizzled, more hardened by recent events. "You shouldn't have come here, Lionel. I was hoping it wasn't you... but you being here is only going to implicate you in matters further." Lionel raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that I was the one who killed the Baron?" Jarrod didn't answer, simply staring straight at him for a moment. Then, with a great sigh, he lowered his sword from his neck, sheathing it slowly. "No, you don't have any reason to go around killing Barons. At least, not that I've discovered," the Inquisitor explained, slowly pacing around the room. "But that still isn't enough to stop you from being my prime suspect." "Why? Why am I the prime suspect?" "Because the assassin canceled the Baron's magic."
  18. The town was ablaze. The epicenter, the place where the old temple had once stood, was a scene of pandemonium -- rather apropos, considering what had started the mess in the first place. Though it was a moonless night, the overcast sky glowed a dull red like embers in a dying flame, the clouds reflecting the light of the fires blazing down below. Smoke trails spiraled skywards, filling the air with choking soot and ash, and the ground was treacherous, rent apart by scores of yawning fissures and strewn with piles of rubble and the occasional charred corpse. Despite this, three figures continued forging their way down the street, unperturbed by the carnage that surrounded them. They would have seemed out of place anywhere else -- they weren't so much humans as they were heroes of myth and legend somehow transplanted into the modern world. Leading them was a knight in gleaming armor, an imposing figure encased from head to toe in burnished pearl-white plates of steel. Following closely behind was a tall, lanky man in a billowing duster, a heavy battleaxe resting upon one shoulder. And finally, bringing up the rear from several paces away was a woman with a rifle, her gear rustling near-inaudibly as she picked her way through the rubble with measured strides. Finally, the trio came to a halt below the ruined gate of the temple, gazing across the scorched flagstones at the figure awaiting them. She was alone and unarmed, though the mass of swirling darkness behind her could have concealed any number of unseen enemies. After a quick exchange of gestures and words, they readied themselves for battle -- then, the world around them erupted into chaos. The sniper was the first to fall, her rifle arm blown clean off by a crackling lance of blindingly-white light. As she fell to her knees, her eyes wide with shock, the shadows around her abruptly shifted, and she was dragged off screaming into the darkness by dozens of wickedly sharp talons. The lanky man surged forwards with a shout, cutting down each shadowy creature that surged forwards to face him with a single blow of his battleaxe. However, as he got closer, the hordes of demonspawn pouring forth from the darkness only seemed to grow in number, and finally, just meters from the witch standing before him, one of the creatures' claws tore through his back, and immediately, he vanished within a growing pile of jet-black bodies. He had bought enough time, however. Even as he fell, his last surviving companion advanced forwards, the witch's energy bolts glancing off the armor plate. Then, a shot slammed into the knight's helmet, tearing it off and revealing the face of a young woman below it. The woman grimaced briefly, then charged forward with renewed vigor, slamming into the witch as she drove the tactical knife in her mail-clad hand through her opponent's rib cage. "This ends here, witch," she spat, putting her weight behind the knife and slamming her enemy to the ground. Then, her free hand wrapped around the other woman's head as her fingertips began to glow with a pale light. "Checkmate." The witch merely laughed hoarsely through blood-speckled lips. "Yes... it's checkmate, alright." she rasped as the light in her eyes slowly faded. "Milord... The final sacrifice is here." With those parting words, the witch was no more. Slowly, the knight turned her head upwards to look into the mass of roiling darkness before her -- and a dozen eyes the color of molten iron gazed back. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Erin Lafayette's eyes abruptly snapped open as she choked back a gasp. Slowly, her eyes panned across her surroundings, and she let out a sigh of relief -- her surroundings were reassuringly familiar. She was still in bed, surrounded by the organized chaos of her room -- a large, goofy-looking teddy bear on one side of her bed missing one of its beady button eyes, a jumbled pile of magazines with far too many shirtless men on the covers, the morning sunlight filtering through the Venetian blinds on the window, a red plastic alarm clock reading '7.11' on its luminous analogue dial and other assorted detritus. Phew. Looks like it was just a dream, then- Her gaze slowly swiveled back to the alarm clock. 7.11. There's no mistaking it. It says 7.11. No, wait. 7.12 now. There was a sudden, awful moment of clarity. Oh shit, I might be late for school. ... "Coming up after the break: an exclusive interview with Kagutsuchi-san, owner of the 'genius cat' who passed the Turing Test-" *click* Erin, now fully dressed and ready for school, sighed as she put the remote control down. Father really was irresponsible -- he'd not only left the TV on when he'd left, he'd left all the breakfast dishes in the sink with a little Post-It note saying "I trust that any child of mine will do their share of the family chores!" on the fridge. He even drew a smiley face on it. He leaves me this note, and completely neglects to... well, actually wake me up before he leaves? Dad... you're kind of a dick. She shrugged, stepping out of the door and locking it behind her. Never mind that; it was her first day in high school, and it probably wouldn't be a good idea to be late. ... It didn't take long for her to reach school, and thankfully, she'd managed to make it with a minute or two to spare. Then again, running the whole distance wasn't even that hard; even when her Demon Reaper was dematerialized, its invigorating effects seemed to linger on her. She strode purposefully onward, following the crowd of students towards the hall. Then, she felt a touch on her shoulder. Almost instinctively, she snapped to attention, a faint flicker of bluish light passing between the fingertips of her left hand as she readied her Demon Reaper for summoning. Who'd attack in broad daylight like that?! "My, my! Your tie's crooked," a tall, serious-looking girl with straight, waist-length black hair remarked to Erin, leaning in a little too close for her liking. "Thanks. I'll go fix it," she muttered and continued walking at the same brisk pace, fumbling clumsily with her tie and leaving the other girl in the dust. "S-she didn't even call me senpai..." the heartbroken girl nearly sobbed, staring at the rapidly receding silhouette of the girl who had shattered her romantic illusions. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ After dozing off through the interminable enrollment speeches that marked the start of the school year, Erin headed down to the classroom she'd been assigned to -- Class 1-C, a room on the third floor overlooking the track. She strolled over to the back of the class and slumped onto one of the chairs, idly glancing at the other students as they took their seats and settled. Is it just me, or does that other blonde girl next to me look a little unhinged? She idly thought as she reached into her bag, pulling out and stuffing a few books under her table. "GOOD MORNING~" A voice boomed out from the door as a distressingly familiar face practically pranced in. Oh, for the love of... why does the homeroom teacher have to be him? Her adoptive father, known to everyone as Mr. Lavalley, was... eccentric-looking, to say the least. He spent a frankly unwarranted amount of time every morning making sure his mustache was trimmed to micrometer precision, perpetually wore a pressed white suit (paired with a truly ghastly bow tie for whatever reason) with a blithe disregard of climate and fashion, and was seemingly never seen without his checkered top hat. When she'd asked why he kept dressing like that, he unfailingly replied that it was okay, since he was a foreigner. Erin found that frankly unlikely -- like her adoptive father, she had partially foreign blood too; she was pretty damn sure dressing like a period drama reject was not okay. "Salutations to you, Class 1-C! I am Giles Lavalley, the school's one and only foreign languages teacher, and I'll be your homeroom teacher this year!" he announced, scribbling his name upon the chalkboard in katakana. "Since I don't know most of you, I'd like you all to give a short introduction about yourselves in initiative... I mean, in alphabetical order. First up, Akagi!" There was a brief pause, and then a mousy-looking brown-haired girl at the front stood up, introducing herself with some trepidation. ... "Ibuki!" A short, bespectacled girl stood up, frantically yelped out her name and something about liking dogs before sitting back down. "Katsuragi!" A boy with a pompadour stood up, declaring that he wanted to become a banker someday. "Kurosawa!" No response. Looks like they were absent. "Lafayette!" With a little trepidation, Erin stood up, cleared her throat and took a deep breath. She began, "Hello, I'm Erin-" "- Lafayette, my very own adorable adoptive daughter!" Mr. Lavalley abruptly declared; Erin froze, her gaze focusing onto a particularly interesting part of the floor. "She likes Italian food, long walks in the countryside and drawing stuff that she refuses to show anyone! Also, just a heads up to all of you boys here...and girls, I guess... she's totally, perfectly eligible!" Immediately, the class broke out into tittering and guffaws, and Erin groaned, putting a palm to her forehead. This is going to be a long, long year.
  19. The sun was shining brightly, easily breaching the clouds over the sky of the metropolis planet of Coruscant. Among the vast skyscrapers of Republic City lay the Jedi Temple, a large square building with four towers and a central spire, with landing bays at each corner and steps leading up to the temple from all four sides. A cloaked woman walked up the grand steps of the Temple’s main entrance, the path flanked at either side by golden statues of of ancient Jedi known as the Four Masters. As she approached the large doors a pair of Republic Troopers stood in her way. She tiled her hood slightly to reveal her smooth, blue-skinned face that was calm and serene. “Ah, General Ven, pleasure to see your return†came the muffled voice from behind one of the trooper’s helmet. As he stepped aside and the robed woman passed by them both without a word. She entered the temple and continued down the large hallway that lay within. The golden décor was grand and full of history. Although this great hallway was quiet with only a few people wandering around. It was a sign of the times. With a war in full swing many Jedi were out in the field, doing what they could for the Republic. Only scholars, teachers and the younglings remained. The woman stepped in to an elevator that immediately began to ascend with a gentle humming noise, climbing the heights of one of the four towers. The elevator stopped at a floor and another robed man entered. A tan skinned Zabrak with brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and three horns protruding from his forehead. The woman lifted her hood from her face to reveal her unblemished skin, completely smooth and hairless. A pair of lekku protruded from the top of her head, strapped together behind her with a set of golden bands. The man smiled as he recognized the Twi’lek Jedi. “A Miss Ashara Ven, you have returned from the front then?†he said with a smile. “Master Rozahn.†Ashara replied with a polite nod of her head. “It is good to see you.†“And you. Although…†Rozahn’s glance moved over the white plastoid armour that was showing under Ashara’s robe. “Do not think me rude to say that your outfit does not suit you. I’m so used to seeing deep within the archives, not strutting around in battle armour.†“It is hardly a fashion statement.†Ashara replied. “I have only just returned from Taris. We are trying to regain a foothold there but…nature has ravaged the planet over time. Very dangerous. Although it keeps me away from the real action, at least it felt like I was doing something good.†“Well, now that you’re home you can return to your comforts, eh?†Rozahn said with a soft smile. “You surely deserve as much.†“Comforts are not a luxury we can afford in this time, Master Rozahn.†Ashara responded. “I will only be here a short while and then I will return. I may not enjoy this sort of thing but it’s what we need right now.†“How very noble of you.†Rozahn said with a soft nod. “Perhaps while you are here you can stop by the trials. Some of the younglings are very promising. You never know, perhaps one might catch your eye.†“I doubt that very much.†Ashara assured the Zabrak. “I'm afraid I am not the right person to teach young minds.†“If I recall…your mastery of The Force is quite the thing.†Rozahn continued. “Control is something many of the younglings lack. You would make an excellent teacher I am sure. And you know all to well that if you continue to wait, the Council will make a decision for you.†“If the Council chooses it then I will obey.†Ashara replied. “But not before.†“Hah! Very well Miss Ven.†Rozahn said with a warm smile. “At least come along to the Trial, there aren’t many of us here at the moment. It would help the younglings if there was a better turn out, you know?†Ashara gave an audible sigh. “Very well.†She relented. As she reached her floor Ashara took her leave of the elevator and continued down the hallways, the balcony looking out on to the same great hallway she had entered below. She turned in to a small corridor and followed through it, passing banners and holograms spouting various musings of times past. Eventually she found her own chambers and entered. Her room was small and minimalist, with only a bed and a few personal effects inside. As the blast door shut behind her she removed her robe, unstrapped the plastoid covers from her arms and legs, and finally unbuckled the chest piece as well. She removed the lightsaber from her belt and placed it on her bed. She sifted through the small cupboard to find fresh clothes and changed in to a purple tunic with fine golden designs in the pattern, which had longer sections covering her front and back of her legs. Underneath she wore simple, black leggings and a pair of knee high, brown boots. Ashara sat herself at the foot of her bed with her legs crossed and closed her eyes. The silence was comforting. Even when she had found time to herself on her travels, she was always distracted by the ambient noise, the humming of a ships engine, troopers bragging and bickering, tears and laughter. She closed her eyes, trying to meditate, trying to compose herself. "There is no emotion..." she told herself. "...Only the Force." Ashara focused on her own breathing, slow and rhythmic. By meditating she was able to go deep within herself, and ease all pain and stress that she had absorbed from her recent journey. However she found Rozahn's words penetrating her mind. He had spoken truth, if she did not choose a padawan then soon enough the Council would decide for her. She did not feel ready to train another, she had so much she had yet to teach herself. When her eyes opened she realised that hours had passed her by. Yet all around her was the same, an empty room with no personality to it. She had found little need to hold on to possessions, and spending her life in service to the Jedi Order meant this room was rarely her home. She stood up from the ground and stretched her body. No doubt the Initiate Trials would be starting soon. She had agreed to spectate and she was not one to go back on her word. She picked up her lightsaber and her robe as she went out of the door. Perhaps this would be interesting after all. Inside the Training Centre Ashara met with a few of the other Jedi who had made an attendance. Among them was Master Rozahn, but also a human man and a Nautilan woman. Rozahn was quick to greet her. "Miss Ven, so glad you could come." He said with another warm smile. "This is Krem Havar and Master Dessa Ro." he said as he gestured to the Human and the Nautilan respectively. "Pleasure." Krem said and gave a nod her way, but he remained still with his arms folded. "Pleased to meet you Miss Ven." Dessa Ro said with a short bow. "Please, call me Ashara." she replied with a smile. "So are you both here to find new padawans?" "That all depends on what we see." Krem replied first. "The first trial is about to begin. The initiates will be tested on their knowledge of the Jedi Code. Not very exciting I grant you. I'd be surprised if any of them fail at this point." "I had memorized the code by the time I was five years old. Unless standards have slipped I'm sure they will all do well." Ashara assured. "After that they will be tested on their discipline." Krem continued. "That's when it gets interesting. They need to show competency with the First Form, and show their understanding of the balance between attack and defence. I hear they will be duelling each other." "That seems...a little harsh." Ashara admitted. "All I had to do was run a simulation with a visor." "Times are tough, we need to make sure they are ready." Krem replied. "I'm most interested in the third trial. An Initiate must show willingness to meditate, and show that they move with The Force, and do not fight it stubbornly like a rock." Dessa Ro chimed in. "They save the most challenging for last." Ashara nodded. "It has always been common for younglings to struggle with control. I assume because it's not as exciting as swinging a stick around." "They can daydream all they like when we end this war." Krem added. "It might not be right...but we need guardians, not scholars. I'll be picking who ever kicks the most butt out there." Ashara sighed inwardly. She felt this Jedi Knight, Krem, was a bit of a fool. There were plenty of his type. Not all Knights were as stringent on their training methods, and those who were physically adept were still capable of passing the trials to Knighthood. Ashara looked out to the children standing in the training area, waiting for instruction from their trainer. All of them were in their early teens. A terrible age, she thought. Never had she found herself feeling more lost than at that time in her life. As sad as it was to say, she expected very little of any of them.
  20. "And remember to cut your hair by next week, Raiha-kun," Akira concluded, just as the bell signalling the end of homeroom sounded. "To repeat myself, those of you who are good at drawing can consider joining the Art Club. We will start our activities after school today." From within his briefcase, he produced a bunch of flyers with pictures of famous artists photoshopped together, with the caption 'ARTISTS UNITE!!! JOIN THE ART CLUB TODAY!!!' emblazoned on the top as well as several details on how to locate the Art Room at the bottom. Only those who could see Demons or the supernatural would also notice the luminescent blue words, scrawled across the middle as though it had been drawn with a finger. "Demon Hunters Wanted." "Class dismissed." Akira gave the students a quick bow as they stood up in unison and did likewise, bursting into chatter as he retrieved his briefcase and headed out of the room. Locating the various noticeboards positioned all across the school, he put up more of those flyers on each of them. Being a relief teacher, he didn't have many lessons to take charge of, and had quite a lot of free time, in fact. Enough to give Mitsuba a quick search, in fact. Loosening his tie, Akira headed out of the school gates. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hellmouths are huge, often cavernous tears in the fabric of reality, linking our mortal realm with that of the demonic world. Being located in between realms, even power users and practitioners of magic cannot normally see it. They can, however, locate certain hotspots around the Hellmouth where the fabric of reality is particularly weak, with the proper detection spells and know-how. These hotspots are normally located in areas less populated by humans, as they give out a sense of dread and fear that even ordinary mortals can feel; the sense of something watching you, giving you goosebumps and causing your hair to stand on end. This was one such hotspot. A lone man stumbled into the dusty room, clutching his head as though he was in terrible pain. "The pain... take it away! I can't take it anymore! Please! KILL ME!!" He collapsed onto the hard stone floor, as a dark shadow loomed over his fallen figure. "Please..." he could still be heard mumbling. "I don't want to give in to the voices..." The robed figure crouched down, running a hand through the man's hair. "Hush now. Everything will be alright. Soon, it will all be over." As he stroked the man's hair, it seemed to get longer and bushier. In fact, the man's entire body seemed to be sprouting hair as it metamorphosed into a more lupine shape, and soon his mumblings became low-pitched and incoherent, the words merging into rumbling growls. Within minutes, there was no trace of the man any longer, only a wolf that lay obediently at the feet of the robed figure. "You will be rewarded for your obedience," said the figure. The wolf slowly stood up, shaking its fur as it glanced up into the eyes of the figure. "Go now. There is work to be done." Wordlessly, the wolf turned and bounded out of the room, headed for the destination that had been imprinted into its head. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was already late afternoon when Akira arrived back in the compound of Mitsuba No. 1 High School, and students were already streaming towards their various club locations or heading out the school gates. He quickly headed up to room 02-11, where a sign labelled 'Art Room' could be seen on the front door. Below that, the same luminescent blue words 'Demon Hunters Wanted' had been painted over the door. He smiled, entered the room, and took a seat, waiting for the first student to arrive.
  21. I really liked Fuyukaba Academy: Demon Hunters. Apparently, enough of you agreed with this sentiment to make it the last winner of the RP Awards. Unfortunately, it's... well, dead. Unfortunately, since not all the original members are still interested, it’s going to stay that way, so a challenger emerges! Or something like that; I’m not quite sure how you challenge an incumbent who’s already dead. MITSUBA ACADEMY: DEMON HUNTERS 2 An RP about school life, having fun and punching demons until they explode Mitsuba is almost the model of a stereotypical anime town. A medium-sized town of leafy, picturesque neighbourhoods set among rolling green hills, Mitsuba has one elementary, middle and high school that almost every kid in town attends, a quaint shopping district, a large department store that draws the ire of proprietors from said shopping district, a temple staffed solely by inexplicably teenage mikos, a river bank whose only purpose seems to be for students to loaf around and even a bunch of wind turbines that seem to be there just to set the mood. Mitsuba No.1 High School (there is no No.2. It’s a long story) is an average-sized high school, generally seen as a safe and conducive place for learning. The school offers a variety of clubs and societies catering interests ranging from the usual sports like baseball, kendo and basketball to pursuits like cooking or light music (a club that’s always on the verge of closing down, for some reason.) Among these clubs is the Literature Club… a club that never tries to recruit new members (they just sort of pop up), doesn’t seem to do any activities of note and is generally seen as a group of oddballs. Naturally, the student body swirls with rumours about what the club members and their advisor, the foreign languages teacher Mr. Lavalley, are up to – the fact that some previous members seem to have vanished without a trace doesn’t help either. All the rumours are wrong. Except for the theories of that one crazy third-year who always wears a hat for some reason, and no one listens to him anyway. The Literature Club’s true purpose is far more outlandish – and far more important than most might think. Mitsuba was founded atop a Hellmouth, a place where the boundaries between this world and another are more like ‘polite suggestions’. There are several scattered around the world, but Mitsuba’s one is particularly active – local old wives’ tales tell of evil spirits and strange happenings, and in this case, there’s truth to them. Creatures from beyond this realm – what the legends refer to as demons and devils – seek to pierce the boundary and enter reality, using mortal cats’ paws and summoned thralls to set the stage for their arrival. Even a single Demon’s arrival upon this planet could spell untold destruction, as their very presence distorts reality itself, leaving entire regions uninhabitable for decades. Mr. Lavalley knows this all too well, and has gathered and trained the Literature Club’s students, a select few privy to the town’s secrets and capable of wielding the magical forces capable of taking Demons down, for a single mission. They are to find the things man was never meant to know. And they are to kill them. Yeah, so this is an anime-style urban fantasy RP set at a high school. You go to school, you do student things, you have fun, you laugh, you cry, and after hours, you go into abandoned lots and beat demon cultists until they stop trying to end the world. You get the picture. So here's what you probably need to know: Mitsuba: Obviously fictional. Is a medium-sized Japanese town on the outskirts of Tokyo --think Inaba from Persona 4 or DUWANG Morioh from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. You get the idea. Mitsuba No. 1 High School: There is no Mitsuba No.2 High School. There never was a Mitsuba No.2 High School. Students have to be in uniform -- dark blue blazer, shirt with tie and long pants for the boys, dark blue blazer, shirt with tie and skirt for the girls. The dress code no longer applies when you are knee-deep in demon-spawn guts. The Literature Club: Supervised by Mr. Lavalley, a fabulously haired foreign man who teaches French, the club consists of a small handful of students -- i.e. you guys. The RP's starting off at the start of the school year, so you'll probably join up shortly after the story's beginning if you're a freshman or transfer student, and you're already in the club and basking in the adoration of your adorable kohais if you're a second or third-year student. You could be from middle school (or elementary school, God forbid) if you really wanted to, though. Magic: There are few sources of magic in this world. Most of them stem from artifacts known as Demon Reapers, rare and powerful items that grant magical powers to the few people that can wield them. The method of making them has been essentially lost to the ages, and most of them are passed down Demon hunter clans for generations, and others are sacred treasures owned by temples or churches, only loaned out to people who they can trust. They can take on pretty much any form, and can grant almost any power within reason -- you know, no obliterating the entire town, bringing back the dead or reversing time, that kind of thing. You could defeat mortal servants and demon-spawn with conventional weapons (though it's difficult), but a true Demon can only be destroyed by magical weaponry. If you don't want to start off owning a Demon Reaper, Lavalley-sensei happens to have a few that need new users. The presence of magic or demonic activity often causes disruption of electronics and recording equipment, nausea, short-term memory loss in people who can't use magic and in more serious cases, unconsciousness. (And death if you, say, get hit by a fireball.) Some humans can manifest magic on their own. These humans, normally formed due to the extended exposure to a Hellmouth when they were babies, are known as Transcendents. Unfortunately, most Transcendents cannot properly control their powers, and either end up killing themselves or everyone around them when their abilities go out of control. However, in some rare cases, they learn to manage their unusual abilities, and end up mastering them for the sake of combating the demons that crawl out of the very Hellmouth that granted them their powers. Demons: No, you can't be a Demon. That's like going into a D&D game and saying "I'd like to play as Cthulhu". In fact, no one's seen a Demon fully manifest for the last 15 years, fortunately. Most Demons are immortal, incredibly powerful and usually have the accumulated knowledge of centuries behind them, but thankfully can't enter our reality under normal circumstances. They use their influence to enlist mortal cats' paws, granting them some measure of their dark powers in exchange for setting the stage to summon the Demon directly into the world. Those working for Demons are known as Warlocks, and possess twisted mirrors of the Reapers' powers, in addition to being able to summon mindless demon-like servants called Thralls to serve them. Some Reapers are of Demonic origin, and using them leaves oneself open to the influence of the Demon that created it. Eventually, such cursed weapons will subvert the wielder's will to the Demon's cause. How About Half-Demons? They exist, and inherit some of their parent's powers. There's a catch, too -- Just as a person wielding a demonic Reaper is open to suggestion from the Demon which created them, half-demons, also known as Scions, perpetually hear the whispers of their Demonic forebear within their heads. This usually drives them insane, though the most strong-willed of them can withstand the voices... for a while. If there's more than one of them in the RP, I demand that they fight and kill each other. They're supposed to be incredibly rare. Killing a Demon: They're pretty much immortal -- however, a Demon's body can be destroyed before it has has fully crossed over to this world. This banishes the Demon and weakens them, preventing them from returning... for a while. If a Demon fully crosses over to the material plane, it can be killed for good by destroying the core at the center of its body -- however, seeing that a fully manifested Demon could shrug off a nuclear blast and fully regenerate within hours, this is an unlikely event, to say the least. Well, if there's any questions, feel free to post em here. All this is kinda flexible and can be changed if you bother me enough. This RP's open to everybody. If you drop off the face of the forum, however, don't blame me if your character is abducted by cultists and used as a tentacle monster's drinking cup. Character Sheet!
  22. Book 1: Resonance A thick fog swept across the darkness, the wind carrying it gently across the midnight plains. A distant sound of drums rumbled rhythmically through the air. The regimented beat of war drums became louder, until soon they were deafening. A horn sound cut through the drumming, followed by an ear-splitting crescendo of roars. Missiles of flame illuminated the skies. Footsteps crunched through the wet grasslands, together in unison creating a rumble like thunder. spears and blades glinted off the light of the projectiles cascading across the sky. Fury was so thick in the air that he could taste it. He felt sweat pouring from him. Fear gripped him tightly. How had he gotten here? He had no memory of what had transpired before. Before him the armies met one another with a resounding crash and steel met steel. More fire shot skywards, the earth shot up from the ground in chunks, before being volleyed into the crowds. He fell to his knees. It was chaos. He looked to the floor, and the grassy plains were red with blood. "Stop it!" He barked, hammering a clenched fist into the ground. "STOP IT!" There was an explosion in the centre of the battle. He felt the heat wash over him. The light was blinding, but in the centre of it all he saw a lone figure. A man draped in red robes, long grey hair flowing behind him, a thick beard across his face. His arms were outstretched, gently moving through the air, coaxing the fire, swirling it around him. He stood calmly, manipulating this growing vortex of flame. Slowly the armies began to back off, moving away so as not to be burned. The air grew thick with black smoke, and their awe struck faces began to fade away from his view. After a moment, only the man within the vortex remained, and as he looked over the man, the man looked back, staring coldly at him, as if he could see within his very soul. Finally, darkness enveloped him too. Yaozu's eyes sprung open, but he remained motionless, lying on his back. He stared upwards at the dark mahogany ceiling. The young man felt a weight on his chest, and for a moment he contemplated that this was the weight left on him by his dream. However the reasons soon became more literal, as the creature lying on his chest crept forward and in to his field of view. The orange and white furred creature looked at him with innocent, black eyes, before cocking it's head slightly. "Hey...Juro, you little rascal." Yaozu said with a soft smirk as he clapped the Fire Ferret with his hand, ruffling the fure on it's little head. Juro made a high pitched growling noise, before forcing itself out from his grip and running off of the bed. Yaozu sat up and turned to his side, to see there was another figure in the room. This time it was a middle aged man of strong build, his hair short and spiked, beginning to go grey, and a short goatee at his chin. "You were grumbling in your sleep again, kid." The man said with a soft smile, "Poor Juro was just worried about you, that's all." "It was just a crazy dream." Yaozu replied, giving a quick yawn before pulling himself out of bed. His companion did not seem quite as dismissive as he was. "You know if it was anyone else I'd believe that." He said with a raised brow. "You know that your dreams...they're different. You can't just pass them off as your mind running wander." "I know, I know." Yaozu sighed, rolling his eyes. "But this was definitely just a dream. I know the difference by now. This...didn't feel the same. You know, Kuj'ra?" "Actually, I don't" Kuj'ra replied, smirking once more. "I'm not the Avatar kid, my dreams only involve quiet beaches and naked ladies." "Hah!" Yaozu grinned. "I'm sure your wife finds that comforting." "Yeah, right. Like I'm stupid enough to tell her that." Kuj'ra chuckled. "Anyway, you need to get dressed. We're almost there. I'll expect you on deck in ten minutes." "Sure. You go on." Yaozu replied as he waved Kuj'ra off. As the door to his room closed he pulled off his night shirt and opened a wardrobe, pulling out some clothes and throwing them on the bed in a heap. He settled himself in to a pair of black trousers, before fitting on a pair of knee high, grey boots, fastened with black laces in a cross-hatch pattern up the front. He pulled a white vest on over his torso, and then on top of that he put on a dark grey, double breasted jacket, zipped up on the left hand side of his chest. He fastened a red sash around his waist and popped the collar of his jacket so that it covered his neck. Finally dressed he looked in the mirror. He was a fair skinned 18 year old, with green eyes and jet black hair, fashioned in a long mohawk, shaved skin-close at the sides. He pulled the long hair back and tied it back in a high ponytail. Now looking halfway presentable he made his way to the door, Juro padding along behind him before leaping up and clambering on to his shoulder. Yaozu walked along the tight corridor, the metal frames a stark comparison to the wooden frames of his room. He turned a corner and rose up a set of stairs, hearing Kuj'ra talking loudly at the top. The man was outspoken and often blunt, to the point of offending. Yaozu found this quite humorous as the man never intended to insult anybody, he was incredibly warm hearted. Kuj'ra was his mentor, the man who has taught him Firebending when he was just a boy. Even when he had to travel across the world in his early teens, to places his parents and friends could not go, Kuj'ra always came with him. From the icy cold of the Northern Water Tribe, to the peaceful peaks of the Air Nomads, and even to the lush valley of Zaofu where he mastered Earthbending. The most recent trip had been to the Water Tribe, to conquer his weakest element. While his training was considered complete, he still did not feel exceptionally confident with water. Finally he emerged from the steps and out on to a long deck, where crew were busy steering the ship. Yaozu looked up, his vision obscured by the large red canvas of the Fire Nation's Airship balloon. He walked over to the edge and looked over the side to the vast ocean below. Then in the distance he saw their destination. There on the edge of a city, the statue of Avatar Aang greeted those who travelled to Republic City. It had been nearly 200 years since Aang's passing. "This is it, kid." Kuj'ra said as he slapped Yaozu on the back, causing him to lurch forwards slightly. "The training wheels are off. This is your first diplomatic mission as the Avatar. Do you think you can handle it?" "We're attending a summit." Yaozu replied. "A bunch of old men and women bickering over inane discrepancies in the education bills or something equally boring." Yaozu let out a sigh. "I want to see some of the action. I should be helping people. Like Yun Feng and Korra did." "The world doesn't need saving, kid." Kuj'ra replied. "Your predecessors did those things because they had to. They fought for the peace we have now. It's your job to ensure it stays that way. Even if it means a boring summit, right?" "Right..." Yaozu muttered, staring off into the mountains of the Earth Kingdom, way past Republic City. "...Still...what I wouldn't give for even a little trouble, someone I could save..."
  23. How much for a sword?

    A small village is under threat by a group of bandits, they extort, kidnap, rape and steal. Tired of the continuous harassment they seek outside help to save them, but without treasure of any kind what sort of mercenary can they hire? Hungry ones! I am interested in a low-fantasy medieval RP: less magic, more grumbling. Develop down-on-your-luck mercenaries or down-trodden villagers. Whatever might fit into the story. I think 4 participants would be ideal. I'll release some more background stuff once I think it up.
  24. And so is the Golden City blackenedWith each step you take in my Hall.Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting.You have brought Sin to HeavenAnd doom upon all the world. They say that it's our fault, that it's because of us these monsters have appeared. It seems like everywhere you go, the peasants and slaves have renewed boldness, spitting and cursing our presence regardless of consequences. They threaten to rebel, emboldened by their preoccupied masters' lack of focus--already Emerius has shed blood in its streets, quieting the protests. But with its leadership in disarray, too preoccupied with rumors of a weakening Archon, a new prospect of power, the commonfolk will not stay quiet. The Imperium is already weak, this endless century-long war having weathered the foundations on which we once stood. You'd think that those responsible for upholding our grand kingdom would take more action to put an end to this 'Blight', but instead the fools sit and squabble amongst themselves, playing their hands conservatively to protect their holds and properties. Some even incite more carnage, using the blood that has been spilled to fuel their snatches at more power. Thedas is already going to hell in a handbasket--who can get dragged down with the most to their name? Idiots, all of them. It doesn't matter who did what or why, all that matters is these . . . darkspawn must be stopped. Horrifying, vile creatures that taint everything they touch--even dragons! For the past one hundred years, one High Dragon, twisted and terrifying, has been seen . . . rallying these monsters, like a leader of some kind. Some people think that it is one of our beloved Gods, tainted to reveal His true nature by humanity's sins. I doubt that, and it doesn't really make a damned difference anyway, does it? Nor will we, as long as people expect the magisters to do something. The world is crumbling, the Imperium is falling apart, and all anyone can seem to do is curl up in a corner and cower. Even the stout and valorous dwarves of Kal-Sharok have withdrawn--although that's hardly their fault, since these creatures supposedly came from underground. Minrathous still stands, at least, but that's hardly saying anything, given it won't stand for much longer if this continues. Sure, we've managed some victories, kept some cities and outposts from being utterly ransacked, but the people are changed. Some wind up tainted, perhaps as an effect of the darkspawn as the rumors go, and become ghoulish and mad--leaving someone the sad choice of putting the miserable creature down. No more. This Blight--as people have been calling it--must be stopped. Gods, dragons, magic, Fade, demons--whatever the source does not truly matter, and speculation and blame do not stop the fact that it is a disease that is destroying us. I will no longer wait for others to take action--it's high time someone took matters into their own hands, and that someone may as well be me. Moral Grey It's been almost a century since the Blight began, marked by the rise of a twisted Dragon people have taken to calling an Archdemon, and the world has slowly fallen into chaos as creatures known as the darkspawn ravage the lands. No one's certain where the darkspawn came from or what this 'Archdemon' really is, or even how to destroy them, for while the darkspawn fall easily enough to metal and magic, the Archdemon seems nigh immortal. With an immortal creature leading a horde apparently set on destroying Thedas, the people are thrown into a panic, and at the heart of the chaos is the Tevinter Imperium. Once a powerful kingdom ruled by blood magic that stood upon the backs of elvhen slaves, the Archdemon and its monstrous army are no doubt herald of its impending fall. Not only do slaves and peasants rebel as the darkspawn lay siege to the Imperium, the Imperium also suffers from within as magisters threaten civil war. Some wish to topple their incompetent Archon and claim the rule for themselves, others use the chaos to further their own agendas and try to 'settle' old disputes, and the rest who pledge their forces to fight the darkspawn are simply too few. But to the east, in the port-city of Qarinus where the darkspawn assaults are fewer, rumors of a strange woman looking for aid circulate. The past several weeks, as the locals will tell you, she has been going around, asking for volunteers to aid her in defeating the Blight. She claims to know a way to put a stop to it, and demands only that those who would help her be strong in their convictions. Be they slaves, Soporati, Laetans, even rebels--she calls for aid from all. But does she really know how to stop the Blight? And how can one small group possibly hope to change the world? ------------ Setting: The Tevinter Imperium, approx. -302TE (fall) Regions include Seheron, Anderfels, Antiva, and Tevinter Map of Thedas (large file) Races: Humans, elves, dwarves All classes and most specializations are permissible Elf-blooded are fairly common, though frowned upon. Dwarf-blooded are rarer, but not unheard of. Dwarves are also more virile than in Origins. Kossith not yet discovered--had one settlement in the Korcari Wilds before being wiped out during the Blight. Alamarri, Clayne, Chasind, and Avvar tribes exist Worship of the Old Gods is in rapid decline, and practitioners are met with mixed reactions. Chantry has not yet been founded, and thus templars do not exist. Circles do, though. Elves have no claim to the Dales and thus there are no Dalish elves, meaning there are no Keepers. However, renegade elves free from slavery do exist Blood magic is prevalent almost everywhere. Most, if not all mages, at least know the basics. Reavers are also fairly common. Somniari exist, albeit still rare. Their association with Archon Thalsian and thus the Old Gods have increased hostility towards them, in some cases even resulting in purging. Most, though not all thaigs have fallen. Kal-Sharok maintains minimal contact with the surface. Legion of the Dead is not yet founded. This is an idea I've had in my head for awhile now, and that I've been dying to play out. I originally intended to play it out as a story for the tabletop DA game, but I couldn't get my hands on the books I needed and then later moved to an area where tabletop gaming is virtually unheard of (the horror!). However, I still think the story has great potential, and would love to roleplay it out in one form or another, so I figure why not roleplay it here? Anyone is welcome to join, even if you haven't played the games, and I'm more than happy to provide information wherever needed. Most of the info here is based on heavy research into the otherwise minimal descriptions of Dragon Age history, and as such is taken with a lot of liberties. I believe most of it is accurate, although if someone else equally familiar with Thedosian history would like to provide advice and corrections where they're needed, it's certainly not unwelcome. Given that this is set during a time period not officially expanded on in-canon, there will be plenty of room to flex ideas--after all, given Thedas' history, much knowledge of magic, Arlathan, dwarves, the thaigs, and so much more was lost, especially after the fall of the Imperium. And since this takes place while the Imperium still retains far more power than the Imperium in Origins, it is safe to assume that much more knowledge is still to be had. The primary plot of this roleplay will be centered around founding the Grey Wardens, with plenty of bumps along the road, of course. Expect there to be plenty of magic, demons, Fade wandering (because what DA story is complete without at least one trip into the Fade), political strife, intrigue, and of course plenty of darkspawn waiting to have blades sunken into them! If you want to join, just fill out the following:
  25. How much for a sword? [R]

    There is a rhythm in all things, peace turns to war, safety turns to fear, friends turn to enemies, lords and kings come and go. A time of uncertainty and war has fallen on the land. The strong do what they want, and the weak suffer what they must. Sweat beaded and ran down his brow as large as pebbled. He couldn't stop his heart pounding or his legs shaking. His hand was clamped over his mouth for fear they would hear his rapid breath. Even though his heart beat pounded in his ears, he could hear everything clearly, even the smallest things. The horses snuffled and shuffled their feet in the lush grass of summer. Leather creaked when one rider shifted in the saddle. Metal clinked against metal. Rossi jumped and almost let out a yelp when one of the riders spoke up. "What do you think?" A male human voice said. "I'd guess two months before harvest time." A female elf voice answered. "Not worth it yet." The first voice answered. "Unless we want moldy blankets and barrels of flat beer." He let out a half laugh. "We hit this place last year anyhow, I doubt they have much else left." Said a lizardman voice. "Lets not waste our time here, we will be back in three months and take all they got." Said strong human voice. "We will hit that village down the river, I want fish anyhow." The band of horseman turned and headed back over the crest of the hill from which they were viewing the tiny village. Rossi waited until he no longer heard them before scrambling up out of the patch of think thorns and vines that had concealed him. He gave one frightened look in the direction the horsemen departed in, and ran down the him as fast as his old legs would carry him ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Someone were crying, most were silent. They all knew what was at stake. Loosing one harvest was a disaster, loosing two in a row was a death sentence. Most of the village was gathered in the dusty common land at the center of town. Some shouted, some cried, some sat silently. Every so often someone would shout a suggestion, then get shouted down by dissenters. "We should give in! Beg to keep enough to live off of!" - "They would take everything just to spite us!' "We should contact the lord!" - "He would do nothing! Just like last time!" "We should just kill ourselves! Then the lord might notice!" Everyone fell silent at that suggestion. Ranunt, one of the more weathly farmers, spoke up at last. "We should as the Old Man." Everyone silently agreed, and shuffled after Ranunt, toward the old, creaky mill at the edge of town. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Not everyone would fit inside the mill house, most crowded out front, peering through windows. Ranunt and Rossi sat on the rushes silently. Everyone was silent and tense. They had told everything they knew, telling every detail they knew or imagined. The Old Man just sat, sunken old eyes looking down, deep in thought. "We must contact the lord." Said Ranunt. "We must give them what they want." Said Rossi. "We must fight!" Shouted a younger villager pushing into the room. It was a younger elf, Turas, his eyes burning. The Old Man did not respond or even seem to react. Everyone held their breath. Finally, as quiet as a whisper, the Old Man spoke: "When I was a young man, I saw many villages burnt and destroyed. I once found one that was intact." "What did they do?" Rossi interjected. "They hired fighters." The Old Man answered slowly. "But how, we have no money, only grain," The Old Man smirked "Well then hire hungry soldiers." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After some deliberation, it had been decided that Ranunt and Rossi would go to look for soldiers. Turas had insisted to come along too, and they did not turn him away. They set out the next morning with meager rations, old woolen cloaks and walking sticks. A bedraggled last hope for the village. The had walked for two days before making it to the nearest town, Cooper's Crossing, the nearest ferry and the only thing considered a town for leagues in any direction. Even so it was a bustling place for the small town farmers, and full of traps set for easy marks. Luckily their lack of valuable got them out of most scrapes but soon left them with little food, and had robbed them of the few copper coins they had gathered in the village. Every time they had approach a person bearing arms, they had been laughed away. No one was willing to risk their necks for a meal or two a day. Time wore on and they seemed to get no where. Their hope failing, they sat in the corner of the public house they stayed in. "Maybe we should return home." Rossi said. "At least we can starve in our own homes." "Don't think that way." Turas snapped. "We must succeed." "We certainly must." Ranunt said staring at the dirt floor. "I just hope we find at least one soldier willing to help us soon."