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Found 130 results

  1. Wasted Safety

    "War... is nice. War is a simple thing. You have allies and enemies, and civilians. You protect the civilians, you kill the enemies, you follow your orders... your commanding officer's orders nearly get you killed. Then, if somehow your squad survives long enough, your commanding officer gets promoted despite being a moron" That's a bit of satire soldiers used to share over the dinner table. Not anymore though. Most people don't even know what satire is. They literally don't know the meaning of the word. And they don't bother to find out either. They weren't always like this though. Used to be that society was a very controversial argumentative thing. There was tell of a thing called opinions, which would spark said arguments all the time. People thinking they were right, other people trying to prove them wrong. Eventually the latter would give up because usually the former were too stupid and stubborn to admit to their mistake. Most people would say that's bad. But is it worse than how it is now? Who knows. Not a lot of the ones from those times are alive to remember and complain how things used to be better. Now the young inherit what's left of the world while the old sit back in their rickety chairs in the dark, mumbling to each other. But who cares about the old anyway? Nobody, that's who. So let's look at young ones. One example would be Colonel Gilmore Floyd. Don't let the rank fool you, it just means he's a slice above the rest. It doesn't really mean anything but it's meant to make people feel good about themselves. Plus, military service is always good if you want a special privilege or two here and there. But let's not digress more than we have already. His more or less easy, patrol, peace-keeping, etc. And it just so happened that today, he had to interrogate a bunch of prisoners they had captured. Insurgents or raiders or something. Not that there's really a difference. He put on his jacket and his cap and left his office at the military camp where he worked. It was more of a booth to be frank but anyways. He went to the interrogation cage where most prisoners are put in temporary confinement. In reality it was an old zoo cage with a bit of newspaper padding on the ground and barbed wire horizontally wound around the bars due to cutbacks. Not that anyone seemed to complain. Aside from the prisoners themselves, of course.
  2. CLOSED Lucky Number 8

    OOC: Private RP between myself and Kyo, rated NC-17. LUCKY NUMBER 8 The full moon looked down upon the city of Tokyo, though most of it's cream-coloured light could not reach the depths of the city. Instead, bright lamps illuminated the streets, and brilliant neon signs seemed to adorn every available shop front. Tonight was like any other night. A night of endless possibilities. Bars and nightclubs were in full swing now, the bouncers refused those who didn't dress or look the part. Drunk businessmen, relieved at the end of their working week, half-stumbled their way down the flight of stairs into the Tokyo underground. Tokyo was truly a city that never slept. Thousands upon thousands walked the streets at any one time, whether going to work, coming back from it or just moving through the city. A young woman in her mid-20's moved with the crowd as the lights turned from green to red and the cars came to a stop. Her long, wavy golden hair bobbed as she walked. Her skin was pale and her eyes an unusual golden amber, her lips were a brilliant red. She was attractive and voluptuous, but at the same time she was relatively short, and looked as though she could stand to eat a little more. She was dressed in black trousers, a white blouse and practical black boots. Over her blouse she wore a long dark brown coat with rigid shoulders and an upturned collar. She moved quickly through the crowd without issue, smiling at anyone who glanced at her, as many did. Her face was warm and welcoming, and she had a wide, toothy grin - though her eyes looked a little too intense for her soft face. She crossed the street and looked up at the building she had arrived at. A skyscraper that stretched as far as the eye could see. She glanced up at the crisp, clean windows above her and then walked in. The moment she stepped inside, she could feel the change in temperature. It was a little chilly out right now, but the building's interior was slightly above room temperature. She walked up to the reception counter and waited patiently while the dark-haired receptionist finished the call he was on and hung up. "Evening Miss, how may I help you?" The man smiled at her, and she mimicked him. "Evening!" She replied, energetically, "I'm Hayashi Hitomi, your boss was expecting me." The receptionist looked her over a second time, unsure. Hitomi chuckled, putting her hand to her lips, "Oh i'm sorry, here--" She reached up and undid the top button of her blouse and pulled it down, just above her left breast was a dark red tattoo of a snake consuming a sword - blade first. "A-ah!" The receptionist averted his eyes and bowed before picking up the phone in front of him. "She's here." He said, and watched as Hitomi strode past him towards the elevator and pressed the button with a sigh. She absent-mindedly tapped the pockets of her coat until she found what she was looking for and pulled it out as the doors opened. She pulled a stick of gum from it's wrapper and stuffed it into her mouth, blowing a bubble as the doors closed in front of her. The 65th floor. Doors chimed as they slid open and she stepped out. The room she entered was quite unlike the reception below. This room was dark, lit only with a single, simple lamp upon a long, well-varnished table. Every seat at the table had been taken, and so when Hitomi strolled into the room and glanced at those present, she laughed. "Isn't anyone going to offer a girl a seat?" She asked. Those at the table remained silent. "Alright." She added, grinning. She took the gum from her mouth and licked her lips, savouring the cherry flavour before squishing the gum under the table in front of her, much to the grimaces of the older men and women present. "You were brought here for a reason." A man in his 50's with a short, grey goatee spoke up. "Show some respect, Miss Hayashi." "Oooh?" Hitomi's eyes expanded in surprise, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to mark your table, i'm so stupid, let me just--" "Enough!!" The man barked, "The table can be cleaned, but do not presume to entertain us with your theatrics." Suddenly, Hitomi's expression changed. The smile washed from her face, and her intense eyes grew stern and calculating. She scanned the table and focused her attention on the old man, and smiled. But this time, it held no warmth. "Fine." Her voice was colder now, holding none of the charm or energy it once had. "I was busy, so what do you want, old man?" The board member snarled at her and quick as a flash, Hitomi opened her mouth and her teeth were all thick, long fangs. She snarled back at the man, her eyes wild and bloodthirsty. The sound of clapping distracted her and she closed her mouth and coughed delicately and when her smile returned, her teeth appeared human once again. "That's enough." A man at the far end of the table stood up, "I didn't bring an Orochi here to antagonise my board members." The man was in his early 30's and had black, slicked-back hair. His suit was a dark blue and looked particularly expensive. He carried an air of authority about him. "Hayashi Hitomi, this is not a conversation. The higher-ups have given me an order to relay to you as they were unable to contact you directly," The man paused until he was sure Hitomi was listening, "You are to make contact with a human called Dr. Ikitsuki Munenori and--" "-- I know that name." Hitomi replied instantly, her face was cool but her eyes were excited, "You want me to eat him?" "No. Nothing like that." The director replied, "You have a new assignment. You are to work alongside the Doctor, to ascertain a reason for the recent murders of our kind." "Shit happens." Hitomi muttered. "Yes, 'shit' most certainly does happen. But this isn't over territory or sport, these are serial killings and usually we find some kind of evidence left behind, but so far there's been nothing. Frankly, the murders have started to spill over into the human news. They're already calling the murderer the 'Crimson Mist'," The director let out a hollow laugh, "Because most of the body is spread across the surroundings of the crime scene, like a big balloon just popped." Hitomi grinned at the thought and then turned and walked away, entering the elevator once more. The doors closed and she started her way back down. One of the board members turned to their director and asked, "Why do the higher-ups want one of those things - and her of all of them - doing their dirty work?!" The director shook his head, "She's a wild card... I heard she once took her team into a hopeless situation, claiming it would be a success. She walked out alone with the prize in-hand. The only one to walk out. She's a weapon is all, they want to point her in the right direction and pull the trigger." He shook his head. The walk to Ikitsuki Munenori's apartment hadn't taken long. He seemed to live in a pleasant enough part of the city. She walked through the foyer and took the elevator up to the 16th floor. Walking past row after row of doors, she came to one labelled 'Ikitsuki' and stopped. Hitomi glanced left and right, but the hall was quiet. She looked down at the door and twisted the handle. Locked. "Humans..." Hitomi sneered, grabbed the handle and pushed. The door creaked and simultaneously the lock snapped and the door swung in. She stepped inside and looked around. Though the lights were off, she could see quite clearly in the darkness. His apartment was average to large, it was organised, almost so much so that it felt clinical. It was minimalist as well, and seemed to hold little of personal value. Hitomi strolled through the room, glancing at various objects until she fell upon a small cabinet and opened it without hesitation. Inside, there was a small selection of bottles. Several of them were clear crystal. Hitomi picked one up and inspected the amber liquid inside and grinned, then pulled the crystal stopper and sniffed, "Mmm..." She brought the bottle up to her lips and heard a noise. Hitomi turned to look towards the door, as it was pushed slowly open and a man stood in the doorway with a confused expression on his face. Placing the stopper back in the bottle and putting it down, Hitomi turned to face the man. "Oh, evening, Sir!" Hitomi's smile reappeared on her face and she became energetic once again. "I'm sorry to barge in, but I saw your door was broken, and I thought maybe someone inside was in trouble. Is this your home?" She asked, smiling as she bowed politely.
  3. NC-17 Taken

    Taken (Continued) Crystal strained herself to sit up straight and glanced at her body, realizing only now that she’d fallen asleep in full battle armor. For the first time since the war had begun, Crystal smiled and even laughed just a little at how absurd they looked. “I guess you’re right. Maybe we should take a shower…â€Crystal paused, unsure of what Storm would think of that suggestion. He didn’t like water, even if it was her water. She’d also thought before that moment that she would be comfortable with it. After losing Storm though, she knew that he was the only one for her. She didn’t want to leave his side for even a moment right now either. She couldn’t help but feel a tightness in her chest at the thought that he was almost lost forever though, and it was only with deep breaths and self-control that she managed to hold back more tears.
  4. Meet me at Atatakai Onsen. The words glowed on the tiny screen of Daisuke's D-Terminal. He flipped the lid shut for the third time and put the device back into pocket. Slumping back on the couch, he let out a soft sigh, his right leg jack-hammering the floor from nerves. The television was on, but only provided a low indistinguishable buzz in the empty apartment. Sighing again, Daisuke took the D-Terminal out of his pocket and popped it open. From: Ken Ichijouji It'd been nine years since the day the two worlds united. All the first chosen children had graduated college, and the second chosen were soon to finish as well. Daisuke opted out of college, feeling that the "hands on" approach to life would benefit him more. It always had. His best friend Ken--of course--was top of his class at Tokyo University, excelling at being a criminal catcher detective or whatever. They still made time for each other, trying to see each other every other weekend. Though, truthfully, it was harder the past few months with some of Ken's major exams coming up. He didn't like to admit that he missed that stoic bastard as much as he did. Daisuke set his device down on the couch next to him. It was weird, though. It wasn't the act of receiving the text, but the subject of it. They'd never been to an onsen together before--they've never even talked about them before. Daisuke could think of so many better things to do than to sit naked in a bath of hot skin juice. But maybe it wasn't the lost time that was bothering him as much as it was the whole "being naked" thing... "Dai," Chibimon cheeped as he jumped onto Daisuke's twitching leg. "What's wrong?" Besides Ken, Chibimon was Daisuke's best friend. A blue digimon that stood about one foot tall had a heart about three times the size. And unfortunately, an incredibly keen sense of emotional distress. "Nothing, man. Well, I mean, it's something, but you wouldn't understand." "I'll try not to take offense to that." Chibimon huffed. "Good. Don't." They both sat in the living room for several minutes with only the sound of their own breathing and the mumble of the news from the television. Abruptly, Daisuke stood up, causing Chibimon to fling to the floor with a small protest, and paced a couple of times in front of the couch. Finally, he picked up the D-Terminal and navigated to Ken's message again. He quickly typed, "See you at 8" and shoved the device into his pocket for the final time. Shooting a quick glance at the clock, he groaned as he realized he only gave himself a half hour, and thus, no time to clean himself up properly. Running his thumb and index finger across his scruffy chin, he sighed and rushed off to his bedroom. "Dai~!" Chibimon scrambled after his partner. "Where are we going?" "To the Digital World. Make sure to pack your swimsuit." "But I don't--" With two fluid motions, Daisuke grabbed Chibimon in one arm, his backpack in another, and the two began to digitize into the alternate reality.
  5. Light was only beginning to creep through the mesh covered window of the small bedroom. The room itself was cramped and untidy, with clothes and various objects scattered around it. There was a wooden stand with a variety of small ornaments, necklaces and trinkets strewn about over the top of it, and a circular mirror on the wall that was cracked, decorated with old and tattered photographs. On the bed there was a lump that was covered by a grey wool blanket, it's form rhythmically moving up and down as the slumbering person breathed. From outside there was the sound of scuffling feet across dirt, and then an unceremonious clang as the perpetrator banged something against the metallic wall of the hut. The lump shot up, pulling the blanket away, it's face covered by a mess of red hair. "Whu!?" It gasped, it's voice dazed and confused. "It's dawn!" The voice outside, a male voice, called in through the mesh window. "Get up." "Why does...who did...I didn't..." The mess of red hair replied, the voice lighter and clearly female. "Get up!" The male voice called and hammered the wall again, causing the red haired girl to stand up on her bed. "Alright! I'm up!" She barked. "Geez!" The red haired girl stretched up her arms, brushing them against the roof of the hut. Underneath the grey t-shirt and white panties, her body was lightly tanned, slim and curvaceous. She stepped down from her bed and brushed her hair away from her face as she gazed in to her mirror. Her face was smooth and tan, with a paler area around her eye-line. Her eyes were an emerald green and her lips a soft pink. She eyed the photographs and gave a soft smirk. Each of the people in them were strangers to her, but she loved photographs. Pulling her hair back in to a ponytail she left the mirror and scanned the floor for clothes that weren't too dirty. The girl pulled her T-shirt off and tossed it on the floor, before picking up a simple bra and putting it on. Next she picked up a brown t-shirt and sniffed it, pulling away with an expression of disgust before tossing it aside as well. This pattern continued until finally she emerged from the cabin she called home, dressed in a pair of blue denim short, a maroon t-shirt and a brown leather jacket. She had a pair of dusty, old goggles fixed around her head, with her bangs framing her face. Stood outside the cabin, leaning against a wall was an older man in his mid 20's. He was dressed in green combat trousers, black boots and a white vest shirt. His hair was dirty blonde and messy, shaved clean at the sides. "Morning, Avery." He said, his voice polite but his face fixed in a permanent scowl. "Morning, Leon." Avery replied as she sat herself on the dry, dusty ground. She plucked a pair of boots from the ground next to her door and tapped them, one of them relinquishing a yellow scorpion who fell on the ground and scampered off. "Sorry little guy." She said to the creature, "If I have to get up, you do too!" and she fell on to her back, sticking her bare feet in the air as she heaved the dirty, brown boots on to her feet. "Mack fixed your Dustrunner." Leon said as Avery tied her boot laces. "I'll need you to go on a run as soon as you're ready. We've went two days without, who knows what could be lying out there." "It's not like there's more stuff turning up, y'know." Avery replied as she stood up. "There's nothing new out in the Wastelands." "Well we could use more scrap. And some power cells if you find any." Leon said as he began to walk away. "Lucy has breakfast ready, I'd get in there before it's all gone." "Will do, Cap'n" Avery said with a mock salute. "Don't call me that." Leon replied, before sheepishly kicking the dirt and walking away. Avery set off through the town. It was small, and most of the buildings were like her own, makeshift huts made of rusted sheets of metal and mesh. The ground was dry and cracked, and in this place water was scarce. The town was effectively a shanty town, but there were a few signs of something more. Avery passed by a portion of lands full of lush, green vegetables and bushes. All made possible by the machine hooked up next to it, which cast a barely visible dome around the area. The machine made the conditions better for growing vegetables and fruit. However they still needed water, and farms always got priority with that. Their water source was a large warehouse-like building that was actually a water mine. Workers in the town worked all through the day, using special machines to draw moisture out from the earth. Another farm was home to livestock, a bunch of large, slow creatures called Grendels. Despite the large, dangerous looking horns on their head, they were actually quite docile, and they lived on dry desert roots which made them easy to provide for. Finally Avery made her way to a small shack with a large hatch, where people from the town were queuing for bowls of food. She gave a sigh as she resigned herself to waiting in the queue, her belly giving a soft rumble. However as she stepped in to the line, the woman at the hatch whistled at her, and ushered her to come forward. "Avery, sweetheart!" The woman cooed softly. She was an elderly woman with dark, wrinkled skin and grey hair tied back in a bun, and a dirty apron around her chest. "I saved you a bowl. Leon says you're going out on the range today, you'll need your strength." "Aw, thanks Lucy!" Avery said with a smile. Lucy handed her a bowl of what looked like yellow slop. She spooned it in to her mouth and guzzled it down. It wasn't the tastiest thing in the world, but it was a hearty meal that would keep her going on her travels. Thanking the old cook, she handed the bowl back and was on her way. At the edge of the town there was a small garage that was built next to a large wall, where men carrying guns were stationed on watch towers. There was plenty to be scared of out in the Wasteland, so the wall was necessary. She turned her head back towards the centre of the town and gazed upon the large tower that stood over all the buildings. At the very top of the tower was a large sphere, spinning rapidly and occasionally sparking electricity. The Tower was the only thing keeping their town going, and if anyone ever took it from them, they would all perish. Avery pressed on, stepping in to the garage where a man in a green jumpsuit was busy welding something, his face covered by a large welding mask. "Morning, Mack!" Avery called loudly over the hissing noise of the blowtorch. The hissing stopped as Mack turned the blowtorch off and pulled the mask from his face, to reveal a middle aged man with tired eyes and scarred cheeks from razor burn. He gave her a soft smile. "And a good morning to you, Avery!" he said back. "Did Leon tell you I fixed your Dustrunner?" "He sure did." Avery replied brightly. "What about my...uh...thingy?" "Thingy?" Mack parroted, before giving a soft nod. "Oh you mean the music thingy." he said as he went over to a shelf and rummaged around. Finally he picked up a small handheld machine, with a pair of headphones attached. He handed them to Avery and gave another smile. "Good as new." He said. "Whoo!" Avery replied joyously as she pocketed the device, and placed the headphones over her head. She made her way over to the metal machine that was sat by the door. The design was sleek, with a lightweight chassis built around a cockpit consisting of two main levers for thrust, as well as various dials to adjust the performance, and a screen with a simple radar system. She hopped on the the Dustrunner and checked the compartments for everything she needed. Most importantly there was a box of ammunition sat next to a silver assault rifle with a black scope. "So is she good as new?" "She wasn't good as new when we dug her up in the first place, Avery." Mack replied as he lit a rolled cigarette he had taken from his pocket. "But she won't mind if you gun her, if that's what you're askin'?" "Nice!" Avery said with a wide grin. "Alrighty! Well I better get going. Gotta make up for lost time." "You be careful now, young lady." Mack said as he approached her and gave her a soft pat on the back. Avery responded by pulling the cigarette from his mouth and stealing a drag, before placing it back. She turned a key in the Dustrunner's ignition and it suddenly came to life with a high-pitched hum. As the engine kicked in the Dustrunner rose up from the ground, hovering gently a few feet from it. "You know me, Mack! Always careful!" Avery said with a grin as she pulled her goggles down over her eyes. "Tell them to open the gate." Mack went over to the garage entrance and gave a high-pitched whistle. After a brief moment, the large gate that was the only entrance to the town, began to rise up. Avery gave a soft chuckle as she turned on her little music maker, and a gritty, upbeat sound filled her ears. She had no idea what instrument would make that sound, or even how old the song was. Music was just one of the things that had been buried and lost by time. She pushed the levers forward and the Dustrunner shot out of the garage like a bat out of hell, and as she gently pulled on of the levers back the runner arced itself to turn the corner and sped off through the gate. The runner tore through the dusty plains, kicking up dirt behind it as it propelled over the mounds of rock and sailing through the air, before dropping back to the ground, stabilizing itself once more only a few feet from the dirt. Avery couldn't help but grin as she felt the wind across her face, cooling her from the usual burning heat. She ramped over another edge and suddenly found herself at the top of a large slope. Slowing herself for a moment she looked out on to the Wastelands. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but dry and lifeless desert. Anything beyond that was but a mystery. Travelling at night was suicide, so they could only get so far before they had to turn back. Sometimes Avery had dreams that she had managed to travel further. In some of her dreams she imagined that she had found an endless body of water. Enough for everyone to enjoy, and never go thirsty. Such a thing would be amazing, but she knew it didn't exist. Most likely all that was out there was more dry dirt. Shaking her head, Avery pushed the levers forward again and tore off in to the Wastelands. Hours later Avery had found herself at an old ruin. Chunks of metal and stone jutted out from the ground, from some ancient structure of unknown purpose. However such things were not entirely useless. She was searching for pieces of junk, scrap, or even remnants of a world long lost. Sometimes she would even find old photographs, artwork, or even the strange music maker she carried with her. Today's bounty was not quite so fascinating. She picked up the cylindrical tubes made of metal and glass and placed them in the satchel she was carrying. "Power Cells...Leon will be pleased, at least." She said to herself as she continued to rummage around. She was quickly finding that there wasn't much left that was of use. Picking up some bits of scrap metal she headed back to her Dustrunner, and tossed them in the small trailer-like compartment behind her seat, before placing her satchel in there as well. "I guess that will do for today." She said as she clapped her hands together to rid herself of the collected dirt and dust. There was likely only a few hours left before it got dark out. She had to make sure to return before dark. At night the Wastelands were much more dangerous. The temperature dropped and with such clear skies the night became extremely cold. What's more she would be plunged in to complete darkness, and navigation would be next to impossible. And yet that was not the worst of what made the night time so dangerous. There were also the ones who lurked the Wastelands. Creatures who dwell in the twisting caverns of the desert, the only other sentient species of this land, the Chulari. Typically the Chulari stood taller than Humans, usually around seven feet tall. Their eyes were pale and milky white. Their skin was a murky grey with small scales. Their legs were digitigrade, and their bare feet were tough and clawed. Their hands were four-fingered, and their chests were broad, with a narrow waist and slim mid sections. Their faces were mouth-less, and they had tentacle-like appendages growing out from their necks and chins. While hairless, their heads sported large crest-like crowns. Their biology was so different from humans, Avery didn't even know how they ate, or if they even had to. One thing was for sure, they were larger in number, and they were territorial and aggressive to a fault. While they didn't seem quite as clever as humans, they were smart enough to arm themselves. What's more their natural night vision and nocturnal activity made them a major threat at night. Thinking no more on it Avery revved up her Dustrunner once more and shot off through the plains. A few hours passed and the sun began to dip, until the sky became a brilliant red. While driving through the high grounds, her radar blipped to life. Something was moving, She slowed down the runner to a crawl, watching the radar as it continued to blimp. Coming to a stop on a high ledge, she took a metal object that looked like a pair of bincoculars. As she switched it on and peered through it, the screen zoomed in incredibly close, down in to the cavern below. As she watched the creatures moving her heart skipped a beat. The grey skin, the creepy mouthless faces. "Chulari..." She whispered to herself. "But...it's too early." Avery took her goggles off and looked out at the sky. It still wasn't quite night time. It was unusual for them to be out at this time. She peered through the visor again and this time she clocked a lump of brown cloth on the floor. One of the Chulari kicked it roughly across the dirt, and she saw a flash of dark skin, and black hair. "A human!" She gasped. It felt impossible. How could there be a human out here? All the humans lived in the town. She'd never seen one out in the Wastelands before. Peering through the visor she began to feel panic. If the Chulari had her then she was sure to die. At this point she knew it was too late. If she turned back to save her, she wouldn't make it home before dark. Even if she did turn back, she'd probably only get herself killed. "Shit!" she cursed. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" She thumped the console on the front of her Dustrunner and found herself shaking with anger, or perhaps fear. The thought of leaving someone to die like that...it made her sick. She clenched her fists, trying to steady her resolve. With a deep breath she pulled her goggles over her eyes again. Down below the Chulari spoke through strange clicks and groans that seemed, in every sense, unnatural. One of them picked up the dark skinned woman by her dreadlocked hair, and dragged her unconscious body along the dirt. The other Chulari held a strange rifle and seemed to be giving out orders to it's partner. Over there series of clicks and groans, a distant humming noise began to grow louder and louder. With another click the Chulari with the rifle turned to see the Dustrunner tearing across the plains towards them. Without hesitation he lifted the rifle and fired, strange bolts of plasma firing from the gun, straight for the Dustrunner. Avery banked a hard left, narrowly avoiding the spray of white hot plasma that hammered in to the dirt around her. She gunned the runner once more and pressed on, pulling a small grenade from the compartment and pulling the key out with her teeth, before hurling it ahead. The granade went off with a loud bang, and a brilliant white flash which caused the Chulari to wail in pain. Avery brought up her assault rifle and let loose a spray of bullets and she arced around the Chulari, causing them to retreat. As she neared the human woman she slowed to a stop and hopped off the Dustrunner. Knowing that reinforcements would be along any moment, Avery picked up the woman and heaved her on to the Dustrunner. Holding her tight over her knees she pushed the levers forward and tore off once more, as the sun finally disappeared over the mountains and darkness fell. Back at the town, Leon was cagey. He paced the path in front of the gate, a rifle gripped tightly in his hands. "Still no sign?" Mack asked as he leaned against the garage door, smoking another cigarette. "Nothing." Leon growled. "This isn't like her, something is wrong." "We could send a search party out, maybe she's not far." Mack suggested. "Not an option!" Leon spat. His tone was angry, but also filled with worry. "I won't risk more lives. Nobody knows the Wastelands like Avery. We wouldn't last five minutes." "Well, shit. You just gonna let her die then?" Mack said with a frown. "You just gonna close that gate and forget about her?" "You know that's not what I want!" Leon barked. "This...this isn't easy okay! I have this whole town to think of." "Hey Leon!" Someone called from the watch tower. "I can see something coming. It's moving fast, I think it's her!" "Keep the gate up!" Leon barked back, before aiming his rifle towards the gate. If it wasn't Avery, then whatever came through would be dead. He'd make sure of that. He waited, as the familiar hum of Avery's Dustrunner echoed in the night, and finally she emerged through the gate. Lowering his rifle Leon signalled to close the gate as Avery braked in front of him. "Where were you!?" He yelled. "You know how much of a risk that is!" "Leon, just hold on!" Avery cried as she pulled the woman from her Dustrunner and laid her out on the floor. "I found her...she's...human! A human from...well I don't know where. But-" "Get her out!" Leon snapped. "We don't open our doors to strangers. You know that!" "But Leon...she needs help!" Avery protested. "Look I know...I know I should have been back earlier." Tears were in Avery's eyes now. "But I couldn't leave her...she's one of us. But she's from somewhere else! Don't you get it? She's not from here." "I don't care. She could be a bandit! Or a murderer!" Leon snapped. "Leon...we don't call this place Haven for nothing." Avery replied tearfully. "She's unconscious...we need to help her. Please." Leon sighed, scratching his head as Avery cried quietly over the unconscious woman. Finally he shook his head and kicked the dirt in frustration. "Fine!" he said. "Get her to Doc! Quickly!"
  6. NC-17 Fandom Plots (MxF)

    Hello everyone, Celtic here! This is my first time posting a request thread here on this site and I'm hoping to find any detailed partners to write with. I consider myself semi-literate and I usually post two decent size paragraphs or more. Um, as the title states, I'm only interested in fandoms for now and I can play both Canons and OCs. My pairing preferences are as followed (YOU X ME): Canon x OC, Canon x Canon, and maybe OC x OC. Also just to give you guys a heads up, I'm not interested in any anime/manga, video-games, furries, and incest. Hmm, what else... I do love romance in all my plots/settings, but I do LOVE me some good ol' fashion action and adventure, too. Well, I believe that's it! If you like to know more about what I'm looking for in a partner or about me, feel free to stop by and drop me a PM. :) So to get this thing started, I already have some plots in mind: The Dark Knight Trilogy: Idea 1. My character is a new staff member and this is her first year working at Arkham Asylum and she is in charge of Dr. Jonathan Crane. During their time together, Crane starts to slowly manipulate her and manages to get my character to work for him. (We can add more to this plot.) Idea 2. My character is the youngest daughter of Jim Gordon and she's an detective who is on the hunt for Dr. Crane. Immediately when they come face to face for the first time, Crane is already obsessed with my character. She is then rescued by Batman (who returns after five years) and asks him if he could teach her how to fight crime like he does. (Again we can add more.) Enchanted: Idea 1. This follows the same basic story line from the film. Prince Edward goes to find Giselle, but meets an entirely different woman (my OC) and he falls in love with her. But this time he's stuck in New York and he can't go back to Andalasia, and so my character helps him make a living in the real world. Idea 2. My character is sort of like a ranger/huntsman and she is sent to New York by the evil queen to bring back Prince Edward and to kill Giselle instead of Nathaniel. (We can add more.) Ghost Adventures: The Ghost Adventures crew is investigating the abandoned Costello Grand Hotel in Manhattan, New York to investigate the claims of people seeing multiple apparitions, hearing voices, and possible demonic attacks and possessions. Upon arrival, the trio meets up with their client Susan Harrow a former maid who worked in the hotel back in the early seventies, and tells them the story of a young woman who was found brutally murdered in the main part of the theater of the hotel back in 1936. Nobody knows for sure, but some say it’s Lucy Costello; the daughter of the original owner and mob leader, Jack ‘Uncle Jack’ Costello. Wanting to further investigate the story of Lucy, Zak desperately tries to reach out to her and finds he’s in for a big surprise. One moment he’s in the back part of the theater searching for any signs of the young woman, the next he finds himself transported back to the year of 1936. Hairspray: Idea 1. My character is a twenty-two-year-old independent singer and songwriter who travels to Baltimore, Maryland. She comes across an old abandoned studio building that once aired the popular 6o's tv program: The Corny Collins Show. The next day, she wakes up and finds herself in the year of 1963. (I'm looking for someone to play Corny Collins for me.) Idea 2. My character is the oldest and quite ordinary sister of Amber Von Tussle who works with her mother on the set of the Corny Collins Show. She can't sing and can't dance, but she can paint! Her dream is to travel all over the world to study and paint abroad, but her mother won't have it; and so she's stuck being Amber's and her mother's assistant. The only person that truly makes her happy is Corny, but unfortunately he just sees her as a friend, until he meets my character's new boyfriend and he seems to be a little jealous for some reason. Indiana Jones: The year is 1940 and somebody has stolen the Crown Jewels and the MI5 are baffled. One day Dr. Jones receives a wire from the British Embassy stating the MI5 needs his help. Of course he has no interest in the case until one of their secret agents; a beautiful English woman meets Indy in person. She says he's the only one who can help them find the culprit since the thief left a hidden/coded message only Indy could decipher. The message is written in a dead language. Now he must travel to England with the stunning woman and help the agency before it's too late. Lord of the Rings: Idea 1. My character is a 28-year-old woman who works at the Smithsonian Institution and it's her first day on the job. She comes across a rather unique necklace that the curators still have not yet identified where it originally came from. The moment she touches it, she is transported into another world where fantasy-like creatures are real and dark forces are soon closing in. While exploring, she finds herself in a village called Meduseld and soon meets the handsome Rohirrim King. (This takes place a couple of years after the ring is destroyed and we can add more ideas to this.) Idea 2. My character is the younger daughter of Lord Elrond and decides against her father's wishes to live among Men. She travels to Edoras and soon becomes close friends with Eowyn and becomes the girl's lady-in-waiting. But the fair maiden's brother is not too thrilled of the idea of having an elf living under their roof. But in time he learns to soften up and starts falling in love with my character. Idea 3. My character is a beautiful Haradrim slave who is secretly being put up for auction at the Gondorian market. She is noticed by King Eomer who is out visiting Aragorn and decides to buy her and to set her free. But by law, she can only be free if someone speaks to the Haradrim leader and offers him riches. So now she is the King's slave and not too happy about it. (We can definitely add more to this plot.) The Notebook: Idea 1. My character has just graduated from Stanford University and travels to New York City to work at the New York Times as a journalist. She receives a strange letter (that explains a family inheritance she's never even heard of) at her new apartment from a man who claims to be her maternal grandfather, and asks her to travel to Charleston, South Carolina to meet him. She meets him at a local elderly home and he tells her of an historical plantation plot that was her mother's childhood home and puts the house under my character's name, since he's dying and he can't take care of it anymore. Curious, she checks out the old home and comes across an old photo album with a picture of two young handsome men in late 40's attire. She clearly recognizes that one of them is her grandfather, the other... she has no idea who except for the man's first two initials: L.H. She wakes up the next day and decides to check out who this L.H. guy was when something impossible happens-- Why are people dressed like they were from the 40's, and what happened to everything else? She starts to freak out when she meets the very man she was going to research on. Idea 2. My character and Lon Hammond were close childhood friends until they grew apart and went on with their separate lives; he went off to war and she became a teacher. After the war was officially over, they accidentally ran to each other in their hometown of Charleston, South Carolina; both of them happily engaged. My character had always been very fond of Lon and was (secretly) hoping he would come back in her life and sweep her off her feet. But it seemed to her that he only thought of her as a sister than a significant other. But when she found out about Lon and Allie were not together anymore, she decided the best way to be there for a friend is to comfort him. Star Trek (Abrams-verse): Idea 1. My character is the daughter of Captain Christopher Pike and she has just recently been enrolled to Starfleet Academy alongside Kirk and McCoy. The trio becomes fast friends and they do everything together. But unfortunately, my character has a major crush on Bones and she's too nervous and shy to make the first move and/or share her true feelings to him. Also like my character, Bones has a hard time sharing his feelings too. (We can add more to this, but basically is set before the first film.) Idea 2. My character wakes up from a deep hibernation sleep and she finds herself in the year/stardate 2259.24. She has no idea where she's at except she's in space and on a ship called the Enterprise. She has no memory of her past except the year she was born in and the year she fell into a deep sleep. Something happened all those years ago on Earth, and my character is the last remaining link to the past. (Basically Bones helps my character and starts having feelings for her. We can add more to this. This will take place after Into Darkness.) Idea 3. Again, my character is the daughter of Captain Pike. She, McCoy, and other science officers are beamed down on a planet when they are soon ambushed by a tribe of natives. The group gets separated and my character and Bones are lost in the forest. They need to somehow find their way back to their rendezvous point without the use of their communicators and phasers. During that time they develop an interest with each other. (Again, we can add more to this plot.) Idea 4. The Enterprise crew is on a diplomatic mission to please a rich aristocrat/prince and offers him to become an ally for the Federation, but unfortunately the mission goes wrong and the man takes and enslaves the most beautiful female crew members including my character; who is the younger daughter of Admiral Marcus. In order to free the females, a male must choose which woman to fight for. Bones has always liked my character and so he fights in her honor to save her. (This will take place after Into Darkness.) Superman/Returns: Idea 1. My character is Lois Lane's younger sister and she now works at the Daily Planet as a journalist. Ever since meeting Lois's fiance Richard White she's develop a huge crush, but she has always been the shy one. Now it seems she has a chance with him since Superman has returned and Lois ended her engagement. But she may never be with Richard when she gets herself caught and experimented on and now she's a freak with superpowers. Idea 2. My character is a beautiful Kryptonian and she has been taken in and brain-washed by Lex Luthor. Her main goal is to kill Superman. (Christopher Reeve or Brandon Routh. We can add more to this.) X-Men: (These are all Cyclops x OC related, but I'm willing to double. I will also like to point out that I will never play as Emma Frost or any other female canons with Scott Summers. But I will play as Jean Grey/OC against him.) Idea 1. It's almost time for the year-end exams and every year, one of the top students gets to be paired up with an X-Men in order to pass their two-part exam (a mock-up simulation and first mission). My character is the 18 year-old-daughter of Mystique and Sabertooth and she has just learned that she'll be mentored by Cyclops. During their time together, they start to develop an intense (love/hate) relationship while he's still with Jean. (Cinematic Universe) Idea 2. After the 'death' of Jean, Cyclops leaves the X-Mansion and goes rogue and comes across a 'hitchhiker' (my character), who he later finds out she's a mutant bounty hunter. She decides to tag along for the fun of it, when she later learns that she has been betrayed by her own father William Striker. And now she's a fugitive and teams up with Cyclops for justice. (Cinematic or 90's) Idea 3. My character is a doctor/nurse who is a spitting image of Jean. She comes across Scott laying off shore and decides to take him to the hospital where she works. After waking up from a coma, he has no memory of himself being a mutant and being part of the X-Men. And, he can see without the use of his visor/glasses. The two fall in love and he's finally happy, until he starts to remember... Now, he must decide if he should stay with my character or go back to the person he once was in order to protect to her. (Cinematic Universe) Idea 4. The teenage X-Men has finally graduated from high school and now teachers themselves along with my character. It's been great until Jean starts to change into becoming the Phoenix and she has vanished. She shows up a few months later and has sided with a powerful mutant who wants to destroy all human kind and mutants who defy him. And now it's up to the young X-Men to stop him and their beloved friend. (Evolution) Idea 5. A Powerful mutant has the power to time-travel and he sends Cyclops and my character or Jean Grey back to a time period (your choice) and they have to find a way to get back to their own time. (Shows or films) Idea 6. Project X has just created another wolverine-like clone (my character) and her orders are to terminate Wolverine and the others. Can a certain team leader get through to her or will she forever be a cold-blooded murderer? (Cinematic or Evolution) Idea 7. Cyclops and Wolverine volunteer to go back in time and to try to stop Mystique from assassinating Trask. The two men gets separated and Cyclops ends up finding my character who is also a mutant (and a undercover agent) and the two fall in love. He has to decide if he should stay behind or take her back to his own time. But it will come with some severe consequences. (This will take place during DoFP and that Cyclops never died in Last Stand)
  7. OOC: Private RP between myself and Erogenous Enigma. Rated 'NC-17' for violence, gore and dark themes. Forged by Fate Svarda, the ancient human capital. Home of the White Palace that has held the line of human Kings and Queens since the beginning of recorded time. Now the property of the usurper Queen, the Sorceress known as Aedra. She strode down it's white marble halls, assessing her surroundings as she went. Her quick, gliding steps echoing through the palace as a general of her armies, clad in black armour, struggled to keep pace with her. "Have you any news, General?" The Sorceress inquired, in a curious tone. The man was huffing as he spoke, "We... have six reports, Majesty." He took a deep breath, "None have returned... with any news of the egg." Instantly, the Sorceress came to a halt and whirled on the General, and he was immediately struck by her terrible beauty. She was tall and curvaceous, slick black hair flowed over her head and fell down to her waist. Sharp, angular features framed by a pair of piercing green eyes and ivory skin. He struggled to come to a stop and quickly assumed a rigid salute. "It has been, what?" The Sorceress feigned forgetfulness, "5 years...?" She queried, "Since your forces ambushed that Elven escort party, and yet, my egg remains lost. Why is that?" Her face tightened as her gaze bore down on the man, he trembled before her and licked his dry lips. "I... well, when the egg..." He wavered, looking for an answer, "You see, it was magic, Majesty." "I know magic, General. What I don't understand is your excuses. That Elf could only have teleported that egg a few hundred miles, at most." "Well, I..." He began. "I'm tired of waiting." She placed one hand on her hip and looked around, spotting a Lieutenant at the end of the corridor, awaiting her in silence. "Yes, he'll do." She added, and looked back at the General. "Majesty?" The General asked, confused. "Your services are no longer required." She replied, smiled sweetly and then instantaneously the General crumpled to the floor, his life snuffed as easily as a candle's flame. The Sorceress turned to face the Lieutenant as a pair of guards behind her lifted the body of the General to take it away. "Lieutenant Gerren?" She asked, looking to the soldier with the scruffy sand-coloured hair. "Yes, your Majesty!" Gerren replied, saluting her. "I want you to take a unit of your finest soldiers, and track down what is rightfully mine." "Yes, your Majesty." Gerren replied, bowing. He turned to leave but the Queen's voice stopped him mid-step. "You are my General now, Rey Gerren. Do not fail me, as your predecessor had." Placing emphasis on 'fail', she left no confusion in her statement. He bowed once again and Queen Aedra was left in the halls of the palace, she smiled to herself and continued on her path to the main throne room. Meanwhile, nearly 100 miles south of Svarda, in the small town of Wayford, a young boy, no older than 17, slowly drifted from the realms of sleep and dream. The morning rays shone through his open window in the home he had been born in, the home that his deceased father had built. He had short, messy black hair and skin tanned by long days spent out in the sun. He had dark hazel eyes and his face, though handsome, was relatively plain and slim from a meagre diet. He yawned, content to remain in his bed until he heard a shout from downstairs. "Aeran?!" His mother called to him, she paused and then yelled again when she heard no response, "Aeran?!" "I'm up!" He called back to her, sighing and blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Well you better be, you need to go hunting again today, as you failed to bring us back any game yesterday - 'Master Archer'." She added with a playfully mocking tone. Aeran groaned and rubbed his face and then finally accepted there was no getting away from it, he had to get up. He poured a jug of cold water into a bowl and took a deep gulp before plunging his face into the icy liquid. He washed his face and his underarms and then threw the remaining water out of the window and got dressed. He pulled a pair of dark brown trousers on and then a long-sleeved white shirt, followed by a pair of leather boots and a dark brown leather jerkin, fastening the buttons up to his collar bone. His family was poor, even as families went in Wayford, and they survived mostly on farming their own crops and hunting in the surrounding forest, so he had no mirror to check his appearance, but attempted to flatten his unruly hair all the same. "Morning." His mother smiled at him with a knowing expression, "Your breakfast is on the table." She added. Aeran sat at the table and ravenously attacked the miniature loaf of bread his mother had baked for him, it's warmth spread through his body like wildfire and by the time he'd finished it, he was fully awake. "Well I guess I better get going while it's early." Aeran grabbed his quiver, slinging it over his back with a full compliment of arrows and then reached for his elm-wood bow, his mother touched her hand upon his and kissed him on the cheek, "Be careful, okay? The town guard said they'd seen signs of monster activity and I don't know what i'd do if something happened to you." "I'll be careful." He muttered, reluctantly accepting her kiss before wiping his cheek. With that, he waved goodbye to his mother and walked outside into the fresh air, he closed the wooden door to their house and walked down the path. A couple of people were walking by, he recognized them from town but didn't know them personally very well, he knew they were friends of his mother but he couldn't recall their names. He nodded to them and they wished him luck with his hunt, and with that, he set foot into the twilight shadow of the forest. Nocking an arrow, Aeran slowly crept through the forest. He had been walking for what felt like an hour or more. He had seen signs of deer, but had so far only seen the fleeting shadow of a rabbit running through the brush. He cursed his lack of reflexes for having let it get away but decided it was best not to dwell on his mistake, and surged deeper into the forest. After a couple of hours, Aeran paused to take a quick break, he opened a satchel on the side of his quiver and took out a small waterskin which he drained and then ate the small lump of bread left beside it. Revitalised he pushed on, careful not to disturb the inhabitants of the forest. The sun overhead crept across the sky and upon seeing how late in the day it was, he was about ready to give up. Once again, he'd failed to bring anything back. He cursed to himself, angry at his inability to provide for his mother and then turned to make his way back home. But as he took his first step, something stopped him. He froze, confused at what had alerted him. For a long while he was silent, but readied his arrow in preparation. From perhaps 30 feet away, he heard a rustling sound. Aeran nocked his arrow once more, pulled back on the string and let the arrow fly. It soared through the air, vanished into a bush and then he heard rabbit's screech and a clang as metal hit metal. Aeran frowned and quickly ran over to the source of the noise and pawed his way through the bush just in time to see a rabbit vanishing into it's burrow. Distracted by the escaping animal Aeran shouted a curse into the forest, losing his temper. He twisted his bow in his hands, testing the wood with his anger until he finally released it, wary not to break something he couldn't likely replace. "Oh, what am I going to do with myself..." He sighed, kneeling down to gather his thoughts. He rubbed his face with his free hand but at that moment, something caught his eye and he remembered the strange sound. Fuelled by his curiosity, Aeran began looking for his arrow. After a few minutes, he found it embedded in the soft ground beside a large silver-coloured stone the size of a large watermelon. He gasped as he looked at the unusual stone, and once he'd placed his stray arrow back in it's quiver, he examined it in detail. Tapping the stone with his knuckles he heard the familiar metal noise once again, but when he checked the stone for a mark from the arrow, he could find none. In fact, the stone was so smooth and frictionless that he felt as though his hands slipped over polished ice. "What in the world is this..." He muttered, curiously rubbing his chin. The ground below the stone looked as though it had been scorched by something, but the stone itself seemed to be an ambient temperature. He paused as he considered the object but although it clearly wasn't edible, he wanted to bring it home anyway, it fascinated him. As he lifted the stone from the ground he noticed how light it was, despite it's size. He reached over his shoulder and pulled a small sack from a pocket in the side of his quiver and started to cover the stone with it, but as he did so the sack caught fire as if it had been thrust into a furnace. "Hey!!" Aeran cried and flung the sack across the ground and quickly stamped on it to put the fire out. He looked back at the stone and glared at it, confused and fearful but if anything, more curious than ever. "I guess..." He whispered and leant back down to cautiously touch the stone, yet it was still quite cool, "... i'll just carry it." He finished his thought and then lifted the stone and smiled at it appreciatively. He started his trek home but it was almost dark by the time he arrived. He watched as villagers ran to and fro, holding torches to light their way. The whole village was in an uproar. "What's going on?" He called out, asking a passing farmer he knew as Layton. Layton glanced once at the stone in the boy's hands and then met Aeran's gaze, "Karlod, the Blacksmith - he's been murdered!" "What?!" Aeran's voice cracked as his surprise exploded on his face, "By who?!" He pressed the famer. "By the Gods, I don't know, but the town guard said it was a monster!!" Layton began scurrying away, "They even sent word to Northhaven to send one of the Queen's yellow-eyed monster hunters, but Gods preserve us, they're no better. We'll be overrun by monsters by daybreak, you just see!!" Humbled by his exchange with the farmer, Aeran walked home in a daze. He nodded to his mother, apologising for his failure during the hunt. She didn't question the stone in his hands and so he walked up to his room. Closing the door behind him, Aeran set the silvery stone down beside his bed and let out such a long sigh that he could have been expelling all the day's worries from his mind and body. He felt like he could have fallen asleep right there and then, but he heard a loud bang from downstairs that roused him from his torpor. "Mother?!" He called down, for a long while there was no response, then at last. "I'm fine!" She called back up to him. Aeran relaxed and turned to look back at his new prize, the silvery stone from the forest. Something was wrong with it though, he rushed over to look at the stone and let out a cry, "Oh, what have you done now, Aeran!" He chided himself, looking at the stone. A crack had formed in the stone, spoiling it's smooth surface. Before he had a chance to further delve into the depression that assaulted him at his now imperfect oddity, the stone wobbled and Aeran fell back in surprise, landing roughly on his backside. "Hey, stop!!" He barked at the stone, out of reflex. Strangely, it did so. He blinked slowly and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he'd imagined the stone moving. Then at once, the stone exploded outwards, sending shards of it in every direction. Aeran yelped and shielded his eyes as he was pelted by the shards of stone and then after a moment he looked back to see nothing but a handful of shards remaining. "Ooooh..." He leant over and picked up a small, thin piece. "Damn..." He grunted, throwing it aside. Aeran pulled his knees up and rested his face on them. What else could go wrong today? He sat there in the middle of his room for a few minutes until he realised he was not alone. He lifted his head, brushing some of his messy black hair out of his face and looked around. He could feel a presence, something was watching him. He had the strange sensation that now he had become the rabbit in the forest. He could hear a quiet panting, and tried to hone in on it's origin. After a few moments, he realised it was coming from under his bed. He stared into the darkness and waited, afraid to move any closer and yet somehow rooted to the spot. He had to know what it was. A pair of dark shimmering eyes glistened in the darkness, like two drops of oil on the surface of a body of water. Aeran's breath caught in his throat as he watched a lizard the size of a small dog crawl from the underside of his bed. The creature was covered in bright silver scales and had a face with a long muzzle. Long, razor-sharp talons clicked off the wooden flooring and when it yawned, he saw a mouth full of dagger-like teeth. The most unusual thing about this lizard however, was that on it's back, was a pair of wings, each with a span as long as his outstretched arm. Despite his fear of the creature, he was drawn to it, as though gravity was pulling at him. The lizard seemed affected by the same thing, and as their eyes gazed into one another, their foreheads touched and Aeran felt a burning sensation emanating from his forehead, where it spread out and smothered his entire body. He felt like he was on fire, he became dizzy, the world tumbled before him as the candle in his room became so bright that it blinded him, and then he collapsed to the floor, falling deep into a dreamless sleep. When Aeran finally awoke, he felt as though he'd been running for miles. His whole body ached and burned. Stumbling to his feet, he looked around his room, spotting the strange lizard lying on his bed, watching him quietly. "What did you do...?" He asked the creature, but it simply stared at him. He didn't know why he had expected an answer, and the idea of the creature replying to him made him laugh and feel more than a little silly. He walked over to his water jug, feeling uncertain on his feet, then filled the bowl with water and went to dive his face into the ice-cold water. Before his face touched the surface, however, he noticed something different about his face. He brought his hand up to touch his forehead, unconvinced until he felt the smooth white surface of the skin. In the centre of his forehead, just above the bridge of his nose, he had an upside down tear-drop-shaped scar. He looked back at the lizard and shook his head, "What did you do to me, eh...?" He asked quietly, just then he heard another strange noise from downstairs and his attention flicked back to his mother. "Just..." He paused, feeling stupid for addressing the creature, "... stay here, alright?" The lizard stared back at him and he shook his head again, almost laughing. Aeran ran downstairs and fell upon a confusing sight. He saw his mother lying on the floor, her eyes fixed upon the ceiling with an empty stare. Blood covered the ground around her, and yet, standing over her, he saw his mother with her back to him. He stared at the scene for a few moments as his brain ticked over, trying to understand what he was looking at, and when it failed to come back with an answer, he stupidly said, "I don't understand." His mother turned to look at him, at least the mother that was stood over her other body. "It's okay sweetheart," She cooed, her face contorting into an unusually wide grin, "Mother's here." She added, raising her hands to offer an embrace. Aeran turned his gaze from her wild eyes down to the blood that coated the lower half of her face. "I don't understand..." He repeated, drawing his arms up to his chest in fear and confusion. As his other mother stepped towards him, her gaze locked upon him, the front door smashed inwards, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. His mother whirled around, turning her attention to the door as a figure stepped through it, brandishing a weapon.
  8. NC-17 Outcast

    “Loser. This world should be rid of you.†Joi looked up from her desk. Her mother was beaming down at her, her face warm and tender as always. Joi could not express how much she loved her Mum. She was the only person Joi ever saw on a daily basis, and Joi loved listening to her sweet voice. She was such a simple woman, and the simpler and more pleasant she was, the more determined Joi was to become her idea of the perfect daughter. “Here, have some hot soup, darling,†said her mother. “Are you going out today?†“Thanks, Mum, and no, no I’m not,†replied Joi, her head bent, ostensibly over the soup. “Cricket and Thalfay invited me to play with them, so I’ll be here all day.†She saw from the corner of her eye her mother heave a sigh of relief. Her hand slipped unobtrusively to her Pocket Device, stuffing it into her pocket. Her mother had the decency not to pry into her online life, but it was an instinctive action anyway. “Well, have fun with your friends,†said her mother. “I won’t disturb you playing, so ring me up on the Pocket Device if you need me.†Joi watched as the buxom woman left the room and closed the door. She waited a few more seconds before taking her Pocket Device out again and opened it, watching the screen light flash white, and read the ten new messages that had appeared in the past hour. “People who can’t afford the PD xL Version 3 shouldn’t be allowed to live!†“We’re not paying taxes to support barbarians in our society.†“Don’t you feel ashamed opening your eyes everyday?†The last message was from Thalfay, a person Joi suspected she knew in person, for Thalfay would not fail to send her a message on her birthdays every year, replete with all kinds of unpleasant death wishes. Joi was used to all of these. She lived in a world where everyone had to have the modern, newest technology. Her Pocket Device, originally a pink rectangular gadget, had developed black spots from age, a rare sight in the world. Or at least, it probably was rare. Joi had not stepped out of her house very often, and had no idea what other Pocket Devices had to look. It had appeared as a shiny clean thing when she got it at first, though, the result of her mother’s hard-earned savings over the years as a cleaning lady, and she figured that if people outside changed their PDs every four months, their items probably never had the chance to decompose like hers seemed to be doing. It was a relief to be alone in the room for a few hours at least, where her mother would think she was socialising. She badly wanted to leave the house, to get away from the suffocating oppression of invisible people, but there had been news again, of a gory death by the riverbank. The corpse had been buried under one metre of snow, and only found a month later by an old man who had been chased out of his house. What was scariest was that the corpse had been found with its organs missing, yet there was not a single incision on its body. Joi had not minded the mass panic. The streets would be even quieter than before, and she didn’t even mind the biting chilly wind that often struck in December. It was the perfect place to be alone. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea was. There was nothing to do in her room aside from facing her PD, which was now flashing with an ominous blue light to indicate more messages incoming. People from all over the world were jumping on the bandwagon to hurl insults. She got out of bed, dusted down a coat in her closet, put it on, and slipped out of the room.
  9. CLOSED Darkness Falls

    OOC: Private RP between myself and Erogenous Enigma, rated NC-17 for violence, gore and dark themes, etc. DARKNESS FALLS "Fairy tales do not tell children that monsters exist. Children already know that monsters exist. Fairy tales tell children that monsters can be killed." Galatris, capital city of Lunaria. Named for the holy divine, Galatea. It is a trade hub, home to the royal family, to Queen Theresa, known for it's art and music as well as it's night life. But crime is also rife here, pickpockets are everywhere and most murders go unsolved. The police are fighting a losing war against crime on the streets of Galatris. For every crime they solve, five more pop up in it's place. It is like a living monster, a hydra. Unfortunately, real monsters are out of their skill range, for that, a Wolf is required... The train lurched as it pulled into the station, groaning in discomfort while the doors of the compartments opened and hundreds flocked out onto the platform. Many of them stayed close to the train, looking it over and talking about it. The people of Galatris were still unused to travelling by railroad between the major cities. It was a very recent feat of technology, and while not an unwelcome one - for the sights of the countryside could be quite beautiful on the ride over - it still created a feeling of disquiet and unease amongst the passengers. Save for one man. He stepped from the train with purpose, dressed immaculately in fine clothing. Crisp black trousers and shining black boots, a pearl white shirt with a crimson vest and a black coat. He pulled a gold pocket watch from his vest coat pocket and clicked it open, cradling it carefully with hands covered by black gloves. After a moment's examination he clicked the watch shut and replaced it, watching the throngs of people move around him with a slight, lop-sided grin. The man was handsome enough, with slightly tan skin and hazel eyes. His dark brown hair was long yet a little unkempt, as though he had been sticking his head out a window on the train ride over, for which he tried to correct by brushing it back out of his face. He had a light stubble growing on his face, he had perhaps not shaved for a day or so. But in spite of his slightly dishevelled appearance, he looked every part a gentleman. Once he was happy with his appearance, he picked up his carry case which despite it's size, appeared to be quite light, and in his spare hand picked up a long black cane with an intricately carved metal handle shaped like the head of a wolf. Upon leaving the station, he could finally appreciate the moon and it's gentle light casting itself across the dark, dingy street. Occasionally a horse-drawn carriage passed him in the middle of the road, but most of the traffic for the evening had died down, after all, it was an unreasonable hour. He had a few things to attend to this evening, however, and time was of the essence, for he knew that if he was not swift, his target of interest would escape him yet again. He was patient, but he also did not want to play the cat to his mouse any longer, whether they knew it or not, he would soon be upon them. The city was just another stop for him, he was going to meet an informant who claimed to have ironclad evidence of his target's next location, so he hailed a passing carriage and started to climb aboard. "Oh, sorry sir. Wait one moment, i'll get your bag." The driver offered, immediately stepping down from his seat at the front. "It's fine, driver. I like to keep my belongings close by." The man smiled back at the driver who already had his hand on the handle of the case and tried lifting it from his customer's grip, but couldn't. He wasn't sure if it was the man himself, or the weight of the bag, but despite the strength he was exerting the case did not move. When his face began to turn pink in the cheeks, he finally relented and laughed, "By the divine, sir, you don't travel light, if you don't mind me sayin'." "Ordinarily, I would. This is not for me." He replied, stepping into the carriage as the driver shut the door behind him. The journey didn't take long, within a half hour the carriage rolled to a stop, he paid the driver and walked into an inn called the Fox and Hound. It had seen better days, but it was as good a place as any to meet his informant. When he arrived, he spoke to the owner who directed him upstairs. Third door on the right, he had said. And so he went upstairs, followed the owner's instructions and knocked three times on the door. He heard movement inside and listened intently. Footsteps quietly crossed the room, perhaps silently for anyone but himself. He heard breathing on the other side of the door and raised an eyebrow. He raised his cane and with a sharp tap, banged the metal head against the door. "Let me in, little pig!" He called, and heard a scuffle as the body inside recoiled and fumbled with the door handle. When the door swung open, he stepped inside and shut it behind him. The room was dark, lit only by a single candle on a table across the room. "Do you have everything I asked for?" He held up his large carry case and let it drop a couple inches above the ground. After the heavy thunk, a metallic sound rang out from the inside of the case. He watched as the figure in front of him stepped forwards to examine the case. He was a man in his early thirties, just as he himself appeared. The man took a single look over the case, glanced at him and then slightly opened it. What he saw inside delighted him and he hauled it off to one side, with a great degree of difficulty. "Alright." He said at last and crossed the room, indicating for him to follow. "Let me just get this straight, before we go any further, you're Alexander Lachance right?" "Right." Lex replied, smiling. "So, so this is all on the up and up right, I mean, i've never seen your face before, Mr. Lachance, but you're a Wolf and all, right? I mean, this ain't against the law or nothin' right?" He was nervous. The informant's heartbeat was racing, he could hear it, feel it. "It's alright." Lex said soothingly, "You have nothing to fear, just leave what I asked for by the table and be on your way." The informant nodded nervously and glanced at his face as he walked back towards the case, he noticed Alexander's hazel-coloured eyes, and thought for a moment, that in the right light, they seemed an amber hue. He picked up the case with both hands, and huffing as he left, said his goodbyes and wished Alexander well in his hunt, and closed the door to the room on his way out. For a moment, there was silence. Lex stretched and sighed, yawning - flashing an inhuman set of teeth. There were no flat molars, only wide, triangular fangs, almost like a shark's. His teeth instantly transformed the way he looked, and regardless of his serene expression, gave him a monstrous quality. Perhaps it was this that panicked the other occupant of the room, or perhaps he was just waking up for the first time since Lex had entered, either way, Lex walked over to the table and moved the candle to the edge before he sat on the free chair besides the restrained occupant of the other. "Evening." Lex half-bowed while sitting and the man in the chair groaned as his eyes looked around wildly. "Give me a moment, if you please." He added, and then picked up a small envelope on the table, tore it open with a single swipe of a fingernail which seemed more like a claw and then pulled out a short letter. The letter only held two lines, and read: Constance Geneve Drennen Hearthwood He was close now. Hearthwood was perhaps only a day's travel, and a lot less for him if he choose to make his own travel arrangements. And now, at least, he had a name to go with his target. She was travelling to Hearthwood then, just a small town. No doubt she'd gone there rather than come to Galatris because of the crowds and the stronger police presence so close to the royal palace. He would be upon her soon. Alexander was pulled from his thoughts by a nervous whimper from the restrained man in the chair beside him, so he laid the letter down on the table and turned his attention to this man. He was in his 40's, muscular and weather-worn. Perhaps a labourer. He had a mean face about him, piercing eyes and sallow cheeks. His mouth had been stuffed with a rag, which Alexander pulled free and smiled. "So, you're not having a very good evening, then." "Oh, you're very perceptive, ain't ye." The man growled, looking around the room for the first time and then back at Alexander. "What the FUCKING hell am I doing here? LET ME GO!!" The man yelled, and started to struggle to break his bonds, but they were too tight. "Well it seems my friend did a rather good job with those knots, what do you think - sailor?" He raised an eyebrow curiously as he examined them which only infuriated the man further. "I ain't done nothin', let me go!!" "Well that's funny," Lex replied, leaning on his cane. "Because my friend - the one who just left with that case full of gold? He tells me, that you are a rapist and a murderer." "He's a bloody liar!!" The man snapped. "Is he? Oh, alright then, I apologise." Lex stood up, leant forwards and sliced through the man's bonds. Quickly, the man was on his feet and stood as tall as Alexander himself, just over six foot. "It's a shame, really. You see, the last time I killed someone, they really deserved it and--" "You're a killer?" The man asked, frowning. "Oh, yes. Gratuitously." Alexander replied, in a mellifluous voice. "Oh..." The man fell silent, and the two stood before one another for a long while. Alexander knew that silence was better than questions, and so he allowed it to remain as such until at last the man choose to speak once again. "Hah, well..." He paused, eyeing Alexander, but something about him must have resonated with this man, as he nodded, "Alright, yeah, I killed her. Had my way with her too, when she was still 'bove ground, an' all. But she was askin' for it, she's a prostitute, it's just--" "-- she gets it all the time, why not right?" Alexander nodded. "EXACTLY!" The man agreed enthusiastically, "It's not like she gets paid much for it is it, so she must want it, stupid bitch was sayin' she didn't want it, but I know she did, they all did. She weren't the first, and she won't be the last neither." "Mmm," Lex mused, and smiled to the man. But this time, he parted his lips, and flashed the man his mouth full of fangs. "We're more alike than you might realise," The man recoiled so quickly, for a moment Lex thought he was trying to flee out of his own body. He tripped over the chair behind him and hit the floor, staring up at Alexander. "We're both monsters, I mean, myself literally, and you...? Figuratively, I suppose." "Leave me the fuck alone!!" The man squeeled and leapt up, pushing Alexander aside. He wasn't just running now, he was sprinting. He was just a couple more steps from the handle of the door when something brushed past him with an incredible speed and suddenly a hand darted out in front of him and grabbed him by the throat. "Well all monsters have to eat. You've had your fill, now i'll have mine." Lex threw the man across the room, he crashed into the table, snuffing the candle and it's warm orange glow, casting the room into darkness. A slight white-blue hue from the light of the moon cast across the floor, enough only to light the legs of the men inside that room. Alexander's predatory footsteps descended on the punch drunk rapist, who was attempting to pull himself to his feet. He had barely succeeded in this feat, when one of Alexander's gloves hit the floor and the rapist's feet were lifted two feet off the ground, suspended in the air as he choked. He tried to let out a scream, but the noise wouldn't leave his throat. Then he fell silent, his feet stopped shaking and Alexander released his grip on the man who collapsed to the ground, his face illuminated at last by the moon. The rapist had aged over fifty years! His skin was loose and wrinkled, his hair had turned a brilliant white and his eyes were sunken and nearly lifeless. He shook ever so slightly, with the rigours of old age suddenly upon him. Alexander picked up his glove, pulled it back on and placed his hand upon the head of his cane. "W-what... h-have you... d-done to m-me?!" He groaned, trying to stand back up. It took him almost a minute to do so, but when he was finally upright, Alexander pulled on the head of his cane, and the wolf's head came away. As the wolf's head left the cane, a long strip of metal went with it. For the cane was in fact a holster for a deadly looking sword. It shimmered in the moonlight and the rapist had time enough to question what had happened before the notion that his head had separated from his body reached his mind and his eyes rolled over as the head hit the ground with a wet thump, and the body collapsed beside it. Replacing the blade in his cane, Alexander left the inn. To Hearthwood.
  10. "Come on Pete, just let me read it," she pleaded. "Just relax Sam, it'll be finished soon," he responded quietly, pen poised upon his lips. She shook her head at him but a faint smile played across her features as she ran a hand over the small bulge in her stomach. "Have you thought of any names yet?" He scribbled a few words upon the notebook and responded with a shake of his head, framed eyes stealing a glance at the tiny baby bump his wife was massaging. "I'll give it some thought," he offered lightly, before returning to his own little world. Samantha ran her fingers through his hair and reclined her head upon a pillow, still smiling at the prospect of motherhood. ----- Peter lifted his head from the pillow, fingers blindly scrambling upon the bedside table in search of his glasses; finally seizing them, he hastily donned them and clicked his lamp on. With a quick glance at his watch, he shuffled out of bed and began murmuring to himself as he strode across the mostly darkened bedroom, pale moonlight failing to penetrate the many windows that adorned the walls. Down the hallway he roamed, his hands gesturing at the invisible ideas flowing from his lips; on cue, his right hand found a brass doorknob, and he lifted the slightly tilted door upward to prevent it from squeaking as he opened it. He peeked inside of his daughter's room, which was awash in a soft pink glow emitted from a night light; he monitored her for a moment, watching her chest and the teddy bear she clutched to it in her sleep rise and fall without effort. Sophie is safe Peter, now get to the typewriter. He closed the door with a cautiously slow deliberance before proceeding further down the hallway, eyes on his watch once again. His bare feet met the familiar cool metal of a slender spiral staircase, the muscle memory of the repetitive action kicking in; within moments, he found himself within his office, a spacious third floor of the house that housed his writing materials and more importantly, his creative space. "Ok, 3:23 in the morning," he mumbled softly as he approached his desk. His slender fingers were punching keys upon the typewriter before he had seated himself, or even had turned the desk lamp on; he eventually treated himself to the lamp's light after fifteen minutes of writing, and only because he had stopped to remove his cumbersome watch. His new novel was, sadly, coming along at a snail's pace; Peter was plagued by a nasty case of writer's block, but only because the characters of the story just weren't cooperating with him. His male lead, for example, refused to translate onto paper the way he visualized him inside his mind, which was infinitely frustrating. "Come on Michael," he uttered platonically, his fingers flying across the well-worn keys. It was going to be a long night. ----- The mug of forgotten coffee had long ago turned stone cold, but Peter was far too gone to even realize the rising sun eagerly awaiting his attention. He massaged his stubble and peered up at the ceiling, his fingertips aching; he hadn't accomplished much and that was a disappointing omen. His middle of the night writing sessions had proved fruitful for many years, but lately, they had caused him more frustration than anything. But why? His head tilted and the dull gleam of sunlight filtering in through the window behind him reflected off his wedding ring, catching his sore eyes. He studied the ring for a few moments, the symbolism not lost upon him; even though he was extremely tired, he could easily recognize the connection between the ring and his faltering storytelling ability. Somewhere outside, he heard birds chirping, their announcement of a new day causing him to flip over the watch on his desk. It read 6:26. Sophie will be awake soon and you need to get breakfast ready--it's a school day, after all. Heeding his mind's advice, he stood to his feet and scooped up the watch before switching off the lamp, leaving behind his workspace of turmoil in search of a more positive environment. ----- One of Peter's hidden talents was his ability to cook, and exceptionally well at that; it was a very therapeutic procedure for him, and sometimes Sophie would help him out in the kitchen. On most nights, he would let her choose what they would eat for dinner and he would set out to make sure the food knocked her socks off; he had gotten pretty good at it too, because she was even eating her vegetables now, which was a milestone victory in any parent's life. On this particular morning, he was putting together sausages, eggs and cheese on English muffins with silver dollar sized blueberry pancakes; he surprisingly found that he was ravenous this morning, which was uncharacteristic of him, seeing as how he wasn't a breakfast man. He set the table with care, plates and silverware for them both, though their beverages differed at orange juice for her, slightly-nauseating-reheated-burnt coffee for him. Peter patted his hands dry on his pajama pants and walked briskly over to the intercom; he had a system installed throughout the house, mostly because Sophie was sometimes afraid to venture to his room or office when she woke up in the middle of the night--the intercom eliminated that problem. "Sophie," he called through the intercom, hearing his own voice within her room up on the second floor, "time to wake up sleepyhead."
  11. CLOSED Darkness Falls

    Private RP between myself and ErogenousEnigma, rated for violence, descriptive blood/gore and dark themes. At night, you tell your children stories. Tales intended to keep them safe. To be wary, to be cautious. You tell them stories about wolves and witches and all manner of things that go bump in the night. They are metaphors for the true evils that exist in your world. We tell our children similar stories, stories meant to keep them safe. Because in our world, monsters are very real. But, what makes a monster? Is it their claws and fangs? Is it their nature? Or is it a choice they made. Okay, my dumb thoughts put to paper out of the way, this RP is about supernatural, bump-in-the-night monster hunting... stuff. It's a story where morality is so often blurred, that knowing who is good or evil (if the concept even exists) is difficult to gauge. Set in a Victorian-style fantasy Gothic world with minor steampunk elements (to facilitate a little basic technology). This is just a place to compile our thoughts and lore or discussion in general for our RP, so here's a start: LUNARIA The name of the continent our story is based in. While we might decide to create more later down the line, or reference them for characters who might be introduced from overseas, I thought it important to base the majority of our story (at least for the time being) in one place. Lunaria is a greatly varied continent however. Freezing mountain ranges to the north, and a desert to the east. The majority of the landmass is a mix of valley/forest, the weather is often quite poor however, and is well known to have more days when it is raining, snowing, foggy, etc. than it does when the sun is shining or the cold bite of the wind is absent. QUEEN THERESA Theresa Wolfswood rules all of Lunaria, and is much beloved by her people, however she is not perfect by any means and there has been a great deal of conflict and in-fighting during her rule. She is forced to deal with everything from the ever-present threat of monsters, to growing crime and lawlessness. Many of her people are sick or hungry, and her resources are often stretched thin. Despite these issues, she appears to genuinely care for her subjects. For example, it was Queen Theresa who created the first task force to deal exclusively with monsters. WOLVES/WOLF A 'Wolf' is the title given to a member of the Queen's monster-hunting task force. They are essentially above the law, given rights to hunt, judge and if necessary, to pardon or slay a potential suspect without fear of repercussion. Their ranks are chosen from with extreme care and many Wolves were originally members of the Queen's Royal Guard. But again, they are not without fault, and whether rumour or fact many stories circulate the Kingdom about their brutal and indiscriminate nature. As such, people fear them and they are mostly given a wide birth. They are commonly given derogatory titles such as 'Dogs of the Queen', 'The Royal Hounds', etc. TECHNOLOGY For the most part, it's a mixture between medieval and Victorian, on a case by case basis, but much like Victorian-era England, Lunaria is in an age of industrial revolution. Travel is still commonly by foot or by horse, but the first train lines have begun to be laid down between major cities. Lighting is usually by candle or oil lamps, but most technology is steam-based. Weapons are mostly melee in nature, however law-enforcement, the Queen's guard, etc. carry projectile weapons, albeit they are extremely flawed. Mostly due to inaccuracy or long-reload times. There are many 'modern' conveniences such as newspapers, cigarettes, etc. The utilisation of electricity is in it's infancy, but it has been used with success in one endeavour - the electric telegraph, whereby an electrical current is used to move magnetic needles and so transmit messages via code. However, this process requires great expense, and is only utilised in the major cities, and it would still require the recipient to check with a local message holder, otherwise they would obviously not receive the message. RELIGION There is only one major religion in Lunaria, known as the Church of the Divine. Their beliefs centre around a God called Galatea, who was once human but ascended to the heavens. Most Lunarians are followers of the Divine, to one extent or another and the church is an integral part for most of their lives, even the royal family shares and acknowledges the power of the church and it's current leader, Cardinal Richelieu. Followers of the church are often called 'Children of the Divine'. Priests are most commonly titled 'Father'/'Padre' if they are male, or 'Mother'/'Madre' if female. God is usually referred to as the 'Holy Mother', 'Divine Mother', 'Divine', etc. Men and women of the cloth who have devoted themselves to God, but have not taken the vows of the priesthood are called 'Acolytes'. MAGEEvery so often a human is born with unexplainable talents, they are known as mages, not to be confused with warlocks. Mages have an innate ability to connect with the world around them and forces that make the universe tick. Generally a mages’ powers can be grouped into a specific tree of skills: elemental, arcane, creation, and spirit. Occasionally a mage will have natural talent in more than one tree; however any mage can learn any tree with the proper training and instruction. The highest tier of mages are known as the high mages, who often have ability in as many as three of the known tiers, and are usually masters of their natural tree. A mage’s ‘natural tree’ is the tree in which they first showed signs of magic, which can show up in children as young as five. Elemental – Fire, cold, wind, lightning, water, earth; the manipulation and creation of these elements. Arcane – The manipulation of the magic in the air, sometimes called ‘force’ as these mages will often be seen performing amazing feats of acrobatics, by managing the magic around their own body. They can also manipulate the magic around other people ‘forcing’ them, as if they’re being pushed or pulled by an invisible force. Powerful arcane mages can draw the magic into a visible form, generally taking on a blue or purple tone. A strong enough person can resist an assault of arcane, but should they see a visible wave of arcane it is suggested they not try and resist it, but to quickly get out of its range. While most commonly used as a force, it can be manipulated into many shapes, mimicking attacks like a slash from a sword or a thrust from a spear. Creation – Sometimes referred to as ‘conjuration’ but as conjuration is often associated with summoning which is an ability known only to warlocks, the high mages prefer the term ‘creation.’ This tree is most commonly associated with healing as it has the ability to mend flesh by ‘creating’ new tissue, however it can also create items, or simple tools. Anything created that is not being sustained by some means – either the mage, or a living body – will disintegrate quickly. They also have some power over earth and are able to grow plants and greenery. They cannot grow a plant from nothing without having to constantly funnel magic into it, however the seed is all they need, or even a leaf, as long as it is not already dead.Spirit – Magic that directly manipulates an individual’s soul, whether their own or someone else’s, though the use of someone else’s soul is strictly forbade among the high mages. A powerful spirit mage has learned how to expand their own soul, which can be done slowly over time by the natural magic in the air, or quickly(and illegally) by the absorption of other souls. Spirit mages are highly feared and never allowed to join the hunters. Their own soul is their greatest tool, they can do many feats from the other trees but not to the same potential, they can cause more havoc and damage by just using the raw energy of their soul. WARLOCKA human who deals with demons in order to gain supernatural abilities. By ‘deal’ they are joining into some sort of contract or agreement in which the human aids the demon into the mortal realm through use of their body and soul and in return the demon will grant them power. These powers can resemble that of the demon they deal with, another creature of lore, or mage trees, sometimes it is a mix of abilities. Demons can sometimes communicate with humans via dreams or where the veil between worlds is thin, or the human can contact demons through a ritual or by summoning them directly to the mortal realm which usually results in a massacre. SHADEA Shade is a consumer of energy. They can feed on almost any kind of energy, with perhaps solar energy being the only real exception. They are powerful physical beings that grow stronger when well fed, but grow tired and weak when they go without a food source. Though they can feed on any kind of energy, most prefer to feed on the life energy of humans, even to the point of their death. It is thought that they do this because the human body releases some kind of dormant energy upon reaching a near-death state that is extremely powerful. Though powerful, they have several weaknesses. Without a food supply, they quickly weaken. Though they can exist in daylight, it also tires them, compounding any effects of lack of food.It is said that to be fed upon is the most painful experience known to humanity, and that the process of feeding ages the victim dramatically, so that even if they were to survive, they could have lost years, even decades from their life (this is likely the reason that Shades do not appear to age). Many also fear being turned into a Shade, but the truth is that it is extremely rare with perhaps only 1 in 1,000 ever contracting the disease, if that is even what it is. Even then, Shades rarely leave their meal alive, and if they are unable to finish feeding, they will often choose to kill their victim. There are many theories for this practice, but none have been proven. There are three things that identify a Shade: First, their teeth. Unlike a human, the teeth of a Shade are comprised entirely of triangular fangs. Second, their hands. A Shade's palms have marks on them, vertical cuts each around two inches long that allow them to feed as easily from their hands as they do their mouth. Third and last, their eyes. While a Shade's eyes will appear as normal as they were when they were human, should they go without feeding for any length of time, a change in colour begins to occur. First their eyes take on an amber hue, then a dark golden colour as it finally turns to an ever darkening and intensifying crimson.Shades do not tend to live amongst humans, although it is not unheard of, and it is likely that many do without our knowledge. For although they are powerful, physically, and have incredibly keen senses, they are not invincible. They have an incredible healing rate, but only when they have recently fed, and so they are creatures of guile and cunning. Choosing subterfuge and stealth, rather than brute force. There are rumours that a small minority of Shades are capable of manipulating magical forces to one extent or another, but this has been undocumented thus far, either because it does not exist, or because those with such powers have left no witnesses.There is no known hierarchy amongst their kind, and they are as likely to avoid one another as work together as Shades are capable of feeding on one another, though this is thought to only happen in rare cases of necessity. They lack emotion, empathy, and though rare compared to many other monsters in our world, they are considered one of our most hated and feared. NYMPHThey appear like normal humans but they are always beautiful and far more devious. Though their intentions are not to harm or kill, they often ruin marriages. They ‘feed’ off of sexual energy, and they do not discriminate in their partners. While they can survive without it, they crave it like a human craves sweets. They are no more powerful than the average human, they do however have magical charming capabilities that come through in their words and voice, making manipulation much easier. STALKERA bestial species, while they are bipedal they are no more intelligent than a pack of wolves. If they speak it is in growls and guttural sounds, but there is no proof that they understand each other beyond a basic instinct. They generally feed on humans. They are covered in fur of various colours, mostly black, or dark shades of grey or brown, they have a hunched over posture and stand on their toes like most quadruped creatures. Their hands have hard leather palms so they can run more like a beast with the aid of their hands, giving them a drastic boost to speed. JACKALOPEA small creature that looks much like a fox with large floppy ears, horns that can take various shapes, and can be found in a wide array of colors. While not particularly dangerous they are known for their mischievous ways and strange capabilities to enter into ones dreams. Mostly they go completely unnoticed, but will sometimes alter the flow of dreams, causing nightmares or simply awkward dreams. They are hyper sensitive to a person’s emotions and feelings and are sometimes kept as pets by nobles as a security means – assuming the noble can prove themselves to the creature. Name: Alexander Lachance Age: 31 (43) Appearance: http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y207/Sephy_dude/most_wanted_by_leejun35-d4tvzj2_zpsd4634b7e.jpg Personality: Though he is wise, aristocratic, well-spoken and charming, Alexander is also short-tempered, vain and extremely stubborn. He is patient up to a point, until he loses his temper but he does what he can to keep his stronger negative emotions in check. He can be inwardly self-deprecating, and struggles to balance his morals and humanity with his instincts and urgency to feed. History: Alexander remembers nothing of his parents, he was found abandoned on a church porch when he was a newborn. He had a relatively normal childhood, went to school, learnt the ways of the world, learned to read and write and yet he had always found peace and happiness in his faith, and so as soon as he was able he began studying to become a priest. When he was 24, he finished his studies, took his vows and spent the next 7 years tending to his flock at the very same church he had once been abandoned at. The day he returned, he found the church a crumbling shambles, but over the years and with support from the community he returned it to past glory and began holding service there. He had a simple life, but he was content. The night a Shade found it's way into the priest's rectory and began to feed upon his brothers and sisters, Alexander flung himself at the creature, hoping to wound or even kill it, or at least buy his adopted family time to escape. But the creature brushed him aside as the wind would a sheet of paper. When the Shade was done with the other priests, it came to him next. He would never forget the colour of it's eyes, changing from the darkest red he had ever seen, into a warm amber hue and even as it began to feed on him, he could not take his eyes from it's own. The amber irises turning to a light blue as he felt the life draining from him. The pain was unbearable, mind-numbing. He blacked out, not expecting to return to the living. Yet when he woke, something was different, over the coming days he found a sensitivity to light and a growing hunger that no food or drink would quench. He tried to hide his urges, tried to contain them, but eventually, the beast inside him won out, and by the time he was done, he stood over a bloodbath. He was a priest who had slaughtered his entire congregation, save for a young girl. She looked up at him, and he reached out, but before he could understand what he had intended something distracted him, his instincts told him to run, that he was too weak, too young, and so he ran into the night and never returned. 10 years passed. He came to understand what he was, what he was capable of, and despised it. For a time, he wandered aimlessly, feeding as sparingly as he could, hoping that he would cause nobody any further harm. However, after getting lost in a deep forest, and having not fed for almost a week, he was near death. When he finally found his way out, he fell upon the first unfortunate person he came across, and unable to stop himself, fed until they died. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, depending on your viewpoint) his victim had been a royal guard. He had found his way to the capital city, the home of the Queen herself. Before he had time to escape however, another human found him but this one was different. He called himself a Wolf, and he was far more skilled than the city guard. He heard tales of the Wolves as a child, and knew he was in mortal danger. He fought and managed to wound the man, but ultimately he was captured. He was tortured for weeks, studied and examined, asked questions of every facet of his life and nature. But in time, he found a sympathetic ear. It was in fact the man who had captured him, who went only by 'Leon'. Alexander and Leon came to know one another well, and eventually Leon suggested to his superiors that Alexander be allowed freedom under condition that he was to spend his life in service to the Wolves, and the Queen. Knowing it was this, or death, and that it might bring the possibility of saving lives as some small repentance for having taken so many, he accepted without hesitation and spent the following two years hunting those that would harm humankind. A monster hunting other monsters. Abilities: Alexander shares the various abilities of other Shades, including enhanced speed, agility, reflexes and strength as well as an abnormally fast healing rate (assuming he has fed recently). His senses are also particularly keen, but he has one ability that he gained and mastered over time that as far as he knows, he is the only one capable of using. Alexander is able to control his own centre of gravity using some form of instinctual air magic. Meaning he can scale walls as though he were walking on the floor, recline on ceilings, levitate and fly and become weightless or even extremely heavy if required, allowing multiple uses in and out of combat.
  12. Background As a species, our oldest, most primal fear is of the darkness. We vilify it in our language; the mere utterance of the term brings to mind wickedness and corruption. We hide from it, huddling in our homes and around our fires, praying for deliverance when the sun rises again. Since the dawn of humanity, we have sought to progressively banish it from our lives. In this day and age, these fears seem laughably quaint, mere stories to scare children into obedience. In an era of nights awash with neon lights and sleep cycles defined not by circadian rhythm but by caffeine intake, it is all too easy to forget that we feared the darkness for good reason -- that unknown to most, the things that made us fear the night still haunt the shadows of our shining cities. Stories of these nightmares made flesh pervade our collective consciousness, cautionary tales steeped in myth. While these horrors can come from the unknown, from the depths of the deep ocean to beyond the three familiar dimensions of reality, among the most insidious and dangerous of them are the ones who walk unseen among us. We have a thousand names in every language for these creatures: Naagloshii. Strigoi. Changelings. Youkai. I call them the Werebeasts. They're more common than one might expect. Walk down a busy street at peak hour, and one would almost certainly pass half a dozen of them. Unlike the other monsters I hunt, one cannot tell them apart from a normal human -- and many choose to live that way, holding back the beast within them. However, many give in to the lust for bloodshed -- or worse, use these monstrous powers for their cruel human whims. I, however, do not fear them. There are monsters in the world, but do the stories not say that monsters can be slain? I bear a weapon that can destroy these creatures for good, the light of deliverance forged into cold steel. I am not alone in this quest - I, like those who fight by my side, am humanity's bulwark against the darkness. We hunt the hunters. -- The journal of Auguste Zeppeli, 14 November 2011 Setting So this is an urban fantasy RP set in the modern day. The actual locale of the RP's yet to be decided; I'll probably just pull some fictional town out of my ass as usual. Basically, we, the player characters, fight werewolves. Or were-bears, or whatever were-animal is deemed appropriate. Or you play one of said were-whatevers and lay the smack down on some of your more immoral kin, if you'd prefer it that way. Anyway, here's some details of the setting. Werebeasts A person who turns into an animal, usually a predatory one. Records of their origins are spotty and contradictory -- many accounts show that the condition is hereditary, and yet anecdotes abound of Werebeasts being born to completely ordinary people. One won't turn into a Werebeast just by being bitten. Though there's a chance you'll catch a nasty case of rabies/avian flu/AIDS and die, of course. Initially, a werebeast's first transformations are involuntary and happen at night -- however, as they grow in strength, they can turn at will, even under broad daylight. Werebeasts possess powers typical to the creatures they transform into, with the strongest of them even possessing clearly supernatural abilities like precognition or teleportation. However, they share some common characteristics, among them being a pathological addiction to bloodshed and powerful regenerative abilities -- while sunlight weakens them and fire will hurt them (just as it will everything else; fire's very dependable), the only sure-fire way to slay a Werebeast is to completely destroy both their heart and their brain. The Anima Going up against incredibly durable, extremely fast and strong Werebeasts is a dicey proposition at best. While modern weaponry can prove an effective equalizer, if prone to collateral damage, the main weapons against these monsters are The Anima: weapons or armor that imbue their users with increased physical capabilities and supernatural powers. Anima seemingly have a will of their own, and when bound to a user, can be summoned and dismissed at will with some practice. While an Anima might grant several powers, a human can only be bound to one of them at once. Participants Wstfgl TriOctium Yajuu_Kikuishi Kyo HerculeHastings Still open for sign-ups, up to around 5 people. Please commit to posting with at least some semblance of regularity, or at least let us know if you're taking a hiatus. Rated NC-17 for violence and probable grimdark. Character Template Name: Age: Appearance: Personality: Anima/Werebeast Abilities: Miscellaneous:
  13. Rules of Nature

    All was quiet on the streets of Rome this night. It was winter, a dreary time when the days were short and the nights were long and bitterly cold --as expected, the usual throng of tourists that crowded the city's ancient streets had thinned out, and even at the great plazas and famous cathedrals that drew millions annually, there were few souls in sight. However, not all was well on this silent night -- beneath this veneer of serenity, a war was afoot. From a side street came the sounds of gunfire, promptly followed by a crash, the tinkle of shattering glass and the wail of a car siren. Moments later, a young woman with blonde hair hurtled around the corner and hit the ground running, followed closely on her heels by a monster. The creature was to a wolf what a mountain lion was to a house cat. This was a creature whose kind had last been seen when glaciers still covered Northern Europe; a resurrected nightmare from the dawn of humanity. It was almost as tall as a man at the shoulder, with a gaping maw filled with wicked fangs and steel-grey fur stained crimson with blood. It let loose a blood-curdling howl as it bounded after the girl, spittle dripping from its jaw as it pounced for the kill -- Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot rang out. Abruptly, the beast yelped in surprise as it hurtled skywards, somehow thrown airborne by an invisible force. It sailed helplessly over the girl, who extended her arm -- in her hand was a hexagonal steel rod a foot long, engraved with a series of strange, angular glyphs like the writing of a long-dead language. There was the crack of another gunshot, and the glyphs flashed with golden light, a near-invisible line of faint light extending from the wand's tip. The giant wolf passed through the line lengthwise, and finally hit the ground on all four paws with a loud thump. For a moment, silence reigned unbroken. Then, the wolf's body split apart lengthwise, with a torrent of blood spilling from the perfectly straight edges of the cut. The creature let out one final death gurgle, and silence descended once again. The girl grinned toothily as she gave the wands in her hands a flick -- the wands' frames snapped open, and twelve expended brass cartridges tinkled to the ground. Then, with a flash of light, the wands dissolved into golden motes, which streamed into the girl's hands and vanished. "Unless acted on by an external force, an object in motion stays in motion." She murmured to herself. "Isaac Newton's still the deadliest son of a bitch here on Earth, eh, wolf boy?" The sound of footsteps rang out nearby, and the girl turned to face the newcomer, a middle-aged man with a neatly-trimmed mustache and a checkered top hat. "An acceptable performance, Julia. However, I must note that you committed several egregious tactical errors in this battle -- if you'd been anywhere as good as Auguste, this fight would have lasted half as long. And we wouldn't have to bribe the carabinieri to write off that wrecked car." "It was a Hummer, Papa. An American-made monstrosity like that has no business driving on Italian roads." Julia said with a sigh. "No accounting for taste, but collateral damage is unacceptable. We're done here for the night; come along now." "Yes, father." ... "W-w-what?! You're sending me to America?!" Julia sputtered, her face turning beet red. "Did I not say it clearly? You're on the 7 am flight to Boston. Get packed." Her father replied curtly as he put down his glass of wine. There was a silence as the two locked gazes, interrupted only by the steady crackle of the antique fireplace. "B-but... Why? And why was I not told earlier?" Julia demanded. "Simply put, an old friend called in a favour. You'll have to take over the family name now that Auguste's gone -- it'd do you some good to cut your teeth on a real mission, rather than beating up second-rate Werebeasts here." The elder Zeppeli said, his hands folded beneath his chin and his expression unreadable. "A real mission? I thought you'd never trust I, a mere child, on something this risky," Julia said bitterly. "There will be risk, as with all things in life. It will pain me if I lose yet another child, but your death would only prove that you weren't worthy to take Auguste's place. That is all." her father stated, proffering a folded-up note towards her. "Get packed quickly. The taxi will arrive soon."
  14. Sanctuary

    Humans didn’t know of her kind beyond folklore, demons knew very little of them, and this was all intentional. If humans knew angels existed they would receive a great deal more prayers, and demons being the malicious creatures they are would find more dastardly ways to cause trouble if only to bring out a rise. This demon was one such creature. But of course, demons would be demons, they would always be nasty, vile creatures bent on ruining peaceful lives for all others. Her sister was weak, obviously, no self-respecting angel would surrender themselves to one of those creatures, certainly not willingly. ‘Fallen Angel’ was too polite a term for her sister, it didn’t truly capture how disgusting she had become. That she still held the title ‘Angel’ at all was abhorrent and simply unacceptable, given the chance Asuriel would kill her sister herself. The humans had turned ‘Fallen Angel’ into a fantastical term that drew thoughts of naughty angels with beautiful dark wings, that might have broken a rule or sinned one too many times, which was not the case at all. Fallen Angel was a title for an angel that had turned away from their kin, they were no more than traitorous wretch that needed to be put down, unfortunately that wasn’t Asuriel’s task. The ground was coming quickly, Asuriel appeared like an asteroid shot down from the heavens, the humans would call it a sign, label it with a hundred different meanings all across the globe, all it really meant was an angel had come to Earth for whatever reason. Her limbs burned, the flesh turning black as quickly as she materialized, her true form held no humanoid shape, she was pure, but in order to exist in this world she had to take on a human form and seal away her true form like stuffing it into a dark bag – it was unpleasant. Bright orange hair weaved from her scalp, streaming back in a thick heavy wave appearing like part of the fire that tried to eat at her flesh. Eyes sprung open just before she hit the ground, gold like the holy fire that was rolling over each limb healing the charred skin as quickly as it was cooked. The crater was massive, Asuriel choked as the gift of holy fire that had been placed on her to see her to Earth was quickly fading away letting the full effects of the mortal plane overcome her. Her own impact had created quite a mess; the ground seemed to be steaming and smoking, a hole sunken in as if a god had reached down and withdrew a handful of dirt. Standing up Asuriel brushed her limbs of the dirt, her marble skin already marred by dirt and grim, she sneered, ‘How unpleasant.’ As she climbed the wall of her crater she could hear footsteps in the distance, and the incessant chatter of humans. Before long they came upon her, two men - hunters from their attire and bows - staring at Asuriel in all her naked glory, her firey hair drifting around her like a halo just covering the peaks of her nipples and tickling her belly. Her gold eyes shone with darkness, she could practically feel their impure thoughts as they watched her. It seemed clothing would be a necessity among these primates. Moving to depart from their lustful eyes one of them dared to grab her and as quickly as his fingers had grazed over her forearm she had turned and struck him with the palm of her hand, his head snapping back and cracking his spine in an instant as well as sending him flying back several feet. The other human stood with his mouth gaping, the lust had turned to fear, “De-de-demon….†He stumbled for the one vile word as he twisted around and went running into the forest. Was he calling her a demon? Asuriel shrugged and headed in the opposite direction he had run. She had no time to dwell on humans, her task was to find a certain demon and put him down. Twenty steps in and she stepped on a rock, growling at the offending protrusion, clothing would definitely be required. From there on she watched her footing but her feet were baby soft, she had never traversed the mortal terrain before, her mortal form not designed for it. There was something uncomfortable about being in the direct sunlight and only within the shade did she find relief. Her hair seemed to be sticking to her forehead for some reason and her eyes hurt when she stared into the sun too long. This was supposed to be an easy task, kill a demon, go home; instead it was becoming far more strenuous and unpleasant. The amount of relief she felt when she stumbled upon a river was greater than the first time she’d watched a human fall in love, it was cool to her lips and felt divine sliding down her throat. Asuriel spent several long minutes basking in the cool water before she forced herself on. A half hour later she found a human village, like the hunters that had found her they stared at her with lust, the women with a mix of disgust and envy, did all humans partake in such vile thoughts? An older woman scurried up to her with a sense of urgency, as she reached her she held up a large sheet covering her from prying eyes. “Scat! Go on, get!†The elderly woman yelled at the many prying eyes. Asuriel stood with a raised brow, amused by the woman’s tactics. As the crowd started to dissipate the woman took a step closer and wrapped the sheet around Asuriel, the angel being quite a bit taller than the older woman she had to stand on tip toes and stretch to get it around her shoulders. “Come, now, hunny, you can’t be goin’ around like that, men have all sorts of vile thoughts for one such as yourself. Come on back to my house and I’ll get you a proper outfit and something warm in yer belly.†Asuriel smiled, pleased to find a human that didn’t seem filled with sin and followed her. What she found was quite unsettling. The woman’s ‘house’ was little more than a shack of only one room, her ‘bed’ was some furs on the floor. Sitting down on the furs she watched as the woman stirred a pot of stew, she put Asuriel to work chopping various vegetables to be added, which Asuriel found rather amusing, but aided her nonetheless. As the food came to a boil and the delicious armoa filled the shack something unusual occurred. At first it was only one, a young boy came up to the ‘door’ which was just a hanging matt, he peered in with big brown eyes and said “Grandma, is supper ready?†“Almost,†The elderly woman replied, “Go and fetch the others and tell them to clean up.†The boy disappeared behind the matt. Minutes later dozens of children returned, herding in the shack and outside, they touched Asuriel’s hair and spoke of her beauty, asking her many questions of which she could not answer. “Stop bothering the lady and go eat.†The elderly woman commanded and like obedient little chicks they hurried out the door with their bowls of soup. A bowl of the stew was pressed into Asuriel’s hands once all the children had disbursed, leaving just the two of them. “Are they all yours?†The angel inquired gently, eyeing the soup with uncertainty. The woman chuckled a deep sound from the pits of her round belly, “My no, no, they’re orphans mostly.†The gold of Asuriel’s eyes turned bright with realization and love, “Oh.†Raising the bowl to her lips she sipped the stew as there were no utensils in this poor abode. The flavor was bland, but to Asuriel who had never tasted food before it was the finest of meals. With bright eyes, she grinned, “Oh, it’s delicious, thank you.†The woman chuckled, “Well, most of the kids call me Grandma, but my name is Lenore, whichever is fine.†“Grandma Lenore? How sweet. My name is Asuriel and I thank you for your kindness, but I must be on my way, however, before I go, I wish to repay you, for your kindness to me and to the orphans.†Asuriel placed her empty bowl on the floor and stood up taking the two steps it took to stand before Lenore. Leaning down Asuriel kissed Lenore’s sweaty forehead, the taste of salt coating her lips as she pressed her purity into the elderly woman. “Find peace with my blessing, Lenore.†Lenore wouldn’t realize what Asuriel had done until the next morning when she would wake without aches and pains, when everything seemed to fall in place, as each carrot she would draw would seem to be bigger and juicier than the last, day by day Lenore’s touch would bring more life and beauty into the world simply by carrying Asuriel’s blessing. Asuriel left with Lenore’s cream sheet, drawing the fabric around her she managed to tie it covering her body like a toga. Too bad she hadn’t managed to get shoes, another time, perhaps. Even as Asuriel stepped on twigs and stones her heart was filled with a sense of joy, pleased by the beauty she had already found.
  15. “Pride is an admission of weakness; it secretly fears all competition and dreads all rivals.†- Fulton J. Sheen It was the seventh hour of the morning when Sylvaria rose from a fitful slumber plagued by phantoms to join the steady procession of nobles trickling through Upper Ale'del. Low clouds wreathed the Cirakin Mountains, shrouding the city in a gray mist that made the cobbled roadways more cumbersome to navigate. With meticulous care, Sylvaria guided her filly through the main thoroughfare leading to the royal palace. Months of traveling in foreign lands, free from the strictures of aristocratic society, had acclimated her to certain liberties, and she had to readjust to the formalities of her heritage, gingerly threading her way through slow-moving carriages and other riders. The fog had lifted slightly by the time she arrived at her destination, affording her a clearer view of the congregation assembled upon the rostrum at the western edge of the palace grounds. Where there would normally be a monarch or Council member issuing announcements to the residents of Lower Ale'del, instead a throng of nobles had gathered, clustered at the balustrade to watch the spectacle unfolding below in the market district. Most of her peers were clad in somber hues, and only the fine material of their attire betrayed their wealth and influence. Sylvaria herself had chosen a loose-fitting gown of crushed black velvet, with a high neckline and a modest cut befitting the occasion. Her eyes were masked by a half-veil secured to her cropped sable locks by simple black hairpins. The dark gauze obscured her features, granting her a welcome measure of privacy within the spaces of her own mind. She was not yet ready to be questioned about the presence of Soliri within the city. She took a place at the fringes of the crowd and gazed down at the market square. A dais had been erected in the center of the square, ringed by an assembly of merchants, tradesmen, and laborers. Seated upon the platform in high-backed chairs were the eight members of the Council, waiting impassively as two armored guards dragged a prisoner to the wooden crucifix mounted before them. From what little she could discern, high above the proceedings, Sylvaria could see that the man bore the sharp, angular features of the Vales, but his appearance was otherwise unremarkable, his visage nondescript and forgettable. Hidden from view, his eyes were lost beneath the tangled ropes of unkempt brown hair that hung limply against his face. He had a lean frame draped in tattered rags, and through the torn fabric Sylvaria could glimpse the angry network of scars stretching across his back, caked with dried blood and riddled with bruises that had already turned yellow with age. He was raving as his detainers pulled him to the crucifix and settled him roughly against the wooden post, lashing his wrists and ankles to the stake. “You are fools,†he spat, punctuating the statement with derisive laughter. Although his voice was hoarse, and cracked from dehydration and disuse, his words carried over the sudden stillness that fell over the crowd. “All of you. You will learn the truth of your folly soon enough, and it will avail you nothing. There is naught you can do to change your fate.†He laughed again at that, the sound growing in volume until the last cord was tightened and he was forced to imbibe a vial of nightsbane extract. Then he laughed no more, and in the wake of his silence, low murmurs of speculation arose from the gathering. “The man merely states the obvious,†a disinterested male voice commented carelessly. Shifting her gaze discreetly, Sylvaria observed that the man who had spoken was among the few who had dressed without regard for propriety, attending the proceedings in opulent finery inlaid with elaborate gold and silver brocade. “So long as we harbor the savages within our walls, our fates are, naturally, sealed.†He sighed mockingly. “Perhaps His Grace should have considered his own safety before eviscerating our policies.†“I’ll thank you to not speak of that again, for I’ve no wish to face the Council’s scrutiny,†a woman’s voice snapped in response, cutting through the flurry of gossip that followed. The man bit out a brazen retort, but Sylvaria scarcely heard it, as anger had washed over her, sudden and consuming. She willed herself to remain calm by grasping the railing and taking deep breaths. Beneath the thrum of chatter all around her, she could hear the roar of blood pounding through her ears. Seconds stretched on into minutes...until finally, the crimson haze clouding her vision dissipated, and her heartbeat returned to a steady rhythm. Moments later, the screams began. For all his insolence, the captive was mortal, and susceptible to the infirmities of his own mortality. Though she had never witnessed an execution involving the use of nightsbane, Sylvaria could recount the symptoms that afflicted him. Long before his organs failed - and they would, eventually - the toxins in his body would assault his senses, amplifying them until the merest hint of sunlight would be searing, the faintest noise deafening, and each breath excruciating. He would not taste the luxury of a swift release, either; the torment would persist for several more minutes before he would be permitted, at last, to embrace death. Sylvaria forced her gaze to remain steady by reminding herself that she beheld the man who had murdered her mentor. Her father's account of the crime still rang in her ears. The assassin had attacked as King Dorien dined in the Great Hall, loosing a poison-tipped crossbow bolt at the monarch as he bantered with guests. The attempt had nearly been thwarted by a member of the Royal Guard, who had discovered the assassin as he moved to fire, but the bolt had nonetheless found its target, lodging itself in the king’s shoulder. For a time, the king had appeared to be recovering; the bolt had missed his heart, and the injury seemed to be healing. Then, abruptly, the wound had festered, the corruption spreading rapidly through the rest of his body. He'd spent the last of his days in a fever-stricken delirium. Sylvaria could hardly imagine the pain of Lady Amalia...or Lord Damien, who had barely reached his seventh name day. How much had they suffered, to have the king inexplicably ripped from their arms? The injustice of the situation steeled her conscience, and she listened stoically as the last of the assassin’s guttering cries dissolved into silence. Once his anguished convulsions had ceased, the guards stepped forward to cut his body down from the stake. There would be no proper burial for a traitor of the realm such as he; the corpse would be flung from the heights of the Cirakin, and left to the vagaries of the wilderness. As the guards hauled the body away, a flicker of movement at the edge of sight caught her attention. But when her eyes shifted towards the source, she saw only a pair of doves taking flight, circling around the rooftops of Lower Ale'del before disappearing behind the distant spires of the Cirakin. She watched them for a long moment, then turned and slipped into the crowd of nobles filing off of the platform.
  16. March 1, 1954, 06.44 am The promised moment had come at last. This was endgame --the mighty Enfield Family and its Vassals had cornered the last remaining Contender alone on a remote Pacific atoll thousands of kilometers from the centers of civilization. It was almost unfair, less a duel than an execution -- almost a hundred Sorcerers, battle-hardened and proven in the six months of magical warfare that had come before, were up against a single wounded Contender with hardly a drop of magical power left and not a single Vassal or Champion remaining to his name. It was checkmate -- within the hour, the Mantle of the Lord of the Cosmos would have been smoothly transferred from the Rosses to the Enfields, just as it should have been all along. John Enfield, the venerable head of the Enfield Family, stepped onto the beach of the artificial island where his last enemy, Contender Theodore Grant, had chosen to make his final stand. Even for a fortress constructed on the run by an exhausted, near-defeated Contender, this place was shabby -- it was little more than an artificial island with several hastily-made Prestidigitation cloaking veils placed over it in a vain attempt to hide from the Enfields' intelligence network. Not a single defensive ward, not a single hastily-constructed golem -- just one injured man, still grinning like a madman despite the sixty-seven top-tier offensive evocations, one hundred and forty-six summoned familiars and fifty mundane but equally lethal semi-automatic rifles being aimed at him from every angle. It was so lopsided it was a little pathetic, but that was no justification for mercy. This was a War of Magic, and only one Contender could remain standing; human compassion or past friendships had no bearing on the calculus of victory. John already had the blood of three of his former friends on his hands; one prodigal upstart who'd gotten to where he was through cheap tricks and alliances with Sorcerers far his superior meant nothing to him. He raised his ancestral claymore, pointing it towards his final enemy, and declared, "It's over, Theodore. You can't run any further. No one else has to die today; just call off all those Evocations you undoubtedly have set up, and I'll see to it that your death will be painless." Theodore nodded, and merely said, "Well, alright then. Purgatio." Immediately, the pent-up tension of magical energies in the air subsided -- and the veil over the island winked out of the existence, revealing a squat little structure containing a large metal cylinder. "At least you see reason-" John said, and stopped short -- Theodore had reached into his pocket and squeezed on something, producing a little tinkle as something shattered within his hands. Then, Theodore simply vanished from sight, the place where he'd been standing now occupied by a shimmering, transparent sphere like a perfectly round spot of heat haze. A World Crystal?! I killed his friends from the Finnegan clan weeks ago! John Enfield had just enough time to realize with horrific clarity just what the cylinder in the little building was, and just why Theodore had chosen his final stronghold to be here. One and a half seconds later, a second dawn broke over Bikini Atoll. If the weapon had been a magical artifact, the Enfields would have been ready. Between them, they knew enough counter-magic to safely redirect or disperse a magnitude of energy comparable to your average Pacific typhoon. However, this had been no artifact of Sorcery, no cunningly crafted binding to channel the Cosmos' forces to the user's will. This was solely a weapon of man, a crude, brutish device made from base metals torn from the earth without a speck of the Cosmos' spark within it -- to even a mage with but a couple of cantrips to his name, such a weapon would have seemed laughably primitive, like hurling stones against a main battle tank. It was laughable to expect a Contender of Theodore's caliber to resort to glorified fireworks to win a War of Magic. However, as they said, the fatal flaw of a Sorcerer was his pride -- and while the Enfields held a repository of knowledge in their field dating back to Paracelsus, they hadn't exactly been keeping up with latest developments much. It was with very brief, unpleasant surprise that the Enfields learnt that Transmutation barriers meant to disperse bullets and shrapnel were woefully inadequate against the unleashed light of a thousand suns at point-blank range. When the World Crystal's energies dissipated nine-and-a-half minutes later, Theodore emerged back into reality to see nothing but a deceptively placid crater lake -- save for a single silvery claymore bobbing in the water, its enchantments strong enough to have survived the blast that atomized its previous owner, there was no trace of the hundred-odd Sorcerers who stood against him but the plume of radioactive dust rising high into the atmosphere. Theodore Grant sniffed in distaste, using a simple evocation to pull the sword into his hand. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he harnessed his newly-inherited powers to depart the haunted place -- he'd already caught a couple of the more curable kinds of cancer in the few seconds he'd spent standing amid the fallout, and had no intention of tarrying any longer; besides, as the newly-crowned custodian of the very forces of nature, there was plenty that had to be done. ... December 21, 2013 "The story of the Enfields was far from over, of course, There remained but one heir to this line of great Alchemists, a man named David Enfield, John's youngest son. Unable to enter the final conflict due to a severe injury, he was spared the fiery fate of his siblings and relatives, but instead lived to see the Enfield family's fortunes dry up and vanish. Swearing his revenge, he immersed himself in his work, delving not only into the traditions of the past but the scientific advances of the Normal world in search of new, deadly weapons to win the next War of Magic. In fact, it is commonly believed that his disappearance ten years ago was no accident, but a result of learning about something that was best left forgotten. Now, it's up to his daughter, the noble, supremely intelligent and irresistibly charming Elaine Enfield-" "Your internal monologue is leaking again, milady," Leon Browning said mildly as he pulled a cleaning rod through the barrel of his disassembled submachine gun. "Using the movie narrator voice, no less." "Oh, shut up. I'm almost thrice your age -- in other words, giving me room to ramble is not a favor, but a sacrosanct obligation." Elaine shot back as she scrutinized the maze of tubes, beakers and mysterious apparatuses laid out on the table before her. Occasionally, steam hissed out of one of the outlet vents on the top of the jumble, prompting her to curse in some unintelligible dialect and turn some arcane valve or tighten a seal somewhere. "It's no use thinking about what's past. You've been passed over for the big promotion, milady. Someone like you's better off just lying low -- I'm sure for an septuagenarian jailbait such as yourself, another sixty years isn't going to hurt that badly. Just take a few decades off. Dunno, go back to school, perhaps buy a villa in the Bahamas, take up cordless bungee-jumping... well, do basically anything that doesn't involve sitting in your lab, sipping Scotch and rambling about opportunity lost." Leon said with a smile, jabbing a finger towards her. "Which, if I still need to explain the joke, is exactly what you're doing right now." "Well, that's where you're wrong. Just because the Enfields are down and out doesn't mean we'll stay that way, will we?" Elaine said brightly, grinning as a clear liquid bubbled out of a series of tubes and dripped into a vial, which she removed and promptly sealed with plastic wrap. "I'm going into this War. Not as a Contender, but I'll take what I can get." "A Vassal?" Leon asked. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen." "We swallowed our pride as a Sorcerer family sixty years ago. Besides, I met a man in grad school who could sponsor us to join the War. Name's Zhu Kunru -- old Chinese guy, has the face of a thug but the heart of a kitten on Valium. He's short of reliable allies, and I'm sure he'll appreciate an offer of help from the girl he kept ogling at lunch break forty-five years back. I've already requested an audience with him." "And just what will that gain you?" Leon asked, tilting his head and raising one of his eyebrows. Elaine cut the power to her equipment, turning her attention instead to the steadily-humming, lead-lined box immersed in a water bath at the far end of the room. "One War. Thirteen Contenders. When the dust settles, one surviving Lord of Magic." she recited as she examined a panel covered in various dials and indicator lights. "No one's actually said that the Contenders that do reach the finals have to be from the same thirteen who started, though..." "That sounds preposterous enough that it just might even be true," Leon scoffed, turning his attention back to cleaning and oiling the innards of his weapon. "Still, I'm paid up until March, so it's not my place to doubt your judgment. You're the expert, after all." "Fine by me," Elaine replied. "Get yourself ready, we've got a flight to catch. It's time to meet our so-called teammates in this little game of death."
  17. OPEN Tragic Romance?

    Kay. So I've had an idea for a kind of RP I want recently. I really want to do a tragic romance thing. I don't really have any story idea to follow through with, but this is more of an interest thread really. I want to see who would be interested in fulfilling my wishes here . ^.^ Currently I know I want it to have prominent romance. I want the story to follow the characters involved as they uncover the secrets behind some kind of darkness or something. They aren't saving the world per-say, but they have powers and they fight something together, but not an organization, just a small group of whoever joins. I'm wanting there to be a clear end where one character (involved in the romance duo of course) to sacrifice themselves to save the others (especially his/her lover). (Cliche alert!) I'm thinking of playing the male lead who will be the one to sacrifice, but of course I'm open to ideas here. I also want the setting to be a strong, Japanese anime/manga school setting. Think Kyoukai no Kanata, Hagure Yuusha no Estetica, and the like. That's all I can really come up with right now. I do have a character I've been thinking on, but I don't know if it's the best character to use for something like this, so currently I don't really have anything else for you guys to go on. So, any takers/ideas!?
  18. The Sword of Ascalon A role-play by Etereality & HerculeHastings Prologue The frail husk of a man lay motionless on his throne, high up in the tower of his lofty fortress. The stone walls, through which no light nor warmth could penetrate, insulated him from the world outside in both the literal and figurative sense; none of the servants that oversaw the castle's upkeep has ever laid eyes on their master. After decades of servitude to their reclusive, the servants knew instinctively to avoid the northernmost tower lest they attract their lord's attention and be ensnared by his will. For although the immortal is nearly blind and deaf, he has mastered sight beyond sight and sees far more than any ordinary mortal ever can. Today, however, the immortal is satisfied. After centuries of careful machinations, executed by the oblivious pawns whose minds he had spiked, the pieces are finally in place. There were times when he had nearly given in to the pain that wracked every fibre of his body, to the comforting light of oblivion within his own mind. Those were dark, dark times… times when the immortality that he had sacrificed so much to wrest away from the jealous bosom of God had seemed like a curse, not a precious gift. He had painfully learned that although he has conquered Death itself, Time remains his greatest adversary. Struck down by the wrath of God, he had lost nearly everything, been reduced to this most wretched state of All Creation. But no matter, today he was closer to surpassing godhood than ever. Today, the pain was much more endurable than ever. For this was the day when he would set the wheels of fate into motion. First, he would claim for himself Silene of the West, whose flames once laid waste to the Arkenath continent many eons ago. The Uiurs were headed for Ascalon even now; soon Silene would join her strength with his. With the ferocity of the famed dragon, he would then wage war against the East and eventually all of Arkenath. With a bit more patience, he would see his dominion over the children of God restored, just as the way it was two millennia ago. With his children pined under the iron fist of his greatest enemy, God would surely be forced to reveal himself. And when that happens, the immortal would be waiting, ready to usurp the absent Father of All Creation and begin a new age of divine rule. One that will last forever. Urgarth the Undying allowed himself the satisfaction of a small smile, an expression that was hidden from the sight of even God himself. - Chak… chak… chak... The scraping of the rutter against the loamy soil was a ticker that divided the interminable flow of time into a comforting rhythm. Draken Hearthstone's arm had long gone past the point of soreness; now all he felt was the sensation of movement. At this moment, his entire world consisted solely of the area of loam before him and the bundle of sensations that was his body. His thin cottony shirt clung to his perspiring skin as he labored under the waning rays of the evening sun. Setting aside the tool, he tugged at a clump of weed, dislodging it easily. He dropped the errant plant into a raggedy pouch lying by the side and sat back on his haunches, wiping his face on a soaked sleeve. Ascalon was neatly laid out on the plains before him, a rustic collection of stone huts silently enduring the elements. Smoke was coming out of the firesmith’s forge to the north, together with the occasional burst of flames through the billows. Draken imagined that Rinne must be hammering away at an implement even now, her keen features blackened with soot and slick with perspiration. His sister was the one who had inherited their parents’ talents and was the town’s best apprentice firesmith, as Dulmar the Iron-Dwarf had been boasting to anyone who would listen. “Unlike that soft-hammed Draken,†Dulmar would say as he snorted dismissively. Draken still winced at the memory of Excalipoor, the sword he had forged after hours of backbreaking work with the forge. When he had tested it by swinging it at a rockmelon fruit, it sank exactly one inch into the flesh and became stuck there. Dulmar had chortled and made it a permanent exhibit in the forge, together with the rockmelon, which had become a permanent fixture of the weapon. Burning with shame from the memory, Draken averted his eyes from the forge and let his gaze roam across the landscape – past the marketplace, the distinctive henge stonework that was Ascalon’s centerpiece, and the numerous farm-and-cottage clusters. He finally allowed it to settle on the jagged peaks of the distant mountainous range, where Central Arkenath lay hidden from sight. An insistent gust of wind blew from there, creating a hollow sound audible throughout the village. “’You have done well today, but it is time we head back, young Draken. Night will fall soon.†It was Balthier who had spoken and who looked at Draken with benevolent eyes. The former Conductor had taken in the young Dragonkin under his apprenticeship when it had seemed like no one else would. Draken was immensely grateful for the his tutelage, even if he didn’t know Balthier very well and still didn’t quite understand exactly what he was supposed to be learning from the inscrutable man. All summer, the man had made him do odd jobs across the village like gather specific herbs from the surrounding forestry, weed the fields and observe the movement of the clouds, which hadn’t struck Draken as being particularly useful for his Calling when it comes two autumns from now. But follow Balthier’s words he did, for he had no other choice really. “Yes, Elder Balthier.†There was no reply from Balthier, and so Draken looked up at the man, who turned out to be squinting intently at the distant horizon, his grey eyebrows furrowed. “Those clouds herald ominous tidings, Draken...†At these words, Draken redirected his attention back to the mountains, but all he saw were the murky clouds that possibly signaled imminent rain.
  19. Amoria

    Survivors of the initial Undead onslaught had quickly learned that even though the battle was over, the war would never end. The Undead, while no longer actively hunting, capturing and killing any of the living, would always be a clear and present danger. Surviving under these conditions was a skill only few possessed and in order to ensure that the weak would not fall prey to the trappings of complacency they had vocalized several rules in order to increase chances of survival. One of these very simple rules was to never spend the night outdoors. While it seemed basic enough, it was oftentimes easier said than done. Especially for a group of five travellers who had set out on a suicidal quest because of someone’s insane idea that a children’s bedtime story held the answer that would save humanity. After a day of travelling the countryside the sun had begun to set, a mundane event that had become a omen that ushered the rise of the Undead and the hours of peril. Staying out in the open was rarely a wise decision, considering that the vast majority of the Undead forces were nocturnal and would start roaming the lands in less than an hour. The large open space would provide little cover and serve is an awful surrounding for those wishing to avoid contact with the Undead. Lucky for them Alastair knew exactly where they were and how to solve their predicament. Alastair MacCallum was a Homunculus who through his years of operating for the Alabaster army had gotten used to taking the jobs no one else wanted or wished upon anyone. Likewise, he served as the scout for this particular group of travellers, walking ahead by himself in order to ensure that they did not stumble upon an insurmountable threat and lose their lives this early. Like many of his missions, Alastair’s job was to die so everyone else could survive if worst came to worst. Of course, most threats were dormant during their travels, meaning that monsters or Undead lacking a weakness to sunlight were the only real threats. After deciding on what he deemed to be the group’s best course of action, he ceased walking ahead and sat under a tree for ten minutes as he waited for the group to drag their feet and rejoin him. They were a truly eclectic band of travellers. A pair of magically potent sisters, a noble knight from a neighbouring kingdom and a nomadic warrior who cared little for anything other than his prowess as a martial artist. The sisters were easy on the eyes, but were also a bit odd. At times he wondered whether it was a good idea to travel along a necromancer and what he could only describe as a demonologist. Conceding that beggars can’t be choosers and the amount of volunteers lining up to go on a futile suicide mission had sadly run dry he chose to lay his worries to rest and focus on the journey to come. If the sisters made him feel uneasy, one could say that he straight up abhorred being in the company of Jun and Alicia. If it weren’t for the situation forcing them together he would have preferred to avoid the presence of knights, even those of a different kingdom, or the seemingly apathetic nomad. “There is a town not far from here,†Alastair said, pointing at the stone walls encircling and obscuring the aforementioned town. “It is less than ideal, but it is either that or we set camp on the field.†The group followed the uncertain Alastair hesitantly; they all knew the risks of staying the night in a large town, but the fact that it was at least marginally better than remaining out in the open meant that no one objected. Balmorra Burgh was a fortified town close to the border of Portland and Alabaster. During his days in the army Alastair had frequently stopped at the Burgh, usually whenever he was sent on an excursion to Portland. While he had never regarded the Burgh with anything more than indifference he was saddened by the sight of the stone walls covered in overgrown moss, broken down buildings stripped of their former lustre and desolate streets where once the marketplace was crowded to the point of frustrating Alastair. In times such as these few enemies were as likely to kill a man as sentimentality, and Alastair was well aware of that fact. Wasting time lamenting the times that once were was a habit any survivor of the Undead onslaught had to kill as fast as possible. After stepping into the Burgh, Alastair noticed several buildings that could serve as suitable shelter. “We shouldn’t head to deep into town,†he said, worried that the fortified town would serve as a coffin for the group if they locked themselves too far inside it. “It won’t be long before we have run out of our remaining sunlight and are left in the dark. I’d suggest we inspect all buildings close by to see if there are any Undead resting or sleeping inside. I’ll take the far end.†The remaining minutes of sunlight were spent by Alastair entering and inspecting as many of the seemingly abandoned wooden houses as he could. The reason large towns were avoided like a plague was due to the many houses that could conceal sleeping Undead who’d awaken at night and assault unsuspecting travellers seeking shelter. Confident that there were no concealed Undead in their immediate vicinity he returned to the house the party had chosen to use for shelter.[ “If no one else wants to, I’ll take first watch.â€
  20. MegaCorps were given the closest thing to absolute autonomy as possible. They were allowed to build massive machines of death and destruction without having to abide by any labor laws (even though the process was almost fully automated, humans are indispensable overseers) or pesky regulations. However, it is human nature to want what one can’t have. So when the Luxembourg Protocol ruled that the creation, possession or utilisation of kind of orbital weapon was outlawed due to the destruction of large parts of Southeast Asia (with Singapore being wiped out in its entirety) it was only a matter of time before one of the MegaCorps finally decided to see how far she could get with the creation of a new orbital cannon. To be exact, Sabanci Space and Defence was a shell company without any official ties to the twelve MegaCorps, but despite the efforts Kilimanjaro Orbital Conglomerate put into ensuring that they could plausibly deny any involvement with Sabanci’s orbital cannon; no one would be dumb enough to believe that KOC was unaware of what was going on on the territory they let Sabanci ‘rent’. No one except for the law, but she had a reputation for being easily misled. Luckily Aegis wasn’t that easy to mislead. Raymond Montano Nagato, along with a fifty unit platoon, was sent out to invade and put an end to Sabanci’s operations. The higher ups had given the operation A-rank priority, which in this case meant that the situation was urgent, required immediate intervention and heavy resistance was expected. Of course no less than fifty Dragoons would be sent out on an operation as important as this. “All units, call in,†a voice resounded within the Highlander’s cockpit. Raymond knew that voice belonged to Andrew Carlson, the commander of the Blue Squadron given the callsign Blue Leader. One by the nine members of the Blue Squadron called in and reported that they were ready for action. “Blue Seven, standing by,†Raymond said, once his turn arrived, and the roll call continued up until Blue Nine. Raymond couldn’t help but feel excited. He had been in combat before, but never had he gotten the chance to face KOC’s Leopard Dragoons. After pressing one of the dozens of buttons inside of his cockpit and the Augmented Reality interface of his cockpit pulled up a schematic of the Leopard, the most common KOC unit and the one that they are most famous for; cheap yet deadly in the right hands, it had become the standard for ‘disposable’ Dragoons used to overwhelm enemies with numbers instead of superior technology. The bipedal unit’s most distinguishing traits were the square heads with a single lens, a large round shield attached to their left arms, several progressive knives scattered across various limbs and underneath the shield and a large caliber burst rifle attached to their right arm. Raymond didn’t doubt for a moment that the Highlander could easily beat a Leopard in a one on one battle, but the idea of a battle on such a grand scheme excited him. When he remembered that there were also several alternate, advanced versions of the Leopard his blood starting pumping at the promise of facing them in glorious single combat. This was going to be amazing! His fantasies were cut short when another message by Blue Leader resounded inside the cockpit. “Operation Sword of Damocles commences in t-minus 5 minutes. Several miles outside of KOC territory occupied by SSD the fifty Dragoons of Aegis waited as the seconds counted down to the commencement of the operation. Raymond activated the Dragoon’s VR piloting program and immediately his senses were overwhelmed with a sensation that remained unfamiliar no matter how many times he underwent it. The Dive was a process that used a VR program in order to allow pilots to take control over their Dragoons with their thoughts. The technology was mostly developed in order to eliminate the chance of piloting errors leading to failure, but also because piloting a giant robot with your mind was insanely cool. The SSD Manufacturing plant was located in the Syrian desert, being far removed from the curious gazes of unwanted onlookers and easy access to solar power made it a decent location for a large factory performing acts that could be considered war crimes. In an instant the silence underneath the hot Syrian sun disappeared when the rumbling sound of fifty tall mechanical monsters running with their weapons at the ready echoed through the area. Among the ten members of the Blue Squadron was the Highlander; shield and rifle still both attached to its arms and the Zantetsuken resting at its hip. It did not take long before sentry guns spread out across the KOC’s perimeter started firing at the advancing Dragoons, but the wide spread of bullets was little more than an easily ignorable inconvenience. A few rounds of their cannons and most of the sentry guns had been blown to bits. The second line of defense didn’t come until the platoon reached the premises of the factory. A large group of Dragoons stood armed and ready to face Aegis, as if someone had warned them that Aegis was coming. Surely it wouldn’t be Kilimanjaro Orbital Conglomerate! That would be crazy. Nevertheless it was time for them to deal with the Leopards. Most squadrons spread out, dividing the battlefield among them in order to eliminate the enemy as efficiently as possible. “Scanner reads 81 Bandits,†Blue Three announced, confirming the suspicion that KOC would be providing SSD with their trademark numbers advantage. Raymond paid little attention to that fact. He knew that being reckless would cost him his life, but as he raised his cannon at the first enemy within range all he could do was think about how lucky he truly was to have found his one true calling as several bullets fired by enemy Leopards were stopped by the Highlander’s ARES. Raymond needed to do little more than visualize it for the Highlander to raise it’s right arm and fire several rounds of the Avalanche in retaliation. The exchange of bullets between the Blue Squadron and the various Bandits in their section continued as the Squadron slowly advanced, closing the distance between them and their enemies. It did not take long before everyone was close enough to cease fire and dash towards the Leopards with their melee weapons in hand. The feeling of drawing the Highlander’s sword and charging into enemy lines had always been something Raymond was particularly fond of. Firing the Avalanche at a distance was satisfying in its own way, but nothing beat the sensation of using a gigantic, insanely expensive sword to destroy mechanical giants with a fell swoop. As the Blue Squadron got closer, many of the Leopard forsook their cannons for the progressive knives that functioned a lot better at melee range. Despite a quick scan Raymond couldn’t see any modified Leopards, so he decided to isolate a pair and take them down two-on-one to make it a bit more interesting. One of the Leopards used its thrusters to hop back, while firing it’s cannon to keep the Highlander away, and the other drew a pair of progressive knives and accepted Raymond’s challenge. Despite the Leopard’s inherent clunkiness, the machine was obviously operated by a skilled pilot that knew how to beat superior Dragoons. The way the Leopard’s pilot used slashes and dashes in various directions in conjunction with the covering fire provided by its ally demonstrated his experience to the point that Raymond admitted that he would have lost the battle if he had a lesser machine. The pressure applied by his opponent was enough to keep Raymond from being able to safely switch over to the offensive. Forced to quickly think on his feet, he waited for the melee combatant to go for another strike and attempted to deflect it with his shield. While the opening he had created wasn’t enough for him to swing the Zantetsuken before the Leopard had the chance to dash back, it was enough for him to raise his Avalanche and fire several rounds at the Leopard in the back, destroying its cannon arm and effectively eliminating the support it provided. After creating enough leeway for him to act and fully engage on the Leopard who had so arrogantly decided to try and pressure him. Without the support of his backup the inferior specs of the Leopard weren’t enough to keep it from being crudely cut in half by the blade of the Zantetsuken. As expected, this mission was going to be a lot of fun.
  21. So,towards the middle of the RP Carnival, I noticed my ability to come up with riveting tales and ever eloquent stories was failing me. I couldn't seem to concoct anything new and/or good really and my writing sort of fell off for a while. While I was busy packing somethings and looking at some awesome stuff and playing games, some ideas struck me like lighting cast by (insert mage name here). Of course, I'm not going to claim that I'm back at an awesome writing peak again. However, these ideas are interesting to me, so maybe some of you will find them interesting and might want to join me for a fun RP based on these ideas. *Note: none of these have names yet, and these are short descriptions. Hyaaaaaaaa! This idea struck me while playing an MMO on my PC. Really it's an idea for a character that sounds fun, therefore the concept only really exists so I can use a new character idea. It's a world where long ago (insert beings/breeds here) all live together in peace. They thrived and had a grand country under the rule of (insert name). These people live well with advanced technology based on the one thing found in great abundance on the planet, Luxcerium. (explained later) With this magic material, life was created in the form of (insert android race name) and they created their own empire as well, living peacefully alongside their creators. When the Luxcerium began to run dry from over use however, the (insert) went to the humans/demons/angel/elves/etc. for help and were denied. War broke out soon after and was waged for many years with the people winning. In a tragic twist of events, the war ended with the destruction of the (insert) from celestial cause. The people also suffered great loss, forcing them into the equivalence of the dark ages without the use of Luxcerium. Thousands of years have passed since then and the tales and legends of old slowly faded more and more with the progress of man, until society was once again thriving and the Luxcerium and (insert) were forgotten. (this last paragraph here will probably be changed for something different later) Gods Among Us Okay, so I think all of the ideas are just for awesome character concepts, but moving on...This idea sprang up while I was viewing some radical images on the google. The setting is modern day wherever the hell, but it's modern. Magic is, of course, total fiction. Young (insert character name) believes this as well. Even if he wishes that something about the world were extraordinary, he is painfully aware of that blandness that is earth. However, one day he witnesses an event that will change the fate of mankind. A person, who he's never seen, is found in the middle of a four way intersection in the midst of rush hour. As he stands there, people yelling at him to move, a beast of unknown origins emerges from seemingly nothing at the call of the man. The beast, following the mans orders then goes out and beings destroying everything he can. While doing so, another man steps forward and summons a completely different, but equally terrifying beast and there, in the middle of downtown (city name) they fight a battle that changes everything. (This story can go several places, so I'm just going to leave it there for anyone who finds the concept of summoned beast interesting) Lost Wonders Again, character concepts, but this one has something that might amount to possible story line. This one hit me while packing. Janus, a man of legend. He has fought demons, warbeasts, vampires, fallen angels, warlords, mages, and a thousand other races to tedious for me to concoct. His skill in (blank) is that of a paragon and he is a being of untouchable power. Janus the Unparalleled. Janus the Paragon. Janus of the (blank) Knights. Janus the Legendary. Janus the Fair Skinned. Janus of the Golden Hair. Janus...well, they get the point. So when this young man by the name of Janus (lastname) appears in the city of (blank) with claim to be Janus the Reduced Power he gets all manner of scorn and disrespect. The villagers all know the tales of Janus, and they all KNOW with out a shard of doubt that this man couldn't possibly be "Our Lord and Savior Nicholas Cage Janus." So then who is he really? And who is this all powerful, coated in roses Janus? Basically, this Janus had his powers drain by whatever thing and he is no longer the all powerful guy. And he isn't the only one. The other (blank) Knights are the same way. This tale is about their journey to regain their powers from whatever to achieve whatever, for blah blah blah, yadda yadda. You guys get the idea. If anyone has interest in these, please feel free to say so ^.^
  22. Waifus

    Introduction I hadn't known that that chance meeting, a fleeting moment insignificant in the grand scheme of things, would have torn my life apart just like that. I'd been roused 15 minutes late, the feeble bleating of my alarm clock woefully insufficient to tear me from the Sandman's clutches. I was going to be late on my very first day of high school, and there was no way I was going to allow that. This was the first trial on a journey of a thousand days -- if I messed this up, even if the world might forget, I would never forgive myself. Hurriedly, I changed, grabbed my bag and rushed downstairs, plucking a slice of toast from the table and holding it in my mouth as I sprinted towards school, feeling the wind rush through my hair and sweat bead up on my arms and back. Then, as I rounded a corner, I noticed, far too late, that there was a boy walking at a leisurely pace straight in my path, oblivious to my approach thanks to the earbuds jammed into his ears. My eyes widened and my breath caught in my throat as I tried to swerve, but inertia was a cruel mistress. There was a great crash, and my toast and the contents of my bag went flying into the air, spilling across the pavement. When I finally stopped seeing stars, I looked upwards -- only to see that this pleasantly bland young man had picked up the scattered books and files in my bag and returned them, and was proffering this bag towards me. Gratefully, I accepted it with a mumbled 'thank you', and carried on my way. I thought that nothing more than a minor hiccup, just another blip in the day-to-day life of a bright-eyed, fresh-faced high school freshman... but I was wrong. Unbeknownst to me, I was being watched. I learned that the hard way on my way home after a long day of commencement speeches, awkward self-introductions and other such pleasantries. It was almost sundown when I set off on my way home, and the streets were mostly quiet at this time, save for the occasional distant barking of some family's hyperactive dog or the passing rumble as a car went by. Then, this silence was suddenly broken by the whoosh of rushing wind and a thump -- and the next thing I knew, I felt the cold steel of an honest-to-goodness katana pressed against my throat. "Wh-what's going on?!" I squeaked in alarm. "Don't you know?" the older girl accosting me growled. "You set a flag. You're in The Game now -- and I'm here to eliminate a competitor." "W-what?! Flag? Game? I have no idea what on earth you're talking about!" I protested, trembling as I looked down at the cold steel just an inch from my neck. The other girl cursed under her breath, regarding me with the look of a cat staring down a mouse. "You're a newbie? You've got no idea how this works? Well, I'll do you a favor and give you the low-down. "You were late for school, and collided with a certain second-year student. Is that right?" I nodded frantically in assent, and she continued, "In other words, you've made contact with him -- and now, your fate is irrevocably entwined with him. That was the flag that you set... and now, you are part of The Game. You see... the two of us are far from the only ones to have set these flags." "I... I don't quite get you... so those in The Game are supposed to fight each other?" I asked, and she wordlessly nodded. "But why?" I pleaded, my vision blurry from the tears rolling down my face. "Because there can only be one." ... Setting Yokoso, waga tomodachi yo. This RP is a contemporary fantasy set in modern Japan... except with some differences. Most pertinently, when a random middle-schooler suddenly strikes a pose in the street and declares that they'll unleash their Azure Grimoire, they just might be serious. So, our story revolves around a really bland-looking guy. Somewhat like the one down here: He might or might not have magical powers, and he might or might not actually be a great hero with a secret destiny. However, all this about his life is inconsequential, because this is not his story. What's most pertinent is that this young man has an uncanny ability to attract girls (and the occasional boy) of every kind, and yet has the even more uncanny ability to be completely oblivious of their advances -- the result is a harem of over a dozen people pining over a single man... and to these girls (and boys, if appli- bah, you get the idea), sharing is not an option. And so begins The Game. During the day, they remain civil to each other, chit-chatting with each other, talking to said oblivious guy and generally being polite, civil and wonderful, promising model students -- but when the sun goes down, all hell breaks loose. The town becomes their battleground, and they battle each other in a no-holds-barred battle royale, aiming to defeat the others to prove their supremacy -- to be the fabled Best Girl who shall claim this unwitting Casanova's heart. This battle has been at a stalemate at all too long... but now, with the start of a new school year, perhaps a twist of fate will bring this war to its inevitable conclusion. Details Basically, you play as one of the twenty-odd people who have been drafted into The Game for whatever reason. You don't even have to be a girl, just as long as you've somehow triggered an event that could lead to you falling in love with that dreadfully bland, indecisive chap seen above (Bonus points if you're some kind of anime stereotype or a variation thereof). It's probably best to be a high-schooler to maximize social interactions outside combat, though it is by no means necessary. Feel free to use any kind of origin for your fighting skills -- this is a fantasy kitchen sink, so pretty much goes, as long as you don't go overboard with the power levels -- the participants of The Game would all rank as Heroes in the Dimensional Schism tier list at most. Also, since all this fighting is in the real world, no blowing up the town or otherwise causing excessive property damage if you don't want the school to close, the town to be evacuated and for everyone to get the Bad End. So... I hate to say this, but you got to minimize or exclude guns and explosives. Hitting each other with swords is A-OK, though. So... Basically, Highlander crossed with a harem comedy. Have fun, and may the best girl (or boy, if applicable) win. This RP is open to all, but if you can't post regularly, please let us know. And I'll make your role tangential to the actual plot Character Sheet (not stolen from Sanzi honest) Name: Age: Appearance: Personality: Bio: Abilities/Skills: Miscellaneous:
  23. Hell Street

    Once, many centuries ago there lived a demon, though her blood was black, her heart was pure. Lore read that demons were monstrous creatures, aggressive, and vicious things; the lore though is not always so accurate. This demoness had lived a life as many humans had, though far from ‘normal’ she lived with friends and companions, she endured her own turmoil and sacrifice, but also held much joy in her life, just as many do. As a demon her life was dark, their methods violent, but not necessarily cruel or evil. Her name was Seyerna, with hair the color of night and eyes that resembled blood, she was the epitome of a demon, she was tall, her body lean and strong, but uncommonly beautiful with her elegant figure and ‘come hither’ features. There were no myths or legends on her, none commonly known anyway. If anyone wrote of her the text was lost, but her deeds had affected the fate of the world. When darker beings of her race thought to blindly open the gates of hell it was Seyerna that gave her life, willingly and without fear to protect those she would call friends and family. She tore her very soul, using her essence to scar the rip in the dimensional field that allowed the monsters of hell entry into the mortal plane. Though the demons that had escaped from hell wreaked much havoc, the world did recover and continued to prosper without their dark savior who was now bound in the pits of hell. In hell she faced new trials, the way of hell was simple “might maketh right†it was a constant battle, the demons and monsters of hell cared for little save the thrill of battle. She was no virgin to violence, but the very atmosphere vibrated with the aggressiveness of its tenants and it was a new world for her. Time in hell doesn't move the same way, it's not... linear. Sometimes it's the middle of night, and thirty seconds later it'll be mid-day, so there is no telling how long she lingered in this world, while the time in the mortal plane suggested many centuries, it may have been more, or it may have been less in the time waves of hell. It didn't matter though, the weight of always being on her toes was a heavy burden, not something she had done in life, she had made friends and companions, people to trust; now in hell, even those she traveled with, some she even called ‘friends’ where not someone she would turn her back too. So when the ripple in the dimension danced across her skin she ran for it, she knew that feeling as if it had only been yesterday, her mind screaming ‘Why! Why would anyone open a gate?’ It was a fleeting thought as even more prominent was the urge to escape. Survival in hell was not a game, and it quickly lost its appeal for someone who would rather seek luxury than violence. The most primitive part of her demonic mind craved the violence, enjoyed it, but she had not been born into this world and she had long since conditioned her mind to a more lax way of processing. As the portal fluctuated and shuttered with uncertainty she flung herself into the rip, not carrying to test the waters, not worried about what might be waiting on the other side, in her experience good people did not open gates to hell, but at that time, she simply didn't care. She landed on her hands and knees, the slight difference in gravity weighing on her flesh, making her tremble with familiarity – joy. Breathing heavy, unable to believe she had made it, that she was back on Earth, she could see her friends again! How long had it been? The world around her quickly rushed to her senses, the new smells, the strange sounds, realizing that whatever was beneath her palms was not any kind of flooring she had seen before. She was on her feet in seconds, her eyes wide as they took in the new world, bars curved and created a dome cage over her head, their heads, as she quickly accounted for the many monsters of hell locked in with her. Between the bars the air seemed to shimmer, curiously she touched it and immediately a shock of power went through her veins, ‘lightning’ her mind pieced together, or at least it seemed like lightning, she had known very few mages in life who could conduct lightning; fire and ice were one thing, but lightning was very different. Her eyes bolted around the room, her demonic thoughts immediately seeking an escape but as she took in the dozens of humans surrounding the cage curiosity became the dominant thought. The prominent humans before her were dressed different, their clothes blue that covered their entire body, layered in thick black pieces that appeared heavy and uncomfortable, they didn't appear like cloth. Other humans were dressed in completely white suits, even their heads covered with some strange white helmet, other’s still wore long white coats, they were further away raised up on a different level form them. The ones in the front held something that alarmed her though she knew not why, it was metal, and took on an ‘L’ shape, their fingers in the crook of the ‘L’ it seemed to be ‘pointed’ at them, what did that little device do? The air rippled again and she jerked to see the portal to hell closing, briefly she wondered if going back through would be a better option. Turning back to face her captors, the questions continued to rumble through her mind, why would they want demons in this world? They obviously had been the ones to open and close the gate; they had been prepared for them. Many of the humans eyed her, immediately Seyerna became aware of the fact that she was the only one in the cage that held any sort of human characteristics, the creatures they had brought over where the most grotesque of hell-born demons, most of them black or gray, their eyes black or red, some of them seemed to ooze slime, others looked like leather and some were completely scaled over, their bodies were not shaped like humans, some had more or less limbs, some were quadrupeds, in the end they were all disturbing to gaze upon. Seyerna though, even in her most demonic of form, with two sets of horns breaching her forehead, one curling around her long elfin ears, the others sliding back against her skull, her wings were black and scaled like a dragons, as was her tail that currently sat coiled around one ankle with claws, long and dark from blood stain, she still shared the similar bone structure and features. She knew she was a sight to behold for humans, but hell’s atmosphere forced her to retain her demonic state, demanded her most demonic thoughts, every second that she lingered her, it felt a weight was lifting off of her mind even as her demonic form seemed to grow heavier. Soon the features would recede and she would appear even more human, save her bloody eyes, canine fangs, and claws, but even her claws would shrink, and her fangs, which currently there were two sets, top and bottom, the bottoms would vanish entirely, the top four would become barely noticeable. A strange hissing sound drew her attention from the many human eyes on her, she looked up, to where the sound seemed to originate, the air there was different, her sensitive vision picking up on the very particles in the air, noting something not right about them. In moments her eyes were growing blurry and heavy, around her the grotesque demons were falling, passing out, or dying she wasn't sure. It felt like her heart was slowing, her mind was going fuzzy. Realizing too late that there was some kind of poison in the air, she held her breath, refusing to take in any more of it, not that it mattered though; the drug was already in her system. Her demonic body fought and struggled against the drug, trying against all odds to keep her conscious, being unconscious in hell meant certain death and so her body pushed her into overdrive, demanding her to stay awake. All of the demons had fallen and Seyerna stood on shaking legs, gazing through blurry eyes at the many individuals around her that she could no longer decipher, when once she could see their pores from across the room, now she couldn't even single them out. She could hold her breath for close to ten minutes, but it didn't matter, the drug was eating away at her reserves and minutes after the last demon had fallen unconscious she fell to her knees, still fighting. Several minutes more passed and she finally collapsed in a heap on the ground unconscious, the drug finally winning and blacking out her senses.
  24. The sun shone through the intermittent clouds yet the sky seemed darker today. As if noticing this, the village seemed to respond by being unusually quiet. The children that were usually out playing at this noon time were instead staying nervously close to their parents who were accomplishing things at very distracted paces. In fact, every set of eyes in that village have probably been on the castle at the center 100 times in the past couple of morning hours. It is true, today was like no other. The people had been told this day would go down in history as saving many lives and many struggles for both species, humans and demons alike. However, such a promise was hard to take easily. The demons had always been out for their lives, always out for their blood. Now they were suddenly alright with making a truce? Having such a dangerous species within their very own village, one they had been at war with ever since anyone could remember, was understandably unsettling. Regardless, things had to get done today and Lily did everything in her power to keep her mind calm so she could accomplish what she had set to get done today. She wasn't doing a very good job of that, only having accomplished a very few chores her mother had put on her list for the day but she couldn't be late. Along with everyone else, she didn't think it a wise idea to leave too far from her home but she had made a promise with Seth. Every Wednesday, they would meet at the fields where Lily would collect herbs for her mother's concoctions. She didn't have many people who liked her as she tended to talk a bit too much for a proper lady but Seth didn't mind. He was more of the quiet type and he didn't seem to struggle with getting words in with Lily. He seemed quite content with her babbling. Besides, she worried about him sometimes. He never seemed to assert himself and he didn't seem to have many other friends than her. She liked keeping him company. Wanting to make herself less noticeable, she quickly tied her long red hair up and put the hood of her cloak over her head. Slinking around to the back of her hut, she rushed off for the fields. With everything going on, her anxiety was threatening to go through the roof if she didn't find someone to spill her worries and thoughts too. I really hope all this doesn't keep Seth from coming... What if he thinks it's too risky? Oh.... The path to the fields went through some alleys of the numerous homes and she felt she knew this path by heart. She didn't notice how much it could bother her that she was out in the open until now, though, when she finally left the safety of the huts and entered the wide open fields. She couldn't help instinctively crouching lower in the tall grasses and wrapping her arms around herself, keeping the cloak tight to her. Maybe I should sit down instead of stand. I know he might not be able to see me but... oh, surely he'd look for my red cloak! He should know I wouldn't be the one to break our promise! Assuming he comes.... She sighed. settling down into the little cover the grasses gave to her and drawing her knees up to her chest, wondering what could be going on in the castle. Did they have sufficient guards? What if the demons tried to kill the King? Not that she would feel much if they did. She didn't like him very much, anyway. The last King had been personal with everyone in the village so the change to a King who was rarely even seen made her uneasy. Still, he always seemed to have the village's well-being first in his priorities. But how can you rule a people when you don't even know them? She laid her head on her knees. Seth, please come.... She wasn't all that close with Seth but he was still the best thing she had to a 'friend'. She could get along with most anyone but her mouth just always kept everyone at bay from getting to know her.
  25. At the dawn of our world's imminent demise humanity did as it had always done, it looked to the heavens. No God, no deity, no grand architect came down to save us from the calamity. Instead we chose to become the architects of our own survival. We gathered the great minds of our generation, and they put their heads together to bring forth our final hope. Day and night men and women from all over the world joined together for one purpose. All spare resources were gathered and used for parts. The pinnacle of man's technological advancement took the form of the largest structure to ever be built. A city to carry us across the stars. Large enough to house one billion of our planets most eligible people. The city was constructed as a large cylinder, that once launched would rotate as it hurled through space, the centrifugal force acting like our world's gravity. It's sole purpose to carry us on a one hundred year journey across the universe, to reach another planet, one to call home. The promised land, Valhalla. Inside the cylinder was a smaller floating city, one that would house the leaders of this expedition, a place for the best of our kind to watch over us, Asgard. And so Asgard and it's inhabitants were given control over our fate, and we took to the stars. The space-faring mega-city that would be our home for the next century also had a name. We called it Midgard. God Inside The Machine The skies above Huvec were brightly illuminated, the city's horizon arcing in the distance and eventually rising so high that it had reached the sky and then came back down. It was an interesting sensation, knowing that when you looked to the sky, the people who lived there were the ones looking up at you. And in the centre, floating proudly in the centre of it all, the illuminated sector known as Asgard. The lights were currently a soft blue, representing the moonlight of a world no living person on Midgard had ever witnessed. I had been 108 years since they had left their home planet, the ones who had began this voyage were long gone, with only their children to take on the task of finding Valhalla. The mission had taken 8 years longer than anticipated, but that could only mean that they were close to finding their new home. It may be tomorrow, or maybe in a year or two, but there was no doubt that this generation would be the one to discover the promised land. The streets in Huvec were quiet at night. The industrial sector housed factories, warehouses, office buildings and the like. There were no residencies here, and so at night it was almost deserted. However footsteps echoed through the night, tapping rapidly along the road, along with sharp and frantic breathing. The man was running, running for his life. The man was dressed in a white three-piece suit with a black shirt and a white tie, His dark brown hair was dishevelled and and soaked with sweat. He turned a corner and disappeared down a dark alleyway, He came to a fence and stopped. He took the silver briefcase he was carrying and hurled it over, before scaling the fence and dropping to the other side. He grabbed the briefcase and carried on out of the other side of the alley. He crossed the street and down the side of an empy warehouse building. He found an unlocked door and let himself inside. The warehouse was large and full of crate after crate of Guzzlr energy drink. He hurriedly walked through the maze of crates, trying to find somewhere hidden. Eventually he found a tucked away little corner, and he knelt down. He took the briefcase and looked it over. Inscribed across the front of it was a serial code and two words. 228-AP Apex Valkyrie He slid the briefcase in between two crates of the vile, mass produced energy drinks. He vowed that this was just a temporary measure. Carrying this was too dangerous right now. He would come back to collect it in the early morning, before any of the workers arrived at the factory. He knew it was careless, but he had precious few options right now. With a final glance at the case's resting place he ran back the way he came and exited the warehouse. He sprinted down the street a few blocks, and as he got further away he slowed to a walk. As he caught his breath he looked over his shoulder to see if he had been followed. Nothing was behind him. For a fleeting moment he allowed himself to think that he had gotten away with it. He had managed to get away safely. However as he turned back around to face front, his heart sank. Standing a few yards down the path in front of him was another man, dressed in a slate military uniform with three gold stars on either shoulder. The man was a little younger than him and had shoulder length silver hair and a rather effeminate face. "Good evening, Hodur." The young officer said to him, a cruel smirk spread across his face. "Out for a stroll?" "Hmph!" Hodur replied, facing his foe with a stern look. "Forgive me, Baldur, I have no time for pleasantries." "Well that's no fun." Baldur replied. "In that case...I suppose you best return what you have taken. If you cooperate ODIN might let you live. It won't be a very glamorous life, but you will live." "What does it matter when we're all on our way to the gallows anyway?" Hodur asked. "I see LOKI have been filling your head with nonsense." Baldur replied, shaking his head. "They are tricksters, Hodur. You are a fool to believe their propaganda. They are terrorists...their words bring only chaos." "I'll take chaos over being herded into the slaughterhouse like cattle!" Hodur yelled, suddenly striding forwards. As he moved his suit shimmered in the evening light, rippling before changing altogether. The suit transformed into a brilliant white armour, with a visored helmet, and a large broadsword materialised in his hand. "Come then! I'll show you a quick death!" "Haha!" Baldur laughed, "How old is that one? I didn't think they were still in production!" "An Aesir is only as good as the one who wears it!" Hodur replied as he stormed forward again, holding his sword high. "Perhaps...but I am a man of awe, Hodur. Witness my power..." Baldur said, his grin fading. "...Ragnarok!" Suddenly the path in front of Hodur was engulfed in a bright, burning orange glow, and he felt his existence fall away like a wet cake. His armour shattered like glass and he fell to his knees. In his last moments he thought of the briefcase. Whoever found Apex Valkyrie, that person had the fate of the world on their shoulders. --- --- "It is said that the Kamishizen Bakufu secretly ruled over Japan from as early as the Feudal Era, and there existence was not common knowledge until the early 21st Century when there organisation was uncovered after a massive-" "Boooring!" the 19 year old girl with long blue hair switched the television off as she lay across her old sofa in just a pair of grey pants and a white vest. A half eaten bowl of cereal sat at her side, which she began to scarf down again without the distracting sound of the TV to drown out her horrible slurping. As she finished the bowl she burped loudly and placed the bowl on the floor beside her couch. "Why is it always ancient history shows on at this time in the morning? she asked herself as she got up. She went into her bedroom and threw off her clothes, going into the ajoining bathroom and getting into the shower. Afterwards she dried herself off and put on a muddy green set of overalls that were too big for her. She tied her hair into a ponytail and examined herself in the mirror. Her most striking feature was her piercing, yellow eyes. She smirked at herself and then pulled on a baseball gap with her employers logo emblazoned on the front: Guzzlr. Outside her apartment the streets were filthy and had fallen into disrepair. It was the same all over the Ostheim district. To the other districts it was considered a slum, but to her it was home. Her name was Mephis Ragnor, an orphan who had spent her entire life in this district. Growing up she hadn't had many opportunities, but she at least had a job. She had been working in the Guzzlr factory in Huvec for a few months now. She made her way to the monorail station in Ostheim, a run down old station that was derelict and almost looked abandoned if it hadn't been for the working vending machines. She swiped her employee I.D down the side of one of the vending machines and it dropped a free can of Guzzlr energy drink, one of the few perks of her job. She cracked open the can and guzzled down its contents, as was expected of a drink with such a name. When she finished it she crushed the can in her hand and tossed it on the ground, just as a monorail train slowed and stopped in front of her. The doors hissed open, but nobody got off. Nobody ever came to Ostheim if they could help it. She got on the train and sat on a free seat next to a young men dressed in a black jacket with a fur-lined hood, and a pair of flashy, orange shades on his head. They didn't speak, but she did notice the bracelet on his wrist, a thin band along it was inscribed with the following: "All is lost when the Trickster Gods are looked upon to show us the truth" Weirdoooo, Mephis thought to herself as the train began moving again. It had been a pretty sucky, boring morning. Maybe something interesting would happen later. Yeah, sure. Nothing interesting ever happened to her.