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  1. Yesterday
  2. Old spectres and new phantoms

    When the woman gave her explanation of why she was out there, the soldier just shrugged in apathy. That was much more mundane and boring than he thought, and he made no effort to conceal that feeling in his facial expression. It was not exactly a secret that Gavin had an ego, and despite the fact that ARMA tried its best to instill the idea that those with powers were not inherently better than those without… there were some holdouts. The soldier was more prejudiced than most, and one of them included a consistent habit of talking down to civilians that he saw as trying to play war and having the body language to match. This time was no different, though he left the comments to himself this time. Truth be told, he was starting to mentally disconnect from the situation in front of him and just let himself enjoy the feeling of the alcohol taking effect and spreading throughout his body, until she started talking about Gibson again. That got him to stop spacing out and actually pay attention to what Casper was saying, if only for a moment. But unfortunately, a moment was all that was required. When the woman said that the ghost was disappearing and that it was likely talking to Gavin that kept it in this world, the soldier’s steel grey eyes unfocused completely as he abruptly sat down to process the statement and what it meant. God damn it, he hated having a rush of emotions flood through him. That was why he started drinking in the first place, to avoid the rush of emotions that always threatened to drown him in their intensity. While he went off on Gibson for being an idiot and getting himself killed in the Vanguard, Gavin didn’t exactly do a whole lot better. The ruthless took power in Ireland as well, because they were simply willing to force out or kill those who did not comply with demands and lacked the stomach for political assassination. As much as he wanted to say his friend’s life would have been better if he had followed Gavin across the sea, the simple fact of the matter was that the shadowcaster only survived himself because he was lucky enough to be attached at the hip to someone who death himself seemed to be uniquely terrified of. In the end, every cause that either of them had ever fought for had failed. The United States was fractured and barely a shadow of its former glory. The Vanguard of Humanity was never able to destroy the monsters had that infected the planet Earth with their presence, and indeed could not even maintain their initial standing across the world and was confined to very narrow areas in most nations outside of their native South. The Republic of Ireland never reclaimed the eastern half of the island, and never approached the prosperity of even the other major nations post-Resonance. Everyone that pushed for progressive, reformist policies like Rebekah did once upon a time were forced out of the country or stripped of all power to resist in favor of a system of warlords with no transparency and no accountability. As for ARMA, they never had the ambition or the guts to seize a truly global agenda and would likely never even attempt to. Can’t fail in a task you never try, eh? There was no point in telling him that, though. Sometimes the kindest thing was a harsh word and an omission of truth, to let him think that Gavin had somehow done better. He would not burden a dead man with the failure of the living. By the time his eyes refocused, he was already up and walking to pick up his carbine and head back to his truck. His footsteps grew visibly more unsteady the more that he walked, but he bent down to pick up the carbine and just kept walking. He couldn’t stay here. Not now. He needed to leave, to put some distance between himself and this place. His right hand held the carbine lazily, barrel pointed downward while his left hand fumbled in his pockets to retrieve the keys to his vehicle. He was in no condition to drive, and once the alcohol that he had binged fully hit him he was going to be even worse off. But he didn’t care. He was not going to stay in this place and be forced to deal with his own failures. To be forced to confront actual emotions and fears that he had been bottling up for years. He might be the only one left, but damned if he was going to sit here and cry about it. What right did that fucker have to come back, just to throw some shit at him and then just fucking vanish into nothing? What right did he have to put his death and failure on Gavin’s shoulders? Fucking hell, why was his face starting to get wet all of a sudden? Why was his breath bottled up in his chest and coming out in gasps as he walked? Oh, right. The drunk crying, the type that he didn’t have the self-control to stop once he started. Just when he thought his week couldn’t get worse, some supernatural shit started happening to catch him completely off guard and send him further down that hole of drinking to cope with emotions he didn’t know how to keep a handle on.
  3. Old spectres and new phantoms

    A small shrug from her shoulders came after listening to his words. There was no doubt that she had constantly considered that there might be an alternative to getting her abilities under more control than just alcohol, but to be honest nothing seemed to ever work as well. "I'm not going to lie to you. There have been a few other things that I've tried in order to not have to drink so much, but nothing has ever come as close than drinking," she paused for a second. "Trust me. If there was another way I would take it in a heartbeat, but I suppose I'm just going to have to deal with it. That's why I have a therapist for when I come into contact with a super nasty spirit. I do appreciate you somewhat trying to help me out though. It's just something I'm gonna have to live with for now." Aingeal had noticed that Gavin's tone of voice changed drastically. He seemed much more friendly and comforting when he wasn't being paranoid, but she supposed everyone had their moments of paranoia nowadays. Was just something that came with living in the world now. Sometimes it wasn't always too smart to trust strangers. Which was why she was still slightly on edge. If there was one thing that she learned through everything was that it wasn't always smart to completely trust someone you just met. Her eyebrows raised up as he began to try and guess just why she was out in the middle of nowhere to practice shooting. Each time he made a wrong guess she would shake her head no and then scrunch up her nose. After he was finished with his horrible guessing she decided to explain herself. "If ya must know, I just feel it's particularly important to train myself in anyway possible of protecting myself. Obviously my gifts don't offer much protection. So. I need to go outside of my comfort zone and find ways to do it for myself. Shooting is just one of the ways that I feel most comfortable doing." She said her words quickly and with a smile on her lips as she stared at him. At the mention of the booze he was talking about her eyes moved to the area that the dirt had moved. Really isn't fair that people have better abilities than me, she thought, and that just makes me outright jealous. She looks over at him and then walks over to the booze crouches down to pick up a few of the bottles. "Thanks. I really do appreciate it...." She put the bottle back down for a second and stood up as he continued to speak for a second more. "I.... You're going to give me a better gun? Or just for practice..." She was slightly confused. Even if just letting her use a gun for practice would be weird. She oddly felt a sort of connection to her own gun, but that was because it had been the only one she'd owned for so long. She crouched back down to pick up one of the bottles and unscrewed the lid, taking a sip of the alcohol that was in the bottle. Typically she never really liked to just drink straight from the bottle. More often than not she liked to mix her drinks with something, but this would do. It didn't taste too bad. The only type of alcohol she could not stand was beer. The taste of cornflakes without actually eating the cereal made her want to vomit. She had stood back up and looked over at Gavin. It seemed like he was talking to himself, but she noticed that Gibson was standing close to him. Almost as if they were having a private conversation between themselves. As Gavin walked back toward her she noticed that Gibson was too. NPC : He shook his head and laughed quietly. "You tell him that I wasn't running or following after ya on purpose. Tell that fucker that if I were still alive he best bet his ass I'd try to date you. And that he'd be a fool to not be the least bit interested." He paused for a second. "I'm sure ya won't say that, but tell him that I'm sorry shit went down the way it did. That I wish I could be there for him." Gibson looked over to the right off into the distance and then back at Aingeal. "I think I will take off though. It was nice meeting you and I wish you all the best." Her eyes moved to Gavin and for a slight second she thought she was going to break down in tears, but she held herself together. This was always the part she hated. The part when the spirit was basically giving her a goodbye message to a loved one. "Gavin.... He says he's sorry about everything and how it all happened. He really does wish he could be there for you," she paused for a second. "I think he's leaving. As in crossing over.... Maybe it was only you that he needed to talk to...." NPC : Gibson started to walk off then stopped and turned slightly, looking at Gavin and at Aingeal. "Tell him he'll be alright. He's stronger than he knows. And will ya watch out for him for me. I know it's a lot to ask, but.... I think he needs it." He didn't wait for an answer because he almost already knew what she'd say. Instead he turned his back toward then and began to walk off. Then just slowly disappeared into nothing. After Gibson had walked off and went to wherever it was that she supposed he moved on to she turned her head back toward Gavin, blinking away tears and clearing her throat. "Sorry...I...." She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "He told me to tell you that you're going to be alright and that you are stronger than you know," she repeated back the words to Gavin and sighed softly, keeping the rest of the conversation to herself.
  4. Blasphemy and Sacrilege

    Tired. The word didn't begin to describe the weariness in his bones. Hunkered down and vigilant, those within their walls had circled closer and closer to the interior rooms of the building. A goliath host of sanctity slowly freezing to the core- and he along with it. For such a vicious and deadly being, it was inconceivable something so simple could bring him down. Cold, time, and someone with the patience to wait him out, was his only weakness. He struggled daily to light the candles, keep as much normalcy as possible, but nobody was coming anymore and he was beginning to think that when the frigid blanket lifted, the aftermath of the great freeze may just be as devastating as ten years prior. The church was dark, except the very inner rooms, and quiet as a tomb while everyone conserved energy waiting for this to pass- if ever. *npc* "Rhome," voice was soft, fragile in his old age. The Vicar desperately needed something. Rhome knew he'd been standing in the doorway for some time, watching the tired magus seek the warm confines of the few rooms that were left heated by the fireplaces and the steam radiators. The boiler was struggling, and he'd just beat it into submission. It left him exhausted. Heating himself, and jumpstarting the boiler.... It was taking its toll. The Vicar was weighing the fatigue of the "sleeping" magus, his premature silver plinked hair resting on the back of the chair, form as close to the fireplace as the others were comfortable with. Some still had not settled with the fact he was indeed, human combustion. Chair was warm, blankets were warm, he was finally warm after delving into the bowels of the building to force the boiler to keep firing- but very much awake despite his appearance. Eyes opened quietly at the elderly man, who cleared his throat. Something was wrong. *npc* "I have no right to ask this of you." A brow quirked over dark grey eyes, closing the book that was dormant in his lap. *npc* "Avi, I lost contact with him yesterday. Again, today... nothing. Shabbat, and I am deathly worried. He's... deeply traditional. I'm afraid, something has happened. I cannot make it there." It was the Vicar's oldest companion, an odd couple. Synagogue, upper west side. If the man had gotten sick yesterday, or was unable to light a fireplace, the Vicar was concerned even in the emergency he wouldn't do so today. The magus stood, nodding, not a second thought to what he had to do. He could tell the Vicar felt guilty, but... It was the right thing to do, if he didn't freeze first. +++ Breath was finally returning to normal, between the over a mile hike and getting into the locked building using a old particular set of skills, searching the place to find the old friend, and quietly controlling his own shivering before he'd gotten the nod to save the man's life.... he'd almost frozen to death himself. A call to the Vicar to communicate all was well, after several attempts, was finally able to get through. Now he sat, much like less than 24 hours before, Avi in the chair across from him, wrapped in blankets by the fire, he almost back to feeling somewhat normal, room flooded in firelight. He would stay with Avi in the Synagogue until he was certain the man was okay, and he himself could make it back. Not many words had passed between them, there was no need- simply content to rest and read in silence. A priest in black with his collar, a Rabbi next to him. The Vicar's friendship with Avi had peaked his curiosity, but it wasn't the time to discuss. Soft snores indicated the older man was comfortable in his sleep. The magus' eyes almost closed to his own nap when they opened again. He could see the door to the comfortable, older style office just beyond Avi's chair. It was closed to keep in the heat. He never ignored his gut, lashes lowering as the warmth from the fire continued to press against his skin. The world was alive, even beyond what mortal eyes could see. Killers, hunters, predators... knew it it could speak without magic. A gut feeling, a world moving beyond what normal people paid attention to. Too many years of being a predator. Eyes closed again, conserving energy. They were not alone.
  5. Nostalgia reading old threads for all the feels. <3

  6. Last week
  7. Naruto: Shinobi Stories

    RULES | PLOT | FACE CLAIMS | ADVERTISING
  8. Blasphemy and Sacrilege

    November 8th, 2020. Upper West Side, New York City. 1330hrs. Fucking hell. This was suicidal and stupid, even he knew that. But he did it anyway, because he had become weak. His stockpile of alcohol at the house did not last for nearly as long as he thought it would, which forced him outside in the frigid cold to get more. Smashing the window of the liquor store was probably not the best decision the man had ever made, but what the hell else was he supposed to do? The beer was frozen and had destroyed their containers, and the liquor was already looted before from the other end of the store. He did eventually manage to find some rum stashed away behind the counter that was untouched, but it wasted valuable time that could end up damning him. The soldier had many layers of clothing on, but that only got him so far. A thick parka was his outer layer, which his heavily gloved hands tried desperately to find some small bit of warmth inside. A layer or two in he had a snub nosed revolver and his karambit knives, but they weren’t exactly accessible in his current state. The gloves that covered his hands were too thick for any real dexterity, even if they weren’t completely numb from the cold. He had never bothered to get any of his extremely thick winter coats enchanted, because he never had the occasion to really use them since he had joined ARMA. He always stubbornly wore his leather jacket or something lighter and just wore layers, but very little of his silver thread clothing was actually very warm by itself. It wasn’t like his chances of being shot at today were very high, and if anyone wanted to try and stab him through this many layers of clothing they were welcome to try. The far more immediate threat, of course, was the damned cold. He had assumed it was too far back to his house before some severe frostbite kicked in, and the bike that he tried to steal to expedite the process was frozen to the point of the pedals breaking off when he tried to get moving on the damn thing. That wouldn’t work, so he needed to find something else. He needed to force a way inside of a building, but if he guessed wrong and there was no heating he may just be fucked. He needed something with lights, because if they still had power it meant that they probably had heat. Maybe a store or something, because there might still be blankets left and if he was really lucky maybe a heating unit. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any stores outside of a bike store and a bunch of restaurants nearby… and none of the restaurants seemed to exactly be open. There was another option, the churches, and Gavin would not try that particular option unless he was desperate… and he was just desperate enough to do it. The nearest one was a Jewish synagogue, with big wooden doors and lights that were still on. No doubt there were people inside, and even if there wasn’t they had power and likely some material inside that the soldier could use to get warm again. The single bottle of rum that he downed earlier would hold him over, at least for now, so at least he wasn’t shaking at the present. Boots stomped against the snow coating the ground on the way, and hands desperately trying not to shake from the cold tried the door. Locked, predictably. The windows on the doors were opaque, and had the Cross of David prominently displayed on them. Gavin couldn’t see whether there was light inside of the door, which meant he had an interesting choice. He could break down the door with his powers, but if the heating was not on or able to turned on inside he would just freeze to death slightly slower due to letting all the cold air in. He could also try teleporting inside, but if there was not a connecting shadow that ran underneath that door… He wasn’t exactly sure what would happen, because he had never wanted to change materializing inside of solid material like a door before. The likely result would be instant death, but when the alternative was slow and withering death for the crime of wanting a damned drink it didn’t sound so bad. Since the light outside was still on, this was his best shot at not freezing to death. Steel gray eyes locked on to the door, and the man breathed deeply before letting the shadow over the door take him. If he was going to die, he wouldn’t close his eyes for it. A second later, he was just past the door no worse for wear. It was noticeably warmer inside, and the soldier immediately threw off his thick gloves and started rubbing them together furiously to try and get some feeling back in them. Upper West side was an affluent part of town, of course its infrastructure still worked. Thank God for the small victories. A cold, calculating gaze surveyed the entrance area… but it didn’t seem like anyone was home. After a few minutes, the man lost the parka to have easier access to the revolver in the jacket underneath it. If there was anyone in here, he doubted it was the actual men and women who came to this holy place. In an area like this, all the locals were safely in their homes and away from the danger of the outside. Unless they were goddamn alcoholics with no self-control, that is. Fucking hell. He hoped it didn’t come to that, killing people in a goddamned church. If he had to do it, he would… but despite the awful things he had done to survive in the past, something about even the thought of killing someone in the house of God revolted him. With any luck, he would just be alone with his paranoia and nobody else would show up. What were the chances, anyway? Looking around, with the scattered lights still on… he determined the chances were too damned high and activated both cloak and noise dampening. Pulling out his revolver from the pocket of his second jacket, he held out the firearm in front of him and started moving to search the building, starting with whatever room was directly in front of him. He would not be taken by surprise and killed like this, feeling naked without the protection of his silver thread armor. Trespassing on a church, lightly armed with the stench of alcohol over his body from the residue from the liquor store... no, not like this. Not here. If there was anyone inside of this place, he would know before they ever caught a whiff of him. No regular human, or even most altered, could detect him like this. If they did somehow manage to gain awareness of him, he knew damn well they weren’t human and could react accordingly. He would get them first, before they got him. Killing a monster in the house of God wasn’t sacrilege, was it?
  9. You are all fabulous, beautiful people. <3

  10. Land of Confusion

    She dozed, much as she always did. Even when she had been in a relatively safe environment she only dozed. She couldn't remember the last time she actually slept. The nightmares were always lurking just behind closed eyes. This time something woke her. The feel of eyes on her. She could remember that creeping over the skin shiver from...from... She was somewhere dark...and cold. Concrete walls and a metal door. Her hands were hurting, knuckles bloody and bruised from vain attempts to get out the door. She didn't want to be here! She wanted to go home! She felt like metal spikes were being driven into her skull then. The pain making her clamp her hands to her temples and give a pathetic little whine. That feeling of being watched wasn't going away either. Stupid of her, she should never have stopped in the park. It was to exposed! Her pursuers easily could have figured out where Calder was bound for. In the open like this she was a sitting duck to those magus! She needed cover, she needed to hide! What was she doing trying to dig up what happened to her when her life was on the line!? The fear quickly multiplied into panic and she hopped up from the bench to look around. There was a clump of trees nearby she might be able to hide in, provided that Lightning McQueen wanna-be wasn't there yet. Oh but the lady could stop her and so could the mind guy. She really hated the mind guy. To late to try anything now, it was run or stand. While she wanted to stand she needed to even any playing field she might have. So she moved towards the trees, her hand clenching on the rough piece of shrapnel she had wrapped in duct tape to use as a knife. It was rusty but sharp and was better than nothing surely. She didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean no one was out there as she tried to be cautious. Her eyes darting about and trying to see everywhere at once. "Keep it together," she told herself trying to work through the pounding head and fear. "Don't panic."
  11. Earlier
  12. Nighttime is Playtime

    Keen attention caught the smirk. Little sassy pants was he then now, quietly watching the Alpha in the room focus on his companion, then her own Ahanu. Neck should have bristled, it didn’t. Ahanu was capable of taking care of herself if needed… she’d seen her suck the air out of someone’s lungs before, it had been amusing for the mere seconds it had taken the guy to fold and indicate he was going to finally talk. The ripple through the air though, like heat from a room wiggling into a frigid landscape was blatant. Only there for a moment, leaving a scent like fire lingering in the air. It was making more sense; the parting of the crowd for him, the unconscious slight stance change of Ahanu to a protective position next to the Sheut. Humans were strange, they smelled things… felt things pattering on their skin, could taste it on their palate, subtle tweaks of behavior, but could never seem to put two and two together unless they were highly tuned. They perceived it as a “feeling”, and their fight or flight response made it simple for them to understand. Fear. Her senses could untangle it, deconstruct it, follow its source, and it was buzzing right up her arm from the handshake. Brow quirked at the stare that seemed to also quirk Roderick. The hand that let go of hers left a pulsing echo of energy in her palm that she slid casually back into her pocket. “Go and enjoy yourself. We have a long day tomorrow.” Ahanu inclined a glance slightly to Eris and the Sheut returned the gesture. Then they were gone, the dark eyes watching after them with an almost melancholy “baby’s all grown up” expression… or just simply amused. It was hard to tell, her reactions to things were not typical. “Care to join me on the patio for a…quieter experience?” Her pause was intended. Quieter experience would have been by herself… few others intent on each other would have been by herself. Someone expecting she talk, wasn’t… Again the slight nod, “don’t mean to take you away from your guests, I’m just not the crowd type.” Quieter must have meant no people at all, because all the subtlety of the earlier Capo she’d met was gone. His strides were heavy, his presence was heavy. Odd choice of time frame for the opening of a club, or deliberate. As noticed before, people were aware of presence through ways they didn’t quite understand, they recognized big. She watched them leave, not really caring one way or the other, eyes shifting upward to the sky. You could see stars, so much more than before the world ended. The traffic, the blaze of light from the bustle of the city would choke it out almost a hundred percent of the time. They were at least visible now, along with the crazy rip in the sky. In central and south America, they were beautiful. In a plane over the ocean, breathtaking. Cheek turned toward the cold slightly, the swirl of heated patios fighting with cold air so much more noticeable to her. Kept her alert. She nodded in response to his unspoken question. Not an incredible fan of vodka though, but that particular one she enjoyed. It was sharp on her taste buds, especially after a feeding… seemed to light up the surplus of iron and burn through the new warmth in her blood. It would be rude to refuse, and would keep her on her toes, so it was a good idea all around at the moment. But, probably bring attention to something that might already be itching at him. She smelled different, and not just the ‘rolled in the hay’ with someone kind of way. It was on her skin, and internal; warming her core, powering her “engine” with more heat than normal. “Does everybody do what you tell them to?” voice was quiet, eyes casting over the patio to decide where exactly she was going to sit. She didn’t want to sit anywhere. A refined store not choked with people, sweat and hormones was one thing. A club was completely another. Agitated earlier in the evening, feeding encouraged control, but she hated crowds… and that hate supercharged the aversion to touching things, and brought the itch to smash someone in the face or tie a wayward Sheut to an east facing fence post at dawn to the forefront. Mythos sprang to mind. “What happens when they don’t?” she slid into a chair at the bar in front of where he’d perched, smirk was light, and she let it go. Eyes cast upward again for a moment, one leg crossing gently over the other… she wasn’t fond of bar chairs, however swanky they may be. They made her feel short, but she handled them with the grace of someone model tall.
  13. Land of Confusion

    Hooded green irises had been staring at the clock for almost fifteen minutes. What most would consider a regular object of methodical organization, he was going to smash into a thousand pieces in a few moments. The second hand had a lag that'd started around 4, late night back to back appointments kept him from fiddling with it to fix. Now, office assistant gone, gym closed, office closed, and every muscle was being held to a compressed quiver to prevent tearing across the room to destroy everything in his path to silence it. Depths of self control and rage were bottomless, the tangled fight leaving him still for sometimes hours. If nothing triggered action, he could take control. If agitated... something as little as a smell, or sound, all hell broke loose. Breathing. Slow. Sigh finally was pulled in, the balance of the internal battle finally tipped. Leather chair pushed back, hands on the dark wood desk as he stood. The battle was not over completely. The clock had to be silenced, and he would have to burn this off. Silent footsteps stopped at the shelf, finger delicately opening the glass face to stop the pendulum, closing it to the sound of gears ceasing to move the water torture that would have sent him into a rage two years ago. There had been a lull, when his world seemed to stabilize, now fully freight training again to an uncontrollable Were. The building was finally silent, the itch of agitation still sprinkling over his skin. Stepping into his personal bathroom, he changed quickly. Rugged runners, loose black running pants, a gray tee shirt peeled over his lithe torso. Black hoodie, fingerless gloves, black Navy skullcap. One key on a lanyard tucked into his hoodie. Hood up. Knife sheath on the inside of his forearm. Building locked, he bypassed his car for the alley and picked up pace. He had to run it out, which was next to impossible for a Were. Hours. Laps of the park spiralling inward, brain unconsciously tracking... irritation spiking, then resolving until a snap in his brain stopped the world on a dime. An entire demeanor snapped into mission mode, innocent runner instantly turning shadow and standing silently in the dark just out of the reach of the path light. Eyes on an occupied bench, brain folding over itself in scents it did and did not recognize.
  14. lol omg the little Santa hat on the 'O' in Resonance is just so adorable!!! *love this season; has much cheer to spread*

    1. Zeph

      Zeph

      lol.... ya I went for subtle...heehee

    2. Cassandra Greene

      Cassandra Greene

      Beautiful choice. I know some people leave sites this time of year that go overboard. It's cute to put flashing blinking lights or falling snow until you realize your members have to look at it everyday, and well it lags up things/eats their data.

    3. Zeph

      Zeph

      ya.... have never done that but have over decorated the title before...lol.... sometimes I make the cbox snow but usually only the actual 2-3 days of Christmas :P

  15. Nighttime is Playtime

    When Eris’s lips quirked in a half-smile at his admittedly ingenuine greeting caused him to smirk a bit himself. It wasn’t that he was upset at her presence here. His current default mood with regards to the moon, coupled with his personal disdain for surprises gave away the half-hearted attempt at polite deception. Most knew to step lightly around Tom during these times. Even the party-goers here who didn’t know him from Adam seemed to instinctively know to stay out of his way. This effect seemed to have no sway over Eris. She appeared to be more uncomfortable with the crowd than himself. He had given it some thought since their last encounter…she was one of few people in the world who didn’t display any sort of fear when dealing with him. This was oddly refreshing. Whatever occurred during the Nevus Event…she had gained some confidence with her new-found strength. But he could almost smell the cringe-like feelings coming from her when this close to so many people. Interesting. Tom turned his focus on Roderick and Ahanu. So this is why she was here. Roderick had pulled a fast one. He felt his rage boiling…then he felt his rage dissipate, slightly. Roderick was clever. He knew how this would play out and he preemptively smothered Tom’s rage as it began to swell. Jaw and fist clenched, he turned a near-feral stare at Roderick. The look was brief, there and gone in a second. The message was clear though, Roderick had crossed a line. Roderick had put a hand to his head in pain. He had made the rare mistake of underestimating the torrent of rage that Tom was capable of. Roderick’s mood-altering powers had limits, and he had just been brought to the brink of those limits. Withdrawing his hand from Eris’s, he put a firm hand on Roderick’s shoulder and gruffly said, “Go and enjoy yourself. We have a long day tomorrow.” Roderick led Ahanu deep into the throng of people as Tom returned his attention to Eris. Just as Eris had turned her attention to the near-empty patio, Tom asked Eris, “Care to join me on the patio for a…quieter experience?” Tom strode forward with a deliberate stride that was as likely to change direction as a train on the rails. The cool, night air was welcome. As soon as thud of his Alessandro Démesure Oxfords could be heard echoing on the cobblestone patio he looked to the bouncer on duty here and simply nodded back toward the club. Without a word coming from Tom, the bouncer rounded up the half-dozen or so patrons from the patio and ushered them back inside, leaving just Eris and Tom outside in the quiet night. Tom walked behind the bar that was situated in the corner near where the bouncer had stood. He grabbed a pair of glasses from underneath. He reached for a bottle of Zyr and poured it into one glass. He held the bottle above the other glass and looked at Eris, silent question obvious.
  16. You think the Outworlder struggle doesn't affect you?.... think again.... Early September, I'rial left Ireland with a promise by her mate to follow soon. He had information of a larger vessel that could take many of their Outworlder brethren away from the horrors they had grown accustomed to in Ireland. She left September tenth on a small personal vessel, he was to leave September eighteenth, just a week later. She made New York harbors....... her mate of nearly four centuries..... did not. ((His Ill Fated Trip....)) November - the ship came in and she immediately knew her mate was on it and had not survived the journey. The ice fae's grief was inconsolable. Her power magnified on the crossing ley lines of the city in an ill fated spell as the creature released her entire spirit and power in one fatal eruption, body disintegrating into flakes of snow... melted and lost to the world. It might have ended there... no one noticing......... it might have....but it didn't. It started almost indiscernible. The winter winds beginning to pick up to drastically drop the temperature in the large city, not unusual for the time of year. But soon it became clear this was more than simple winter winds. The very climate patterns had been disrupted as nights began to consistently reach temperatures that could kill in less than an hour of exposure. Days, while sunny, were not much better as the footprint of ice spread out from New York, blanketing much of the North American continent including places that never saw ice or snow before. The world now lives inside its walls and doors desperately trying to stay warm. Vehicles struggle to work as they freeze in place, the demand for "charmed" clothing to keep people warm has grown immensely, yet supply is scarce, the few mages that know how to enhance fabric unable to keep up with the demands. Scientists are baffled by the climate change and currently blame the Nevus as they do with all things they can not explain. No one is sure how long the "ice age" will last. Every sunny morning there is hope, but every dusk as temperatures again plummet that hope grows thinner. (( Time to huddle for warmth in the bars and offices! Temporary site event to encourage new stories between strangers! ))
  17. Been working 12 hour days five days a week. But that's not going to keep me away from here! lol

     

    1. Zeph

      Zeph

      lol.... glad to hear it - we understand the heavy work days!!!

  18. Finding your faith

    Galway Province, Ireland. February 11st, 2013. 2155hrs. This was it. This was the road to the end. A massive invasion force was marching toward the province of Galway, and Gavin was unlucky enough to be part of the diversion that would stall for the time needed for all of the civilians to flee. They were to stop the draconic forces, mostly the terrifying mages who looked like a terrible mixture of reptile and human. Their vile fire magic had killed uncountable masses at this point, and orders had come down for higher ups given the reptiles storming the previous borders en masse over the previously more or less secure borders to evacuate the entire damned country. The creatures were more intelligent than the dragons, though thankfully less so than humans. Individually, they were not that powerful. They won fights against mages because most mages were fucking terrible, not because the reptile mages were particularly powerful on their own. When in groups, however, their combined power was enough to torch an entire city to ashes in a matter of minutes. With virtually all of the winged dragons headed farther down south for an unknown season, the slower bipeds were left to spearhead the new westward push of the aliens. Ireland was to be given up, but the military were to be the ones to cover the final retreat and lay down their lives for the greater good. At least, that was the pitch. Nobody expected them to survive, so the remnants of the defense forces in the province were all riding to their doom as a ragtag bunch of misfits. Remnants of the Irish and British militaries were in abundance, but also volunteers from nations across the sea like Gavin himself were thrust into this position as well for better or for worse. It had been for volunteers only, and those who were particularly patriotic or had nowhere else to go signed up for the suicide mission in droves. Better to die in battle than drown due to a leak in the ocean, or be stuck out there to get roasted to death should the stalling mission fail. Better to take destiny into their own hands, they figured. Not Gavin, oh no. He wanted to be on that boat yesterday, but he wasn’t about to leave Rebekah here to die even if it meant he was damned as well. She grew up in this county, and was able to see her family in person one more time before departing in tears to ensure that they would be able to make it to the deep ocean before any of the reptile invaders made it to the western coastline. Rebekah was promoted to Company Sergeant and given command of roughly ninety individuals simply due to the fact that she was the highest ranked Irish soldier left on the ground. All of the officer corps were either down south or getting onto the boats themselves, which left Sergeant Lynch in charge of Galway’s last stand. They were arranged in three platoons, with Lynch taking the vanguard and the two other most senior enlisted taking lead of the left and right flank. Darkness fell early on in the night, but the bright headlights of the vehicles cleared the way, at least for now. All of their proper armored vehicles were destroyed at this point, so they were riding in the biggest and heaviest trucks they could get their hands on that were retrofitted with as much armor as was possible and decked out with two machine guns in the passenger seat and bed. Each truck also carried the flags of the soldiers fighting within the truck, which meant that the one Gavin was in had both the Irish and American flags streaming on the sides as it raced down the road. Body armor was worn by some, but against the threat of fire most saw it to be useless. Those who could get their hands on fire resistant gear slapped that shit on, but the rest of them typically just wore their plain old uniforms. The average age of the troops here was on the depressingly low end, probably early twenties with those being younger or older not an uncommon sight. The ride there had been boisterous, to say the least. The Irish soldiers sang A Soldier’s Song both in Gaelic and English almost nonstop for most of the ride, with Rebekah and the gunner in the back physically touching Gavin whenever the verse about soldiers coming from a land beyond the wave came up. It was a ritual that had developed because he was the only foreigner in his immediate unit, and had become a real asset as the war raged on due to his magical talent and the fact that he was quite frankly better than just about any other mage they had encountered along the way. They had gone over the plan numerous times, and when they started approaching the border the boisterous singing quieted down into almost complete silence as the praying started from the vast majority of the group. They were making peace with their God, fully aware of the fact that they would not be making it back home. Gavin himself was never religious, but he did spare a few glances over to Rebekah in the passenger seat with her head bowed and muttering a familiar prayer that she did before every major battle. ”Lord, I ask for courage. Courage to face and conquer my own fears… Courage to take me where others will not go. I ask for strength... Strength of body to protect others... Strength of spirit to lead others. I ask for dedication... Dedication to my duty, to do it well... Dedication to my country, to keep it safe. Give me Lord, concern... For those who trust me, and compassion for those who need me. And please Lord.... Through it all be at our side.” Many of the Irish soldiers wore blue face paint at least in a few lines across their cheeks, and Rebekah was no different. Hell, even Gavin did it because he wasn’t about to refuse a morale boosting exercise immediately before riding right to his death. As she was finishing her prayer, Gavin glanced over one more time and let his left hand slip from the steering wheel and held it out for a moment before it was grabbed tightly by the woman to his left. ”We’ll make it through.” the American said with a conviction he did not truly feel, ”We always do.” The American’s steel gray gaze met with the Irishwoman’s soft brown as she gave him a forced smile in response. Dress code was nonexistent, and most soldiers just let their hair grow out naturally due to the lack of time during the war to actually do any self-care or grooming, but this mission was a little different. They had time to prepare, and most wanted to die how they lived – so many of the men, including Gavin shaved off their facial hair and trimmed up enough to look good for what would likely be their final photographs to be sent back to their families. Some of the techie mages managed to upgrade some radios so every member had one, and the live feed made it back to the people on the shores so they theoretically would know how many to expect coming when all was said and done. If the group managed to survive, it would also mean that a rescue party could be sent back immediately and they could hop on one of the last boats out. An unlikely proposition, but it was good to know that if somehow, they managed to make it through this suicide mission alive they wouldn’t be left out here to starve to death or get whacked by the next patrol. Rebekah was always more of a rebel than Gavin was in some respects, and her own personal style was one of them. Her orange hair dye that she adopted early on in the war was redone, and her longer hair was braided in the style of the Celtic warriors of old. She eventually pulled her hand away, however, to reach for the radio in the truck and give out the order they had all been waiting for. ”Turn off the headlights, and put on your NVGs. I just wanted to say a quick word before we went into radio silence for the last few minutes of peace before contact with the enemy.” Gavin already started the dampening effect around their vehicle, mostly out of a precaution because these pre-battle speeches tended to get a little loud. He would not activate the darkness for a few more minutes now, because there was no possible way the enemy could be in line of sight to the convoy now. Steel gray eyes, altered to be able to see clearly in the darkness, glanced over to Sergeant Lynch as she gave her speech with admiration and pride written clearly on the American’s face. ”Today we stand as the last line of defense for the tens of thousands of refugees at the shores that are packing up their entire lives to flee their homes as we speak. Three days ago, you all answered the call to help save these lives by making a line in this ancient ground to give the rest of humanity hope. Hope that this alien menace can be stopped, and our sacred homeland may one day be reclaimed from the jaws of the reptile invaders that currently hold her hostage.” ”Someday, when these invaders are but a history lesson for the children of Ireland, the entirety of the world will come together and remember this place… this sacred ground watered with our blood, freely given to heavenly cause and say that humanity was here! They will say that the soldiers here, on this day, taught our enemy that humanity does not falter! That we proved to those reptilian bastards that humanity does not surrender! And most of all, they will salute the battle standard of our ancestors and say that we are the reason that they yet draw breath! Their mothers, their fathers, their daughters and their sons… all alive and well because we DID NOT FAIL! Faugh an Beallach! Clear the way!” With that, the woman put the radio down and manned the machine gun in the passenger seat. They had made their separate peace before riding off, promising each other that they would not devolve into tears and I love yous in the midst of battle to get both of them killed like idiots. They held a simple wedding the day before to join them in the eyes of God, and if they both survived it would be made public when both of their families could make the trek over to attend. For now, though, the shadowcaster just focused on maintaining a minimal shroud over the vehicles around him and a moderate noise dampening to make sure that they were not heard in their approach. After the awful waiting that seemed like an eternity, the enemy was spotted on the horizon. Previous encounters showed that these reptile mages were not immune to their own fire, and tended to have quite the accuracy at a distance with their magic. Up close, however, they were not immune to panic and were not nearly as comfortable flinging around that deadly fire. This led to a simple, but extremely dangerous strategy in closing the gap and fighting the enemy in hand to hand combat to prevent the mass use of magic. Their scales were thick, but not thick enough to deflect bullets like their trueborn flying cousins. They were also not immune to solidified shadow, which in this much darkness meant that as long as the American stayed alive he could cut a devastating swath of death throughout the battlefield. Which would be more necessary than initially thought, because not only were there hundreds of the abominations present… but two dragons circling overhead as well to protect the flock. This was not in the plan because while the two species had worked together in the past the dragons were never intelligent enough to actually guard the mages for any extended length of time. Their animal level intelligence made it impossible, or so they had thought. ”I’ll take care of the dragons. You take care of the mages. I love you, Gavin. Stay safe and don’t do anything stupid.” Rebekah whispered, grabbing the 20 inch barrel HK417 that she had become so famous for shooting down dragons with before and jumping out of the damned vehicle with all the casualness in the world. Like it was routine and like those weren’t the last words that she would ever speak to her husband. Fuck. With Rebekah there, Gavin could at least lean on the aura of confidence that she always had to make it through the initial charge and steel himself. With her gone, he was just left by himself staring down a suicidal run forward that would likely see him killed instantaneously. Alone. Despite his best efforts to hide it throughout the campaign, the fact remained that Gavin seemed to feel fear more than most others that he served with. The fact was, he was still terrified to die and only forced himself to keep it together so Rebekah didn’t notice. With her gone, the façade of confidence started cracking immediately. All he could do now is maintain the cloak and noise dampening and hope to God this plan worked, because if he fucked up and any one of them caught wind of what was happening… all of them would die without firing a shot. If anyone panicked and fired a shot too early, it would also kill them all due to making a noise too loud to be dampened without significant power expenditure and advanced warning. But the wedge held together and waited. They waited until they were within one hundred yards of the enemy, and then they lowered their machine guns and started firing into the masses of the reptilians. The drivers also started flooring it to close the distance as quickly as possible, and in Gavin’s case he started to scream the words to spells to unleash every bit of shadow he could into killing and disabling the invaders with as little power expenditure as possible. As soon as the machine guns started firing, the shadowcaster dropped the noise dampening and as soon as the trucks started ramming into the aliens he dropped the cloaking entirely. He would not let Rebekah down, not now. He would survive this, regardless of what it took. Sharp and deadly stakes rose from the ground in intervals to impale the monsters where they stood while balls of shadow as big and dense as cannon balls were propelled as fast as the Altered could manage in a wide arc in front of Gavin’s lead vehicle as he used almost all of his remaining power all at once to cause as much initial damage and panic as possible. Here in the pitch black of an Irish winter night, his strength was as high as it ever could be with the complete lack of a moon overhead to wash away the shadow. This was the strongest he had ever been, with more shadows than he had ever had to fuel his powers. He just needed to cause enough initial damage to give the rest of them a chance, and he willing to damn near kill himself casting spells to do it. From above, he heard the roar of one of the dragons above and looked up to see the damned thing soaring straight at him. He could hear the screams of his fellows as their vehicles were met with the fireballs of the mages, but so far Gavin had cleared a path for himself and those immediately behind him that they were able to just roll on through… until now. ”Fuck…” he muttered, his face draining of color immediately. He didn’t have enough left to take down the dragon, at least not quickly and in his panic he just froze there with his foot hard on the gas pedal and watched the dragon open its mouth to rain fiery death over the wedge… Then a shot rang out and hit the fucker in the jaw. The force of the impact and surprise factor on the dragon caused it to redirect its fiery breath to the back rows of the mages, killing at least a hundred of its own kind in one fell swoop. A second shot hit the wing bone of the creature, causing it to screech in pain and start losing altitude, and the third shot hit the fucker right in the eye and dropped it over another group of reptilian mages. The corpse falling out of the sky must have killed at least a dozen of the damnable creatures, but that still left one more dragon. But by the looks of it over half of the ranks of mages were destroyed, and the American raised his left fist in the air to give a cheer of celebration for a moment before turning his attention back to the battle… Too late to react to the ball of energy that hit the truck he was in and sent the damned thing flying. Due to the lack of a seatbelt, he was flung into the air quite a distance away. He lost his radio in the fall, alongside the rifle he had between his legs. His means of communication and his best nonmagical weapon both taken from him in an instant, and then everything went black. The next thing he knew, the American was on his back in the middle of a pile of heavily scorched reptilian bodies, and absolutely covered in wet blood. Whether that blood was his or someone else’s, he had no idea, but what he did know is that his head hurt like hell. He propped himself up on his elbows to observe the situation around him, and to be frank it looked better than he had expected. Out of the thirty trucks they had brought with them, every single one of them seemed to be destroyed. There were still about a dozen fighters still alive, using the destroyed hunks of metal as somewhat effective cover against the remaining mages who seemed to be doing the same. There seemed to be about two dozen of the mages left, and one of them just got brained by a sniper round as he was watching. The second dragon was also dead, riddled with bullets in both wings and its face that looked like they came from multiple machine guns while the American was knocked unconscious. That meant Rebekah was still alive, so Gavin just needed to do his part as well. He still had some energy left to play with some of the shadows that covered every inch of the battlefield, aside from the bits on fire. Three reptilian mages ducked underneath a destroyed truck in front of him, and soon each of them were decapitated by a trio of higher speed scythe slashes that cleared one small group of human soldiers to advance just a little bit farther. The shadowcaster was too drained to cast spells without at least whispering the words to the spells, but he had assumed that all of the reptilians around him were dead already. He was wrong. The good news was that the fucker was just as drained as he was, or he would have died in a ball of fire. The bad news was that the American had thick, reptilian hands around his neck and was close to either getting his neck snapped or suffocating to death because he was caught in an exhale from the start. God, it was a strong little monster. If Gavin didn't have such a muscled neck it would have snapped under the pressure instantaneously. The bastard lunged right at him and had its body weight sitting on the human’s stomach, and the mage itself was absolutely wretched looking. Severe burns covered its entire body and seared the skin beneath the thick scale, and it seemed to be breathing out of sheer spite while it summoned the last of its life force to kill one last enemy. The thing had the ugliest elongated lizard face the American had ever seen in his life, and its jaw seemed to be locked open with burns so severe in its mouth that the human could see its jawbone, along with the charred flesh that remained attached to that bone. He wasn't sure how it was still alive, but the reptile seemed pretty to determine to ensure that Gavin didn't remain breathing for much longer than it did. He was too far away from the action for anyone to help him, because he had given no indication that he was not simply a corpse at this point. The pile of bodies would probably block vision of the reptilian basically lying on top of him at this point, so he needed to come up with a way to get himself out of this situation himself. He had his pistol in a leg holster, but it was secured by a strap and there was no way he could get that strap undone in this condition… The knife. He had a knife. Gavin used his last bit of energy to lunge his chest forward in order to grab the fighting knife on his right thigh, and then just started stabbing as fast as he could will his muscles to move. The first stab was too weak to pierce the scales, but the second and third ones in the exact same spot started to dig deeper and deeper into the stomach of the beast. The American twisted the knife around as best he could to release or at least loosen the grip of the creature and cause as much internal damage as possible, but the stubborn thing continued holding on tight. Just as his vision started to black out, the reptilian loosened its hold as the blood loss became too much for the creature to bear. The man immediately shoved the creature to the side as it struck human with fist and foot in its last gasps of life. The strikes hurt, but were not nearly as life threatening as the choking and within about thirty seconds the beast was too weak to fight or simply dead. Breathe. Breathe. The man became acutely aware of a few things in that moment as he regained awareness of his surroundings. The first thing was that he had liquid on his face that his grimy hands could only somewhat wipe off, which was likely spittle from the reptile’s jaws. The second thing was that he had pissed himself while being choked out and so his pants were soaked, and the third thing was that the humans appeared to be winning now. There were roughly a dozen reptilians left to six humans that he could see, and another sniper shot rang out to make it eleven mages and eight humans if he counted both himself and Rebekah. They could do this. Gavin dropped the knife he had been clutching for dear life and carefully and slowly reached for his old American issued M9 and undid the holster for it. He drew it making as little sound as he could, thanking every god there ever was that the enemy mages were too distracted with being shot at that they neglected to notice the melee that was going on behind them as he lined up a shot at the closest one. It was stupid, but in the moment, there was no thought behind these actions. It was just instinct, and his instinct was to kill as many of these abominations as possible to ensure that none of them made it past the border of Galway into the lightly defended ports behind them. He fired his first burst of four shots in time with a burst from the assault rifle of an ally to help cover the noise, hitting a lone mage hiding behind a truck multiple times and wounding it severely. The fucker was so distracted by the threat from the front that it had no idea that there was a threat from behind, but it hissed something to its comrades that made them very aware of what had just happened. Fuck. If only he had been a better shot. Before the reptiles fully turned back to observe where the shots could have come from, Gavin discretely dropped the pistol and just played dead as a last ditch effort to survive. He closed his eyes and did his absolute best to remain as still as possible, hoping for the best and knowing at least he wouldn’t see his death coming at worst. In these tense moments, he was acutely aware of every discomfort possible that would make him want to move. The disgusting blood, spit, and piss that covered his body was absolutely disgusting and most of it came in layers at this point. His upper back was lying on a few small rocks that dug into his flesh in the most uncomfortable way, and the soil underneath his body overall was wet and goddamned cold. To shiver while the mages were watching was to die, though, so he fought the urge as hard as he could. He stayed completely still, refusing to flinch at the sounds of gunfire and the smell of burning flesh and the screams of those being torched to death by that roaring dragon for what seemed like a goddamned eternity. Then all the noises stopped. Gavin waited ten long seconds, counting as slowly as he could before he opened his eyes and took a look. Two injured mages hiding behind a truck about fifty feet from him, looking in the other direction. The soldier grabbed his pistol, aimed, and emptied the rest of his clip of eleven bullets right at them in quick succession. About a five of the shots missed entirely, but the other six found their mark around center mass and ended up dropping both of them fairly effectively. Thank God for hollow point bullets. Gavin continued pulling the trigger after the clip emptied for a few more seconds, not registering the metallic clicking and lack of bullets due to exhaustion and the sustained panic and fear that he was still suffering from. Any second now, any of the surviving mages would burn him to a crisp for taking that stupid risk and he would be burnt alive for making too much noise. Any second now. Huh. Guess not. The soldier pushed himself up, finding himself still dizzy from the concussion sustained earlier as he got a full view of the battlefield for the first time. The smell of burning flesh remained exceptionally strong in the air, and the landscape matched the scent. Human bodies burnt to the partially melted bone by dragon breath littered one end of the battlefield, with reptilians riddled with bullets littering the ground in front of him and behind the trucks that made it past the initial push. The stench of burning flesh was nearly unbearable at this point, and anyone who was not a veteran of this war would have been doubled over puking at one whiff of that awful scent. Not Gavin, though, because as unpleasant as it was he had smelled worse in the beginning of the conflict. They had held the line, but at tremendous cost. Even with Rebekah coming down to observe the damage up close, Gavin only saw four people total still standing… and that was including himself. Two additional soldiers seemed to be breathing, but they were visibly burned pretty badly. When he caught site of his wife, however, everything else seemed to just fade away around her. Rebekah seemed to have her uniform burned moderately, and made sure to give a wide arc to some of the hunks of metal that used to be the trucks that were still bright with heat from the fire magic of the reptilians. Otherwise, though, it just seemed to be sweat and dirt which meant that she didn’t sustain any major injuries. The American could spot the exact moment that Rebekah noticed that the figure completely covered in dried mud and reptile blood was him, though, because she immediately started sprinting towards him and tackled him to the ground in a fierce hug. She managed to hold in the tears until she had made physical contact with him, which meant that she probably thought he was dead. Which was a fair assessment, because so did Gavin for most of that fighting. ”You picked a hell of a day to not wear a seatbelt,” she breathed in between tears, ”The rescue crew are on the way and…” she paused, pulling her arms off of the American momentarily to actively check his body for injuries. ”Fuck, I didn’t hurt you did I?” ”Becks, you’re perfect.” Gavin murmured, the reality of the situation finally hitting him. It finally hit him how lucky he was to not be one of those charred corpses on the ground, and he started crying too in a mess of fear, guilt, and relief to be alive. They had done it. They had won. And it was mid-sob that once again the American lost consciousness, all of the exhaustion from his massive power expenditures and injuries catching up to him all at once as the adrenaline finally wore off.
  19. Drinking Buddies [02.25.2020 7PM]

    Gavin was never the type to complain about getting his hands dirty, which was just as well because the current situation from any outside eye was pretty disgusting. The warm food was hitting the soldier’s face, but only about half of it was actually reaching the chewing phase. He jumped slightly when he heard Cruz’s voice so close to him, but quickly went right back to shoving food into his face with just a tad more accuracy. ”Of course it is.” the soldier snapped back, words slurring much more noticeably than before. ”The taxi should be here any second now.” he continued in between bites, before suddenly pushing himself up in the middle of one and abandoned the now smashed remnants of the cheese sticks and the unopened pizza completely. ”Fuck, it’s cold.” he mumbled, glassy gray eyes surveying both sides of the street in anticipation of the cab. The man absentmindedly rubbed off the cheese and grease seared into his hands and forearms as he started to pace back and forth impatiently. Boots stomped on the ground with every step as the soldier’s upper body slumped forward and shivered. ”Keys left front pocket.” he recited as Cruz came into view once more, part of the ritual he had gotten used to saying to a person nearby that wasn’t completely destroyed when they were around. He would normally say where his keys were and where the weapons on his person were, but for once he had brought no weapons with him. No matter how destroyed he got in a random bar, his powers couldn’t be stolen from him and he couldn’t exactly discharge it by accident. He also couldn’t flat out set it somewhere and forget it in a blackout phase, which happened often enough to be an issue that was planned for when possible. … Fucking light. This wasn’t the first time he had to be dragged into his house, and it was certainly not going to be the last. At the very least, it was a good house in a good area. Five stories with a garden (though horrifically unmaintained at this point) and both basement and roof access. Hell, he even had ten parking spots reserved in the parking lot about a block down the street. Much too good for him right now, but a goddamn battle to get in the first place. It was a townhouse style building in the Upper West side of Manhattan, within walking distance of the old Catholic Church of the Holy Trinity. It was an enormous purchase, and was originally a group purchase between about four families that fled from England in the beginning stages of the Dragon War and bought up the enormous building while prices were extremely low because of the lack of public order and lack of bodies to occupy the many buildings in the city. By 2017, the house was put up for sale because the property prices had shot through the roof and the four initial families had an irreparable falling out that had to be settled in court. Gavin made a habit of taking souvenirs from doomed areas over the years to supplement his horrendous salary as a soldier before joining the Silver Winged. Mostly jewels and other easily portable objects that would retain value once society got back together. When all was said and done, the American contributed about a million towards the house by selling off all of his baubles and pooling all of his savings together from the year they had already spent with the Silver Winged. Rebekah ended up auctioning off about four dragon skulls for roughly the same amount to collectors who were much more eager for the bones than they might have thought. Four other coworkers ended up chipping in roughly a quarter of a million each in exchange for rooms within the complex, but both had sold back their shares in the years since in order to chase money or adventure. Most of them went outside of the city in search of these, but the one that didn’t was actually the one who got the tip off about the house in the first place and was at this moment a very successful house flipper who got filthy rich by making the necessary renovations that the previous tenants lacked the resources to do and just reselling. Not that Gavin could touch anywhere close to a million these days, and indeed even paying for the maintenance of the house cut a decent chunk out of each and every one of his paychecks. He was living alone in this enormous house, partially because he was paranoid and partially because anybody that he trusted enough to share the building with found him to be absolutely insufferable and left within a few months. That didn’t exactly help the soldier’s willingness to bring fresh blood in, but between the drinking and the fact that he was too damned lazy to do some of the repairs and general maintenance by himself meant that he might not have much choice in the matter sooner rather than later. The drunkard woke up on his couch on the ground floor with a groan, in an instant noticing that for some reason he had dried cheese all over his bare hands and arms alongside the fact that he had a noticeable amount of dirt on his left side for a reason he could not entirely remember. The living room itself was fairly generic at the moment, with multiple couches surrounding a fireplace that hadn’t been lit in years and a large flag of Connacht hanging above it. The room had a metal door to the back garden area and another opening towards a long and narrow kitchen area. There were three other doors that led to the bed and bathrooms for the floor, the cellar, and the foyer with stairs leading to the second floor respectively. The house was obviously a thing of beauty, once, but years of partial neglect had taken its toll and any polish the area might have once had was gone. It was much more of a functional living space than the pet project it used to be, which suited Gavin just fine. ”Fuck…” he muttered, reaching blindly for the whiskey that should have been on the table next to him but finding nothing. ”Fuck.” he hissed, a little bit more loudly this time as he rolled to his side and grabbed his aching head before forcing himself to sit up and steady himself. He closed his steel gray eyes and was content just to breathe in and out for a few moments as he steadied himself. ”I need a goddamned shower, jesus.” he muttered under his breath but made no immediate effort to actually get up. He needed to work up the motivation to do that at this point, and that motivation was simply harder to come by than usual.
  20. 18+ historical fiction roleplay set in British India territory. Small collaborative writing community with member-driven opportunities. No word count. Substantial plots. Very active! † Home † Rules † Plot † Subplots † Adoptables † Advertisement † It is nearly the beginning of summer season of 1797, from March to April. While the air heats, wealth of promises linger in the air with spices and incense: Treasure awaits for adventurous souls. Truth is a double-edg'd dagger which handle is only for the hand brave enough to wield it. Prosperity glimmers in pearls and silks, like fine wine of merchants' cunning. In the City of Destiny, nomads roam, spies watch, secrets are buried, and blood is spilt. Will families be divided or united by the British rule? Come across the Indian Ocean for the world here is endless. Try your best to not get lost in it.
  21. Created by: @Gavin de Luc What is this Character needed for (include any existing or upcoming plots): The initial idea, which could always be edited, plays on the fact that my character ( @Gavin de Luc) is desperate to know whether his wife is dead or not to have that sense of closure that he never received. I want him to get wind of an Altered who can track anyone, and I want this Wanted Ad to protect that Altered for some reason. This Ad has a power set that while not super powerful, completely and utterly counters my character's and will ideally have a resume that includes plenty of hero credentials. I want my character to slowly and painfully realize he is the bad guy and how far he has fallen by being put up against a person that he can find no moral fault in individually and cannot just cut down in frustration when he realizes this. I also want a character that is mine's opposite in many ways. Where mine is hyper-masculine, I want femininity. Whereas my character has broken in the face of tragedy, I want someone who had the personal willpower to avoid letting it damage her soul. Whereas my character prides himself as being a poor kid from Georgia, I want an aristocrat. I want to force my character to realize that his way is not the only way and force him to deal with some long held prejudices that have been allowed to sit there for quite a long time all in character. The frustration and angst will be delicious. Possible ship later on, which would be terrible for both of their professional careers, but amazing drama and very much one of those star crossed lover situations that I enjoy so much. I love causing my characters pain and destroying rigid perceptions of the world, and this ad is a great way of doing that for one of my most stubborn characters. Age: 27 Personality: Fundamentally, believes security is more important than freedom Believes self to be charged with abilities by a higher power in order to do good in the world, and intends to cause that good to happen. Refuses to lose sense of self, despite all that has happened Deeply prideful, both of heritage and of ability. Privileged life before and arguably after the Resonance means that despite her efforts to connect with the 'common citizen', she has a fundamental disconnect because she simply can't understand the daily struggles of poverty, homelessness, and helplessness that so many struggled with even before the Resonance. Deeply emotional with both motivations and judgement processes. Will 'go with her gut' rather than deal in hard facts and logic when pressed into quick decisions. Genuinely tries to see the good in even the worst people, but once a determination is made that a being is irredeemable that decision is near impossible to reverse. Internally motivated on a consistent basis and intensely energetic at most times. Plagued by the self-doubt that she uses to fuel herself to new heights underneath a mask of being the model magus. History: Raised in London as a daughter to a very wealthy family and had elite grades and prospects when the Resonance hit in 2010 Ended up fleeing England before the Order recruited her, a cowardly decision she regrets to this day Was thrown to the wolves early on like many other mages and at first simply survived Eventually grew to learn how to use and abuse personal strengths like natural charisma, intelligence, and becoming more and more proficient with her own power set Worked for years across Europe as a Sword Magus, essentially protecting the human world from the monsters of darkness and hunting magical relics to bring back to the Order of Light to ensure they would not be abused by a rogue mage or infected. Took promotion to 2nd Class and transfer to New York Division around June/July 2020. Despite horrific experiences, still a relentless idealist and optimist. Probably does some humanitarian type volunteering stuff, maybe medical training at some point Owns some sort of smaller contract type business for a generally innocent hobby. Photography? Filmmaker? Interior design? Costumes? Fashion? Tailoring? Horse competitions? True believer that the Order of Light is an organization that has the best interests of humanity and Earth at heart, and that it is the most effective means of using her powers to help the people that she has sworn to protect. Skills: Excellent people skills/charisma Possibility for combat medic training by OFL Distance running Investigation/Detective skills Smart // Quick Learner Abilities (adopter to add more details and include limits): Light and Sound creation/manipulation, with sound being stronger. Can amplify existing sound or light but has to have at least a small amount to work with so spund based abilities typically start with a clap, stomp, or snap and light based abilities start with either existing light or a small creation of it like a flashlight, phone, or fire. Low Drain Minor light creation to the level of a weaker level flashlight Minor noise creation to the level of a loud phone alarm Light creation to the level of a floodlight but no noise and the ability to direct that light to a specific location Noise creation to the level of a car horn but no light and the ability to target rhat noise to a specific location Photokinetic Invisibility, manipulating light waves to effectively cloak oneself by a distortion of light particles. Medium Drain Explosion of noise and light that is equivalent in effect to a flashbang in terms of visual and hearing impairment. Targeted effect over a small area 10-15ft. Sonokinetic flight, ability to propel oneself through the air using sonic waves. Creates a significant amount of noise and is not "flying" more than propulsion. Sonokinetic blasts, the ability to fire off sonic energy from hands and mouth in a form that can physically throw someone back and disorient them due to the specific noise it creates tailored to induce vertigo in humanoid creatures. High intensity ultrasonic sound causes organic eyes to vibrate and disrupts the fluid in the ear to cause this vertigo. Flash Step, or using a burst of sonic energy to propel oneself forward so fast it almost cannot be tracked by the human eye, combines with light ability to create a still afterimage lasting two seconds at initial location to deceive and disorient enemies. Limited to 35ft travel distance at once and can only travel in a straight line in the direction that the user is facing at the time. 3x limit without rest. High Drain Wave Motion Blast: Basically a large discharge of power that unleashes all sonic energy in a violent and uncontrolled fashion in a 360 degree direction. This ability has no regard for friend or enemy as it goes out in all directions. (leaves user unconscious) Created By: Gavin de Luc
  22. Words and Wax

    Branden tilted his head as he pondered all the woman words. She had been honest with him, at least as far as he could tell and he had no reason to doubt her. The shop owner had even shared a little of her own struggles and her connections to the somewhat questionable organization ARMA and, other sources, however reliable they might be. He drew in a breath and glanced over at her feeling a bit sheepish for his childish eagerness to solve what could be an ancient mystery shared by all those affected when paths of so many world collided in a single day. Many changed forever and the rest wondering how to cope with the aftermath. “Do,” Brandon began as he glanced at the wooden box again and then back at his hostess, “do you know where I might be able to, um, explore this in a little more safety and secrecy?" He sat the box down gently on the table and added, “I’d like you there, that is if you could spare a little time.”
  23. Eluine Cycle

    Eluine Cycle "Generation upon generation, the blood of Elua and his Companions runs still in the veins of their descendants, the D'Angelines, each of whom will one day follow to the land that lies beyond. And though centuries pass, they do not forget, but call their land still after that further one, and keep always sacred the precept of blessed Elua, that is, 'Love as thou wilt'. Such is Terre d'Ange." - Jacqueline Carey, The Eluine Cycle Eluine Cycle is a free-form roleplaying forum inspired by the series Kushiel's Legacy by Jacqueline Carey. We aim to be as inclusive as we possible can be, so if you have not read the books we are more than happy to help you learn as we go along! There is always plotting going on and in-character positions open in all walks of life and experiences, from royalty to the lowest of peasants, and if slice-of-life is what you prefer, we have plenty of that as well! So please, bring your ideas on over and join us, both on the boards and in our discord channel!
  24. Naruto Mythos

  25. Grand Opening

    Got a helluva Lucky Charm at that…. Grin grew again. He was easy, laid back. A lesser would have bristled… he just shot it back. For the first time in a long time, the shoulders relaxed as she let herself actually enjoy the third Yorsh. Awww fuck off Joe, stop bustin' my balls! Back leaned into the wall, the boot propped on the stool between them rocked a bit as she "listened in" on the crowd. Conversations away from them focused on briefly to determine the topic of discussion before moving to the next group. He had a girl working the room tramp hard but seemed most the guys were ignoring her. Other than the ho, the crowd really seemed just a casual, feet up on the coffee table sort of crowd. So that's your game then.... run me out of town... wait, was that doubt it'd be successful I hear in your voice? Absolutely… The immediate response was laced with a chuckle as the glass came to her lips. Somehow I didn't think the stuffy butt brigade would give two shots, but hey... leprechauns got gold, pretty rainbows and bad movies. We be psychotic little bastards... They dont.... and for the record, you represent well the little bastards…. She also didn’t bristle. She was a hothead about a lot of things but not this sort of ribbing on the family. It wasn’t a threat, just banter. She hadn't been this relaxed since a certain ammo dealer spent time drinking with her in a cemetery. Frown ghosted over the dark shades a moment, the Cajun had been awol since she returned from Egypt and she had managed not to think about him for weeks. I bet on you Joe! Now I gotta win back my money, I'm too drunk for that shit! Whoever has the balls to win me back my money gets free drinks and a shag! Lips curled down in feigned disgust as the interruption diverted the spiral into a dark mood back into neutral. Eh….. shag a leprechaun? How is that a prize? Though even as she said it the glance went to the table. It was tempting. She had never played in her old life. The blind couldn’t "shoot pool". But on the richly engraved tables at Bakkhos in the after hours of the club, Toni had taught her in private. Depth perception and which balls were hers was the hardest things to overcome as the white outlines of her gift showed her the edges of the table in the same plane, but it hadn't taken long for the sharp mind to begin compensating, reading the brightness of the lines to determine their depth. She learned the placement of the balls in the triangle and therefore learned never to take her eyes off the table, watching the break so she could tell where every ball ended up. It didn’t always work, but it worked more than it failed. As long as she kept the balls straight, she could run the damn table. Her unusual "vision" of the world helped to remove all distractions and learn the precision of angles. She enjoyed the game but only played with family that knew her….. shortcoming… and only in private. She feared the humiliation of making a mistake. Still…. the challenge of it played on her risk seeking side. Head shook faintly to remove the thought from her head as the glass came back to her lips. She needed to be more careful than that.
  26. RULES | PLOT | SETTING | STARTER GUIDE | WANTED
  27. Nighttime is Playtime

    She hated people. She hated people. She hated people.... dark lashes narrowed as she stared down a party goer that had attempted to make a beeline toward her and Ahanu with a tumbler of something from the bar. A small head shake and he was moving back toward the bar. Nose crinkled slightly, refusing the urge to rub it to ease the smell of pheromones... and chlorine... and sweat... booze-y sweat, crappy perfume. Sex. The whole damn room smelled like hot blood and sex. ...and agitated Lycanthrope. ...with a smitten Roderick in tow. For Christ's sake. Eyes flicked to the still somewhat deserted patio as an escape. Seemed all the fun was in here, which meant she would rather be out there. A glass of something, watching the dark sky in swirls of winter cold and warmed air, relishing in the silence. But no. Silent, rolling thunder may have parted the seas for him, but it stopped short when it hit her cool wall of indifference. She didn't move, for anyone, and she didn't care if they wanted her to either. He would never be able to sneak up on her...not that she wasn't okay with that. Nostrils flared slightly as she breathed it in, the fresh blood in her veins allowing her to read more into the intricacies that most would never know. Alpha, with a scent as good as a fingerprint now. She'd killed an alpha once, regretfully... but he'd been trying to kill her in full fang mode so it was necessary. "Welcome to Bakkhos, I'm glad you decided to come." The slight curl of her lip paused, then tilted upward on one side in a lopsided grin. Brow quirked. The word liar almost slipped from her lips. She nodded slightly, the faint amused expression on her face evident she knew the jig was up between Ahanu and Roderick. It wasn't often she overlooked things, but wasn't surprised. Ahanu was beautiful in every sense of the word, she expected it, but Ahanu rarely returned affection. The Viceroy wouldn't be tweaked about it, the air magus could be with anyone she chose. Just wasn't sure if Roderick knew what he was getting into... The shaking hands thing again...she had to remind herself he was just being polite. Unless she was feeding, fighting or fucking she hated touching people. A distaste that had lingered from her mortal years. When people wanted to touch her they were either teasing, beating the crap out of her or shooting at her... among other humiliations she no longer had to endure. Graceful hand withdrew from her pocket to shake Gallo's, grip iron, skin warmer than usual. Business had essentially concluded between them, he wasn't under any obligation to entertain her. She could entertain herself. "Pleased to be invited Mr. Gallo. I'll get out of your hair now and let them have their..." lower lip rolled through her teeth, "...date." Brutal honesty was quiet, calm, rum rich with honey, and still licked of amusement. She'd gotten all dressed up to be a chaperone. Dark eyes flicked to Ahanu, she nodded toward the patio. Veiled, aloof smirk glanced at Roderick a moment before releasing Gallo's hand and sliding hers back into her pocket. She wouldn't ruin an evening for Ahanu with her business. Business could come later. Pristine, plain manicure traced delicately down the silver chain briefly to make sure the gold ring was still tucked in the folds of her shirt. Another time. "Besides, I forgot my bikini," comment to Ahanu was under her breath, extremely rare warm humor quiet as eyes slid over to the patio to find an escape route. "Keep the car... I'll find my own way home when I want to leave." When, not if. Not bored, just tired of crowds. She hated people because people hated her. The bullying and ire thrown at her for twenty years of her life had stored in her psyche like kinetic energy. It would be a long time resonating back into the world, if it ever ran out. Came off as arrogance, and she was okay with that. Glance again to Gallo was uncharacteristically more cordial than usual. She'd been had, but was okay with that too... for a while anyway... because it was Ahanu. There would be a limit though to her tolerance for watching drunken brouhaha, even if it was trying to be fashionable. The Sheut didnt want to hold her back. The entire room smelled like sex and ego. She needed silence, air, and a damn drink. Besides... Bakkhos may have thought they were scoping her out, it was completely the reverse. There was some clue in their tight inner circle that the world was more organized than they thought, how much of a clue they had that she was that umbrella that weathered the storm for them to rebuild was yet to be seen. Maybe she could get some insight tonight. Or maybe she could just stare at the stars. Stars were more interesting. Nod was slight to all, and she moved to make her escape.
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