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18+ 3/3/3

May, 2010... Fantasy became reality. Worlds overlay for the briefest moment. Outworlders became stranded on earth as more than half the human populace vanished. Our World, our universe, was transformed.

Fiction is now reality. Humans and those now bound to this world will either learn to coexist, or battle for supremecy.


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  1. Yesterday
  2. Just in time for Halloween! Bakkhos Club will be holding an elite Masquerade Ball. Full costumes are not required, but masks are! Most guests are on an exclusive invitation list. Only 30 from the general public will be permitted, so line up early and be prepared to pay the hefty cover charge, a small sacrifice for a ticket into the hottest party in town!! As always, weapons will be confiscated at the door. Start dreaming up who you are taking and what they are wearing! Opening threads coming soon and will be linked here!
  3. Earlier
  4. Derrick Mason Gray

    Throw Me Sumthin' Mista

    He was forlorn. It resonated in his very breathing as she brought up the home of his angels. He missed it, or the idea of it anyway. “I am the radar... Would cost a fortune I no longer have to git all the other down there, and even them. It’s… part of the gulf now. Some areas, not so much. The good parts, take scuba gear a lick and a prayer that the gators won’t snipe your ass because the water so muddy dark you couldn’t see them coming. I can, most couldn’t.” I could…. Giant shag of a messy bun made by the half pulled through ponytail was unfolded, the small elastic tugged out of the mahogany mane and wrapped around her wrist as long fingers combed out the frazzled fluff. Was it an offer to help? Maybe. He wasn’t the only one with radar. Though why she would want to go crawling around some rancid everglade with him was a bit elusive. The fun of it? The excitement? Being out in the middle of nowhere with him to herself? The last drew the brows downward almost imperceptibly. She clearly needed more to drink, a fact he seemed to graciously work to fill for her as her glass was once again full, the charms like fairy laughter on her ears as they struck the glass. The refill was half gone by the time he started tinkering again. She would need a fresh glass in a minute. As hers quickly evaporated down her throat, he was up getting a glass of… water?!?... from the sink. Brow quirked up at him questioningly, that was a good way to kill the savor off a good liquor. “World we knew ain’t coming back. Maybe time to stop pretending I can save mine.” World is what we make it…..now more than ever. Quiet words murmured as she started on the last half of her glass, listening to his sigh and melodic curse. Ya… he was all sorts of despondent, his trip had him downright depressed. She wasn’t really sure what to do with that. She wasn’t one of those "sunshine and roses" girls herself. She listened as he rummaged through drawers of parts. She wasn’t sure he was really looking for sunshine and roses either. “Been hearing rumors about magus killins’. Know anything about what’s happening?” Brow quirked, her lips leaving the rim of a now two time empty glass. Well that was a change of topic. Lingering drops were lifted from her upper lip as her tongue moved to capture the dark liquid. "Friends missin' in some of my normal travel stops." Side of her right index thoughtfully rubbed the front of her chin, the rest of the fingers lightly holding the rim of the empty glass. I've heard things…. not sure if tied to your missin' friends… Hand lowered the glass to the table once more, middle finger tapping its rim in askance for another refill before her arm folded over the other on the back of the chair. She seemed to be settling in for the night.. no where else to go with fangirls running the streets. ARMA gone to shit so Order showin' their dick more… goin' after deserters is what I hear….. She probably shouldn’t be sharing what she knew to outsiders but he wasn’t an outsider anymore… he was a member of the Family… at least he was to her. … and with Outworlder registration passed other side of the world… I have heard people been takin' matters into their own hands over here… killin' those they mark as Outworlder whether they are or not… Chin rested on her folded arms.. Too much of a meltin' pot here… so hear the activity is more in west federation and south coalition area…
  5. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    The Devil You Know

    Rorye's Loft above The Book of Kells 2am March 8th, 2022 Braedyn snorted a breath at her, the older of her two brothers outside the ring in the corner, arms draped over the ropes. Frayed bleach white towel over his shoulder had blood on it, hers. *npc* “C’mon Barra, you should’ve finished this git by now!” Term of endearment for her didn't hide he was impatient, and disappointed. Rorye pulled herself up for the umpteenth time from the mat and tried to find her footing. The strong, lithe form wobbled a bit but came to a resilient stance as her arms came back up. Gloves returned to their guard. Puffy eye hurt, the glance up toward the mirrored glass on the second floor overhang bringing another shake of Braedyn’s head. He ran his fingers through longer dark curls to pull them from his forehead while scanning the other rings and bustle in the gym. Though busy, the gym inhabitants were trying their damnest not to watch the "sparring" match. It was all the buzz, he could feel it. She felt the disappointment, knowing her father was watching from behind the office glass. Finding someone that trained at the gym ballsy enough to go toe-to-toe with the boss’ daughter was rare enough. Actually squaring one that would be willing to kick her ass in front of her father and Rottweiler brothers was a lucky shot. She’d begged him to find someone because she was ready and now when he finally agreed to it, she was getting her ass handed to her. Braedyn called time and waved her over to the corner. Chest heaving, footsteps were stable, expression a bit like a wounded puppy as she moved toward him. He took her mouthguard and gave her water, wiping her eye. She’d have a helluva shiner. *npc* “What the fuck is wrong with you? My sis is having an existential crisis about not kicking a man’s ass because wuh?” Her expression was sullen. *npc* “Is it him?” Braedyn’s dark eyes glanced incredulously at a young man her age near the lockers that was talking to a rather gorgeous blonde. Her brother Brae was born on the Isle, and New York had done nothing to stave the brogue her brothers had; especially the more annoyed they got. Right now it was thick as molasses, the sibling ten years her senior having none of the young man she was obviously crushing on and the girl she was obvious jealous of. School mates for sure, though the man he’d seen here often watching his sister. Brothers bristled at someone chaffing their baby sister’s pride. Braedyn grabbed her chin and turned her face to him. *npc* “Look’a me… iffin’ a man is intimidated by you, he don’t deserve to have you at his side.” She nodded, spitting out the water. He brushed the towel over her brow one more time and nodded back. *npc* “When we go back home to get things in order with mum, we need to know you’re good ‘till we come back. You gonna swoon on a Yankee he better be worthy.” Her eyes had wandered back to the young man, Michael. He’d taken notice, so had the blonde… Genna. Genna not so much of Rorye in the ring, but the fact Michael was no longer paying attention to her flirting. Rorye nodded to her brother and he gave her back her mouthguard. She hated that catty bitch. Useless trophy wife material interested in only his money. She'd made that abundantly clear in high school bathroom "girl meeting" bragging sessions. Returning to the center, squared off and stance together, the fight resumed. Several hard hits were taken, ribs hurt. Whether it was a lucky shot or skill was up for debate; the opening she took advantage of allowing for a brutal assault on her opponent. It wasn’t the ultimate perfect high school movie ending. It was bloody and hard won. Her opponent hit the ropes, lingering there for a moment before he fell and didn’t get up. Chest heaved, gloves felt too heavy to raise so the ref did it for her. Braedyn had come into the ring afterward, wet towel wiping her features. Her father had come down sometime during the end and taken perch in Braedyn’s former spot, as did her brother Callum. Both brothers had the same dark curls in varying lengths. Callum’s was pulled back into a short ponytail, Braedyn’s shorter. She had the look of her father, the expressive eyes and thick mahogany hair that hinted of red in the light. His now twinkled with silver at the temples and was almost always shorn in a high and tight. Intimidating just in stature, his muscled appearance demanded pure respect before he ever spoke a word. The man was a mountain with the heart of a lion. He rarely smiled, self-conscious perhaps about the scar his dimples would accentuate. Half of a Glasgow smile marred his face, able to have broken the men’s necks before they had finished the job. An old scar, it still bothered him. It was a testament to how strong he actually was. He didn’t see it that way. He rarely saw anything the way she did, but she still adored him anyway as daughters did. +++ Lashes fluttered a moment, remaining closed as her body woke up to join her consciousness. Warm, incredibly comfortable. Middle of the night. Living room was dim, fire still flickering in the hearth. Lamp behind her gave off a soft glow, enough to read by. She’d fallen asleep on the couch in her favorite t-shirt and boxers, drifting off with the picture being used as a bookmark in her hand; spurning the dream. Having gone back to the gym to view again what had been disturbed a week prior, the picture was the one thing she’d brought back. Leaning down slightly from her soft couch and blanket she picked up the picture and book that had fallen from her fingers in sleep. Book placed softly on the coffee table, she kept the picture. Expression thoughtful, though a bit melancholy, thumb slid over the faces captured in time. The four of them. She still had the shiner when it was taken. It was the last picture they took before the three of them left to settle her mother’s affairs. It was the last time they were all together. Fingertips wiped at the moisture on her lashes, stinging silent tears. Rorye didn’t cry, but a daughter did. She missed them. More now than ever. Vivid dreams could do that. Voices and faces that felt so real they could be touched, crushed sharply against the reality she could no longer just pick up the phone in the middle of the night when she was missing them. It would be early morning for them. They would be up. They always were. Looking at the back, she had written all their names and the date. Sighing, she dropped it on the coffee table and pulled the fluffy white comforter around her and settled back in to try and sleep. Contemplating seeing if anyone was home she could climb into bed next to, she finally decided against it. Tears brought concern. Concern brought explanations. Explanations sometimes just churned up more hurt. Eyes closed, long exhale to try and let it all go... hoping sleep that could wipe away the crushing loss felt in her chest wouldn't be fleeting.
  6. Josef Carroll Boudreaux

    Throw Me Sumthin' Mista

    Ya well… not really here on business at the moment anyway….. He couldn’t help but Cheshire slightly at her smirk. A twinkle of humor existed in her somewhere, just not enough when she needed it to soothe the soul. And of course, her question about home pulled his under. Just when he thought he could turn the freak weather event into a boon, it produced everything but. A final punctuation on his wanderlust that he should have had more self-restraint instead of going wherever the hell he wanted, whenever the hell he wanted. He could have helped somehow, saved his family if he'd just not been so selfish… maybe. Earth digger and some sonic radar would help ya still bring up more… Unaware his brows had come down in an uncharacteristic furl, they lightened a bit, glance to her with a sullen eye only to return to his task. “I am the radar... Would cost a fortune I no longer have to git all the other down there, and even them. It’s… part of the gulf now. Some areas, not so much. The good parts, take scuba gear a lick and a prayer that the gators won’t snipe your ass because the water so muddy dark you couldn’t see them coming. I can, most couldn’t.” With that was the secret of his ability to find the things he did, and not get snapped by a gator or anything else that might be lurking in the wild beyond the protection of renewing civilization. He could see things, clear as day. Couldn't get to them. They scratched at him like someone buried alive. Ya know… if ya really wanted to find more that is. Silence was well, quiet. Even the tinkering of his fingers seemed unusually soft as the heavy thought mulled. Eyes glanced up to catch the peek of her lashes. He fucking hated those glasses she wore, reaching to refill her glass on request and his own with it, twinkle of charms on glass. The rate he was putting it down would have rolled even the most savvy by now. His metabolism burned it off too quickly, and made him thirsty as hell. Putting the work down a moment, he got up and filled a glass from the work sink, downing it before he returned and began his incessant tinkering again. “Dunno.” Answer came finally, taking a longer than healthy drink from his glass. “World we knew ain’t coming back. Maybe time to stop pretending I can save mine.” Sigh was slow, a soft curse in his own slang as something didn’t go as expected. He put it down to keep from hurling it across the room, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms to watch the television. Pessimism felt odd coming from him. Maybe it was frustration, or defeatism. Something had obviously happened when he was away on one of his gallivants to bring on the change, or irritate him enough to reveal he actually did have a rather brooding and dark facet. It had been a long time since he was in such a funk… Order of Light history long. Getting up again, he stayed at the overly neat workbench a moment, pulling out tiny drawers to find the part he was looking for. “Been hearing rumors about magus killins’. Know anything about what’s happening?” Drawers kept moving quietly, the question related but full with something else on his mind. His trips were not just about wanderlust, he was still a wanted man. Magus dying were of great concern, especially people connected to him. "Friends missin' in some of my normal travel stops."
  7. Zeph

    Small Update

    Found a new server home for us at a third the cost so will be getting that set up soon. As noted above will likely take site down for a weekend to make the transfer - will be sure to give you a little warning. Gotten a few good PMs on rebranding ideas! Thanks for the input - keep them coming!
  8. Zeph

    Resolution affiliation

    Thanks for letting us know! - I am on my phone but as soon as I am home I will update your link!
  9. Guest

    Resolution affiliation

    Resolution has updated our button and would like to continue our affiliation. <a href="http://shadowsky.jcink.net/index.php?act=idx"_blank"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/fCneAfj.png" title="Resolution" alt="Resolution" /></a>
  10. Thomas Gallo

    Sheut Happens

    Tom didn’t like asking questions that revealed his ignorance. When it came to mages…Tom was out of his depth. Ahanu’s quirked eyebrow and neutral expression reinforced this feeling in Tom. If the legend of Tom Gallo was to be shattered…Tom knew it would come at the hands of a mage, or at least in their presence. This made his inevitable rendezvous with Jerry even more unsettling. Tom was gambling in a realm where he didn’t have the answers. He recruited the right people to help with that…so that part was hedged at least. It didn’t mean he felt any better about it though. Ahanu’s quick dismissal of his original idea reinforced his ignorance. This exhaled what amounted to a soft chuckle. Ahanu had spent considerable time with Eris…he could see her influence in Ahanu’s mannerisms. *npc* “Mana can sense mana too. If he’s true telekinetic, he’d push the walls out before I could do it.” Interesting. It made sense that mages could sense one another. Tom could pick out other weres based on scent a long time before he ever set eyes on them. Why not have a magicky way for mages to do the same? *npc* “But, I can move air so he can’t take a breath and objects so he couldn’t get hold of one. Think, small tornado,” she smiled lightly. “He might control an object, but I control the flow of air around it and could send it right back at him or rip it out of his control. Get him in here to chat, and I could. Distract him while I do it, and it’s an even better chance. Shoot at him or something,” she said plainly. “Knocking you out isn’t an option.” Tom rubbed his chin as he was thinking. So, she could move air specifically the same way that Jerry could move objects? Specialized, limited…but more potent maybe? He paused a moment when she mentioned that knocking Tom out wasn’t an option. A standing order perhaps? He and Eris needed to have a long talk once this night was over. Tom had a lot to do though…and less than a week to complete it before he had to go Upstate again. The moon was rarely convenient. *npc* “The bigger problem is none of Jerry’s goons were magus. He’s going to sniff me out in a second.” This seemed to agree with what she had said earlier. A lot hinged on how Jerry responded to surprise. Was he an arrogant blowhard who knew he was walking into a trap and simply believed it would never work against him? Was he the oblivious type who wouldn’t see it coming? Was he a flighty ghost of a person who fled at the first sign of trouble in order to preserve himself? This was a gamble. Tom only had one shot at making this work before it became much more messy. *npc* “He’ll definitely know both of us are here. Mouse can potentially disrupt the man’s telekinetic signal. Can’t stop him, just can make it so he can’t control it.” The light flickering cause him to glance up in the rafters to where the lights should be. Mouse. The reason this gathering of people was together today. Had she dived into any of the neighboring buildings during the night of the Blood Moon, Eris and Tom would have never met. Tom supposed he owed her something…not sure what yet. But something. Based on what Ahanu was telling Tom, it seemed as if Jerry’s powers could be dealt with if they worked together. If he were busy contesting with mages, maybe he wouldn’t see the blunt end of an axe coming to meet the side of his head. Tom nodded thoughtfully as Mouse’s talents were brought to light. *npc* “I can try to knead out his curiosity and confidence when he first gets here too.” Roderick offered. “If he’s half as dangerous as Ahanu claims, then keeping him from getting erratic would be recommended.” Roderick paused a moment, “You know that means…” Tom nodded, cutting Roderick off. “…that I’m on my own.” Roderick would not be able to influence the moods of Jerry and Tom at the same time. Controlling Jerry was more important than controlling Tom at this particular moment. It was another risk. If Jerry deliberately tried to provoke Tom…it was likely to work. The moon was rarely convenient. A plan was forming in his mind. He couldn’t hide the mages, Ahanu made that clear. So they had to be advertised. Ahanu up front with the outer guards when Jerry rolls up. Tom wanted to set an ambush…but the more he thought about it, the more dangerous it seemed it would be…to his crew. If Jerry was powerful enough, a lot of people could die that didn’t need to. If, however, Jerry rolled up to a warehouse and a pair of guards were out front with Ahanu close by…she could protect them from any surprise assault…Mouse could be inside. Tom wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince her to operate out in the open. The thoughts and details were filling themselves in his mind even as he spoke. “The perimeter guards and scouts can stay where they are. They will switch from sentries to containment once Jerry gets to the front door. At the front I want two guards plus Ahanu.” Tom looked Ahanu in the eyes and just as he could see the quiet determination behind her eyes, she too would see the steely resolve and furnace burning behind his. “Ahanu, since I can’t hide you, we might as well present you. That will be the most shocking surprise that he is most likely to react violently to. Once the shock of his warehouse being compromised wears off, you can invite him, and whomever he wishes to bring with him into the warehouse. Allowing him to bring his goons will increase his confidence and sense of security…lowering his guard somewhat. Roderick, this is where you come in.” Tom switched his gaze to Roderick. “He undoubtedly knows who you are. So, meeting you here will hardly seem surprising after he realizes his warehouse is mine now.” Tom paused. Thinking. Yes, this seemed like the best tactic. “Once you have eyes on him, you can assess if he needs soothed or not. Once you are satisfied, you can bring him to me here.” Tom had waved toward the office he had been standing in earlier. Tom had entertained a few different paths forward with this introduction. Until now, Jerry and whomever he worked for believed they had the upper hand on Tom. Truth be told, they did. Tom had briefly considered letting Jerry believe that longer and use his ego to reveal truths that would otherwise be hidden. Tom dismissed that idea quickly after he heard his voice come out the other end of the phone when Butch called him. No. Tom made a read of the man then. Tom was banking on that reading being correct. If Tom miscalculated, this could go very poorly. He had to be right. “Jerry’s confidence comes from his perceived control. His hot-headed anger at the first hint of things not going to plan revealed that about him. He’s coming expecting a fight. We need to communicate to him, once inside, that he has already lost.” Tom’s face softened slightly as he looked at Roderick. Roderick’s face sank noticeably. He knew what he had to do, and didn’t like it. He always felt a bit of the emotions he was trying to make others feel. This lead to good times when he was trying to sweeten a person’s mood…the opposite is true the other way as well. Tom was asking him to bring despair to Jerry. It would take a toll on Roderick. Roderick looked down and took a deep, steadying breath. He looked up at Tom’s face with steely determination and nodded solemnly. He knew what had to be done and accepted it. Tom knew in his heart that he was the only person Roderick would do this for. He would never be able to repay him enough for this. Tom hated himself for it. Growling slightly, he held up a hand to stop Roderick. He no doubt felt what Tom was feeling and instinctively moved to dampen it. He had to save his strength. Tom would be fine. This would have been much easier two weeks ago. The moon was rarely convenient. “Mouse, wherever she is now, will need to reveal herself. I can’t have Jerry spooked because he counts one less mage than he can see. I would have her sit in the office with me, but will not force that upon her if she so chooses.” Tom paused and looked sternly at Ahanu. “But, as you said, she’ll be noticed. If she can’t be seen, then she can’t be present. I’ll leave that decision to you. Either she is here and visible, or she is out.” Nothing about that last sentence was a question, suggestion, or anything other than a command. Tom knew Ahanu was not his to command, but if she was to remain, then she had to cooperate. This was the Tom Gallo that rumors spoke of. The reputation he had earned painted this picture of him. Authoritative strategist who was ruthless in operation. Tom expected Ahanu would have an objection, but his countenance communicated plainly that the objection was unwelcome. Only the decision of the choices offered by Tom. Anything else was unacceptable. “Inside the office will be myself, Jerry, a single person he might choose to bring in with him, and either Mouse, Ahanu, or no one.” Tom continued. “He won’t step willingly into a trap where he doesn’t have at least the illusion of parity. Even if he knows he is likely done. His pride won’t allow it. So, either I operate at a deficit or at perceived equity.” All of that setup was to paint the picture that Jerry’s operation was over. Tom sitting comfortably in an office that was believed to be Jerry’s less than an hour ago would deal a crushing blow to his confidence about the operation. If this was shut down so totally, what about the rest? This was the ambush he had to set. Worst case, only the small number of people in the office would get hurt before the rest of the troops outside contained the danger. If Tom was one of them, so be it. “From here we will learn how smart Jerry is. If he has a head on his shoulders, he’ll realize he is done. Finished.” Unless there is something that Tom hadn’t planned for. This was possible…but he didn’t have time to think through all possibilities. “He’ll either submit in an attempt to save his own skin…or lash out in a desperate attempt to escape.” Tom glanced briefly at Roderick before continuing, “If we all do our jobs, that shouldn’t happen. Either way, Jerry doesn’t leave here on his own terms.” That last sentence was delivered in a tone as cold as the grave. Not even the least-trusting person would suggest he was bluffing now. The most skilled manipulator would know that changing his mind was impossible now. This ended now.
  11. Eris London

    Sheut Happens

    Very few things made her move like a bat out of hell. Those she protected being in danger was at the top of that list. Holding herself together until she reached home base was the ultimate challenge. Crashing the party weak and half-cocked would benefit no one, but it would give an excuse for the violence she was about to unleash. Not that she needed one. The weather didn't make for great “bat out of hell” driving. She knew she could move faster on foot as the crow flew, pulling into a dimly lit parking garage and backing into a space. Trunk was popped, another reason she wanted to stay with the car as long as possible. The floor of the trunk clicked open, a cornucopia of items she knew she needed in any situation readied for last ditch states of affairs. A scenario didn’t exist that she didn’t have a plan for. Discarding clothes that were too big and rightfully chaffing in everywhere they shouldn’t, she tossed them in a corner of the trunk one by one as they were replaced with slick tactical gear. Fashionable, of course. Much less stiff than what she’d been wearing earlier. Basic gear always was, this was formulated for her to be able to move between known and unknown and not be noticed either way. Ready for a fight, still suitable to walk through a crowd without alarm. Weapons snapped into place, a pair of breakaway Asps on her thighs just under the longer coat. Hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail, the entire change taking merely moments before the trunk slammed shut and she was on the move. She was going to burn that shit when they got back to her compound and scrub her skin raw in a shower. The Were owed her one for that. +++ “You said you are an Air Magus. How much air can you move, and how quickly?” The arched brow was neutral, still not amused. This was a place Ahanu was pretty sure she didn’t want to go; definitely not because she was concerned with Gallo’s safety. Her primary concern was her boss, and the fact she’d been told to stay put when she knew London was off on her own doing something she should have back up for. The woman didn’t share much with the air magus lately, and she’d begun wondering just who this Were was and where he fell in the Viceroy’s bigger plans. Her quirked, deadpan expression may have betrayed her thoughts, she didn’t care about that either. His opinion of her wasn’t a worry she entertained. She moved with him, watching the gears turn in his head. Answering was pointless until she knew what the parameters were. “Could you turn that room into a vacuum? If two men entered, could you suck the air out of the room fast enough that they could pass out?” *npc* “People don’t pass out right away,” she said quietly. “The room isn’t built for it… walls would implode before that happened.” His idea did have merit though. *npc* “Mana can sense mana too. If he’s true telekinetic, he’d push the walls out before I could do it.” Realistically however, the air magus was as close to telekinetic as one who wasn’t got. *npc* “But, I can move air so he can’t take a breath and objects so he couldn’t get hold of one. Think, small tornado,” she smiled lightly. “He might control an object, but I control the flow of air around it and could send it right back at him or rip it out of his control.” Tug of war, in hopes he wasn’t as strong as she was. *npc* “Get him in here to chat, and I could. Distract him while I do it, and it’s an even better chance. Shoot at him or something,” she said plainly. “Knocking you out isn’t an option.” She smiled slightly. Because the Viceroy would have her head. *npc* “The bigger problem is none of Jerry’s goons were magus. He’s going to sniff me out in a second.” Lights flickered a moment, the magus barely blinking. The lights were a silent signal of some kind. Mouse was in the house; the off the grid member of the petite Sheut’s team that had been the starting point for the partner-up with the Were some time ago. The woman had already no doubt slipped in undetected. She was like an eavesdropper from hell, able to hear and disrupt communication, and even tell electronics what to do. Mouse could potentially disrupt Jerry’s power, not destroy or negate it, just make it go haywire. They were going to find out soon. *npc* “He’ll definitely know both of us are here. Mouse can potentially disrupt the man’s telekinetic signal. Can’t stop him, just can make it so he can’t control it.” Every instinct told her they should go, Jerry would know they were there. Eris told them to stay, meaning they were there to protect Gallo and his holdings. The Sheut had some fucking explaining to do. *npc* “I can take him down if Mouse can frag his signal. Hard part is getting him in here once he knows we’re here. Though, if he’s as much as a pompous jackhole as he seems, that might not be the problem.”
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  13. I'm here! Just getting caught up on sleep from the crazy job last weekend... posts and some random writing-to-writes are almost done :)

  14. Zeph

    Small Update

    Hey everyone. As some know I have been away a bit this year due to unforeseen personal reasons. But I am back now and looking to get us revved up once more. Couple things coming soon. The dedicated server we sit on is pricey and difficult to work with. They dont update to the latest software timely which then holds up the upgrades to the board software - so look for us to be moving to a different server soon (site will likely go down for maintenance for a weekend to make this happen). Also - have been considering a refresh of not just the look of the site, but the branding as well - nothing drastic (not fundamentally changing the world or anything just give us a fresh start this year. I welcome any thoughts you have on what a minor refresh might look like. PM me with any suggestions thoughts. I will likely post concepts for feedback as we get closer. Lastly - we havent inactivated characters that have not logged on in a significant amount of time since the beginning of the year. I will hold off doing so for another couple weeks but if you have charries you dont want inactivated be sure to login with them in the next two weeks. Thats about it for now - look for more info coming soon as I work through some loose ends and catch up with everyone. Thanks for your patience! ~Zeph
  15. Derrick Mason Gray

    Throw Me Sumthin' Mista

    "Wouldn't be an honest businessman iffin I didn't be forthright, That's how people get themselves perished." Ya well… not really here on business at the moment anyway….. A faint smirk was welcomed with a deep warm chuckle. That damn sound just washed over her ears, haunted by that melodic accent of his. Fuck she could listen to that forever. The corner of her lips pulled further upward at the thought only to fall a bit as he lingered on the "girl", that bristle up her spine again annoying her for a reason that eluded her. "She's havin' some troubles, thought I'd at least try to make her smile before I decide whether or not to finally drop anchor. Not much left home anymore, so maybe build this up a bit. Get a permanent place." The conversation turned to business and her shoulders relaxed into the chair, leaning forward on the back as she drank from her now half empty glass. The sound of his hands polishing the metal soothed with their rhythmic patterns while she spoke of the stadium security and their issues. "Sounds like a party." She didn’t miss the flat tone. The games were not everyone's cup of tea but it was hard to dismiss the revenue they brought to the east coast. To some… Liquor drained too quickly from her glass as she asked if the metal came from his home territory. The answer was not unexpected, the melancholy that tainted the answer was. "Place been underwater for ten years. Hard to get to, slowly disappearing every time I go back like a hurricane battered pier. Knew when the freeze came I'd have a chance to git places I hadn't before. Hard to orient myself, trees gone, stone foundation underwater. Was able to find these close enough to the surface to dig out." A faint nod affirmed her understanding. As far as she knew, any home she had ever had no longer stood. The difference was for her, she had no desire to walk down that nostalgia lane. Most homes she had been in had been unhappy ones. She had only finally felt comfortable in the homes she had made for herself since the fall. "These were mine. Well, my family's anyway." She held her tongue, a deep wistfulness in his voice that said the moment didn’t need a response from her. Head tilted slightly at the sound of charms hitting the glass he reached for….sounds that relaxed her shoulders and left her toe lifting and lowering silently to the floor in time with a melody only she heard. "Spent so long not wanting any of it, now can't seem to stop looking." She understood… playing music for her was a different but similar truth. For years after the fall she loathed music, her instruments lying dormant, her idols all gone, actively avoiding exposure to music of any kind. Now…… she couldn’t help herself. As she listened to him pour himself another glass, hers tapped lightly on the table in askance of one of her own. "It's all gone now. No more trips gonna bring anything back." Shrug was a bit thoughtful as her fingers circled the rim of her glass. Earth digger and some sonic radar would help ya still bring up more… Chin rested on her left forearm as it lay across the back of the chair. Ya know… if ya really wanted to find more that is. There was something oddly intriguing at the thought of exploring with him the home of the original angels, to breathe the air and earth that saturated him. Fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, dark shades lifting to expose the thick unpainted lashes that fluttered low against her cheeks. The dull headache of a night spent running from fans was lingering despite the good liquor. Finger tapped her rim again in askance for a second pour.
  16. Josef Carroll Boudreaux

    Throw Me Sumthin' Mista

    Brow quirked at the predicted sigh. She was always sullen about something or another. So much passion for life, so much annoyance about having it. Needed to loosen up. "When has cost ever been a deterrent for a request I have made." His expresion mirrored hers. "Wouldn't be an honest businessman iffin I didn't be forthright," he answered. Smirk was deep, the chuckle as warm as was making the metal he polished. "Sneaky is how people people get themselves perished." The room's energy changed as he spoke about his plans to stay and maybe spend some time with someone, unconscious flick of his wrist to shift the corded trinkets that would tangle every so often. He'd put a drop in that ocean and it'd come up ripples. He took note of it. "She's havin' some troubles, thought I'd at least try to make her smile before I decide whether or not to finally drop anchor. Not much left home anymore, so maybe build this up a bit. Get a permanent place." Finishing up the polish, he switched gears, slight smile when she decided to follow the booze and park herself. He talked business. She always seemed comfortable with business. "…Fort Knox for all the VIP viewing areas… rest built to survive a bomb blast.. biggest issue for security is the high number of high level altered that gather at the events." His tinkering with the dueling pistols was intricate, unsure if he could save them. They were an absolute treasure find, and most likely the last. "… crowd drinks… gets riled up watchin' the fight… gets rowdy.. leavin' security on a knifes edge to keep them in line without startin' something unnecessary themselves." "Sounds like a party," he said, tone flat. Never understood it. The aggression part of it anyway. It was part of why he bailed on the Order. Everybody always wanted to fucking fight. "Something from around your angels?..." He was quiet; the Cajun always with an undercurrent of melancholy but rolled with the charm and turned it always to a boon. This though, was different. "Oui." Eyes moved to the television, then back to the pistol he was trying to disassemble. "Place been underwater for ten years. Hard to get to, slowly disappearing every time I go back like a hurricane battered pier. Knew when the freeze came I'd have a chance to git places I hadn't before." He wasn't just talking about his precious city, he was talking about his home. His family home. "Hard to orient myself, trees gone, stone foundation underwater. Was able to find these close enough to the surface to dig out." His abilities did make for useful hunting. They were also torturous, knowing something was under your feet and having no way to get to it as the earth reclaimed and swallowed it whole. "These were mine. Well, my family's anyway." He took a drink, charms twinkling on the glass. "Spent so long not wanting any of it, now can't seem to stop looking for what I left behind." He finished the glass, pouring another. "It's all gone now. No more trips gonna bring anything back." He kept tinkering, the easy silence comfortable.
  17. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Walk It Off

    A shock wave scorched up her leg from the collision as he brought up his knee, only feeding the volatility behind it. Her moves felt choreographed in her mind, predictive. Déjà vu. A fight that had happened a thousand times before, life or certain death. Muscles knew what to do and were aching to do it, to release, to completely tear into the ability to cut loose; stretching from a long forgotten slumber. Contact with her jaw produced a bright flash of light in her psyche; inaudible snarl rushing through her core. It flipped a switch. The steps backward weren’t a retreat, they were a warning. A pause. Her regained stance to continue had no trained form, it simply was ready to fight. Hands at her sides, the obstinate posture of a warrior was obviously afraid of nothing and willing to do anything to win. The hits that followed were aggressive and meant to hurt. Sharp growl of frustration followed as her arm was locked, tension of her muscles contemplating pushing the limit of the restraint and risking injury to break free. Push against his hold was hostile, heated, livid for being ensnared. Dark glare was dangerous, the hatred of being trapped forcing what was left of Rorye’s composure to hang by a thread. It was evident someone else was also staring back at him; normally dark eyes had become a haunting hazel hue. Next move to untangle herself from his arm lock was a blitz of pure skill, agility, a muscle memory followed up quickly with violence that found its mark and then came to a halt when he regained his stance and called for time. “Hold up, You caught me pretty solid on that one.” Chest was pulling in measured breaths, almost too long in between. She’d turned from him slightly, pulling back to avoid moving forward. Even in profile, one could see her eyes were closed, hands in fists at her sides. She was listening, to everything. His position, his breathing, the weight of his step when he moved. The fighter before had turned into a predator in the now. It was a battle of wits. She wanted nothing more than to go after the blades that were on the bench. He was a foe. An aggressor. He was hurting, and instinct was to strike until he didn’t get back up. Breath oozed out slowly and she was motionless for a long moment. Control. She had it under control. “Alright, I’m good. It’s a good thing you kick like a girl.” Eyes opened slightly, brows quirking in acknowledgment of his smartass comment. She was starting to realize she had lifelines to pull her out. Her own effort could pull her out of a spin, focus. Pain was another way, but it also made it worse sometimes. Voices, recognition. Emotion. Humor. His damn blue devils. Light smile lit up her features. It still slithered in her thoughts, more so than the scrape with Chris. She reached to pull off the gray tee shirt. Beneath was just a black cropped compression shirt, leaving her stomach exposed and most of her shoulders. Inky blue had blossomed just under the surface of her skin, defined in distinct patterns. Across her stomach, ribs, back, arms, everywhere except her chest, hands and face. What first had looked like darkness seeping through her veins when he’d first observed it the day before was now very much a faint tattooed pattern. Intricate. Definitely the shadow of her trapped "beast". She wanted to say it wasn’t a good idea to keep going. Swallow was hard, fingers balling up the shirt to toss it toward her bench. Instead… “I have it under control,” fist was bumped and she regained her normal stance. Truth was, she wasn’t really sure what would happen if they kept going. She was certain he was holding out on her, but couldn’t promise if she lost control and he decided to put her down hard she wouldn’t struggle against it. It could injure both of them. This was exactly why she hadn’t gotten help before. Training. She’d hurt people trying. Nobody could move fast enough to stop her. She wanted to explain what it felt like, what was running through her head, the feeling of knowing what to do without thinking... Brows frowned and she put her hands down, hand up to let him give her a moment. She paced quietly at the ropes with her hands on her hips. Neck was stretched to one side then the other. She had to trust him. She had to trust him... “I might not for long. I don’t know where the edge is,” words were quiet, but she’d said her peace. Okay. Fingers rubbed her eyes and she resumed her stance, nodding once. What happened next could only be described as a blitz. Brutal, going for the one fraction of a second when there was an opening she could exploit. Intense, though showing signs of fray. She was fighting with herself. Trying to keep control, while trying to let go at the same time. The two sides were circling each other, fighting for dominance, and with it came anger and frustration. Mistakes, and fury. This, was not going to end well.
  18. Thomas Gallo

    Sheut Happens

    Tom could clearly hear the string of profanity spewing from the phone after Butch performed. Tom smiled slightly as he listened. Butch did well. Roderick helped him along with some minute emotional tweaking, but he was confident that Jerry would have bought it regardless. Based on the stream of profanity coming over the phone, it appeared that he was emotional…irrational. Tom could use this. Tom was all too familiar with the war of emotions vs. reason; however Tom deliberately waged that war on behalf of reason against the emotional beast. Jerry, Tom suspected, did not. Jerry hung up the phone before Butch could respond. He must be on his way then. It was time to go. Most of the crew that cleaned up had left by now. Tom kept about ten men or so back for when Jerry arrived with…whoever else may come. Tom turned to Tex and said, “It’s time to get Butch out of here.” Tex nodded and said, “Come on, kid. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” Wordlessly, Butch followed with a thankful nod towards Tom as he left. Tom was still a bit apprehensive…he couldn’t shake it…but maybe he was just being overly pessimistic. It was easy to do these days. Ahanu suddenly had a phone in her ear saying, “Got it.” And hung up. Looking to Tom she was all business. “Jerry will be here in twenty. Shipments were supposed to be held until morning. There are three other sites. Eris suspects they are testing to see if you are on to them.” Ahanu hesitated slightly, perhaps in apprehension about how Tom would react to the next bit. “She thinks their endgame is you.” Tom kept his face neutral. Inside, his head was roiling with conflicting emotions, feelings, thoughts. He suspected that this was a feeling out of some sort. It still wasn’t clear how ambitious the goal was. Did Bakkhos finally have a rival willing to contest them openly? If they could take down the Prize Fighter Figurehead…what next? Tom was trying to keep this problem isolated under his purview for the moment…but maybe he’d have to bring in the other Capos to demonstrate that Bakkhos, while compartmented, is not a union of separate enterprises. No. Bakkhos was a family…in every sense of the word. This was a unique challenge. His authority had been challenged before by would-be usurpers. Tom always came out on top. This felt different. This was different. Tom sat silently for a minute, thinking. Planning. Then Ahanu answered her phone again. Tom tuned in to the words coming out of the phone this time. A telekinetic? He’d heard of them. Horror stories of beating beaten up by invisible hands. Action without the equal and opposite reaction. Tom growled again. Either Jerry was the top of this…or someone was able to employ telekinetic lieutenants. Absently spinning the ring on his finger, a plan began to form. It was a gamble, everything was lately, but it might just work. He had to know more first. Now. After Ahanu had called Mouse to come to the warehouse, Tom asked, “You said you are an Air Magus. How much air can you move, and how quickly?” Tom started to stroll toward a small office off to one side and motioned the others to follow. It was a windowless room to the exterior. There was one big window facing the interior of the warehouse and one on the door. There was a fairly nondescript desk with a pair of generic chairs on one side and a higher-end office chair on the other side. This room should work, assuming Ahanu could do what he hoped. “Could you turn that room into a vacuum? If two men entered, could you suck the air out of the room fast enough that they could pass out?” Tom knew he couldn’t exchange blows with Jerry. Jerry would never let him get that close. That was the mistake the blaster made in Satyr Stadium a while back. He let the brute touch him. Jerry wouldn’t allow that to occur. If Tom was the target, specifically Tom and not Thyrsus, then Jerry was chosen specifically for that reason. Tom had to get Jerry to let his guard down. If Jerry was indeed subordinate to someone…then Jerry was likely kept on a short leash…especially where his powers were concerned. Killing Tom Gallo in some obscure warehouse was not the headline-grabbing shock to the system this cabal was after. It was Gallo’s reputation they were after, not necessarily his blood. Regardless, Jerry would protect himself from attack. So it was up to Tom to make sure Jerry believed he wouldn’t be attacked. If he could lure Jerry into the room to chat, Tom could get him talking. Not with any hope of learning intel…that would come later. Instead, he just needed Jerry and himself in the room with the door closed. Ahanu would do the rest…sucking the air out of the room until both Tom and Jerry collapsed. It wasn’t a guarantee…and Tom was reasonably certain that Jerry wouldn’t even enter the room. Tom was banking on his reputation as a businessman and Capo to outweigh his reputation as a prize-fighter. It really was a toss-up. Tom strolled into the room and nodded as he noticed that this office was nothing special. A small-time office with folders, paperwork, a file cabinet, and other sundry office items. It shouldn’t appear threatening to anyone. Especially since Tom would offer his back to the man by entering the room first. Tom was sure he could withstand an assault of some kind…but only for so long. This had to work.
  19. Derrick Mason Gray

    Throw Me Sumthin' Mista

    "It’s a part of what you get cher.." Chest rose and fell with the barest sigh. He wasn’t saying anything she didn’t know. She loved the electricity of a crowd that orgasmically thrummed with the heat of excitement at the vibration of a finger-fucked guitar. It resonated off her skin with an intensity that drove her to her own frantic exhaustion. But everything else that came with that exhilaration, the oppressive fans, the lost anonymity.. these things she loathed. It was why she had let the persona die after the fall. Damn Gaspari for pulling it once more from the shadows. Silence lingered with an odd comfort, how easily it came again between them. The fib on how often she had checked his place rolled from her tongue as she "watched" the fight, it was progressing as expected, both were too aggressive and it would come down to luck as both began to tire. “Ya wanna fill orders, gotta keep the heat off. Suppose I could make slush stock in case I gotta jet. That cost ya though.” Shades slid to glance over her shoulder at him, brow lifting slightly over the dark rim. When has cost ever been a deterrent for a request I have made. On business she spent Bakkhos money not her own, and those pockets ran far deeper than her own. He was well aware of that. Stickin' for a while? “For now., Like I said, got a gal. Might stick for a bit n’see where that goes.” That hostile shudder ran up her spine once more. It was a unique sensation that left a confused pit in her gut. What the hell should she care if he had a "gal"…. right? Ears itched at the clicks behind her, the barely audible noises unmistakably betraying the sealing of several locks as she glanced towards the door before moving to him with a quirked brow once more. Liquor tantalized her nostrils as he came from behind the counter, liquor and wet earth. Not the delectable scent of him but more of molding swamp. Something on the table had been dug up from somewhere rancidly wet. Two glasses were poured. Shades moved to the door a last time. Share a drink… or brave the schizoids that might still be lingering nearby. It wasn’t really much of a decision. Strap slid from her shoulder as she pulled it over her head and gently set the case propped against the counter. There were only a few things she treated as "prized", her guitars made up most those things. As his weight shifted downward she took a step that struck the ground with the barest increase of force, vibrations reverberating back to her confirming the table and chairs were where she suspected. Long fingers brushed forward a hair earlier than most would to grab the back of the chair, ensuring she didn’t miss its location. The skill with which she navigated the world kept her secret safe in nearly all company… nearly. Chair slid around to face away from the table as a long leg straddled the back, weight sinking silently into its seat. Nostrils flared to pinpoint the glass, hand sweeping from the right to cup the side as she lifted it. “Tell me about this place, need anything special for the security?” Shoulders almost imperceptibly shrugged as the rim came to her lips, pausing… …Fort Knox for all the VIP viewing areas… rest built to survive a bomb blast.. biggest issue for security is the high number of high level altered that gather at the events. Lips parted.. the Absolut Black Russians she had been pounding at the Fat Cat heavily tainting her warm breath before it became blended with the liquid that thickly moved in her offered glass. Left arm bent to rest across the back of the chair as the right gently dangled the glass from her fingertips. … crowd drinks… gets riled up watchin' the fight… gets rowdy.. leavin' security on a knifes edge to keep them in line without startin' something unnecessary themselves. Glass lifted again, nursing anything stronger than coffee just wasn’t her style as she took another full drain on the glass, listening to his hands work. Metal… there was metal with the scent of rank mud. Chin lifted slightly in the direction of what he was working on. Something from around your angels?... Below the offensive rank was the same earthen scent that seemed to define him and where he was from.
  20. Sheepishly peeks back in...

    1. Rorye Shannon-Kearney
    2. Zeph


      snugs trying to get caught up on threads

  21. Ryan Harker

    Cold night in hell...

    As Harker crossed the threshold to enter the warehouse, he sensed something to in the shadows to his right. Pistol was aimed at the girl in an instant, then a sigh of relief before he lowered his weapon. “Oh, it’s you…” “How did she slip her cuffs?” the agent thought privately. “Ashley,” or whatever her true name was, stood frozen in place. Her stare seemed to gaze beyond the hunter, a pleading expression in her glowing eyes. “Please move. Look, I had no idea what was happening here, okay? I was supposed to come pick something up. That was it. I don’t even know what. This...thing. The bodies, the monsters, I don’t know anything about that.” Ryan remained silent a moment, contemplating the girl’s involvement in the situation and the other involved factions. ARMA, the Sheut, the Order, and whoever else might have a hand in this plot. “Look, you can put a bullet in me if you want, but if you don’t I’m getting out of here.” Ashley probably intended to sound defiant, but her resolve was clearly half-hearted. Metallic “click” from the hammer of the hunter’s Sig Sauer halted the girl before she had really even begun to move. “Don’t tempt me,” he growled. “You’re not in a position to dictate anything to me girl,” Ryan continued in a most irritable tone. “ARMA reinforcements are already enroute. If you’re still here when they arrive, chances are you’ll be arrested for whatever outstanding warrants you have. Additionally, you’ll be charged with any crimes your deemed to be involved with here.” The agent paused for a moment, “I’ll go out on a limb and say you’re an unregistered meta, which means you’ll have an enhancement added to the sentence of each crime you’ve committed… You will be in Alcatraz for the rest of your life.” Harker didn’t particularly enjoy being so callous, but they hadn’t the luxury of time. He needed to get his point across quickly, “Of course, that won’t be very long. Because the people who sent that monster, will have you killed before you ever have a chance to testify in open court. Just the mention of you in an ARMA investigative report would pretty much ensure your death.” Cold, hard, blue eyes fixed themselves onto the girl’s glowing hues. “So, you have two options. Answer my questions honestly and I’ll let you leave this place. None of those bad things will happen to you, and you can go on living your life. Or, you can refuse to answer my question, I’ll keep you here, and I promise you all of those things will come to pass.” “I suppose you could try and run.” The hunter glanced away from the girl for a moment, the idea was not one he relished. “But, then I would hurt you. And even if by some miracle you got away. I would just have my people scoop you up. You wouldn’t even make it a mile down the road. Not in this blizzard.” Ryan knew the “choice” he had offered Ashley wasn’t a choice at all. She would comply, or her circumstances would go from desperate, to dire. “Now, I need to know… specifically… Who sent you? What did they send you to retrieve? And how can I find you if I need more information?” “The clock’s ticking,” the operative added darkly. “Oh, and if you lie to me… I’ll know.” Muzzle of his pistol was waved lightly, before settling to aim at the girl’s leg. “And I’ll put a bullet in your fucking knee cap.” Fear was a powerful tool. Harker hoped it would help motivate the girl to make a good decision. Because whether he liked it or not… he wasn’t bluffing.
  22. Eris London

    Shall We Play a Game?

    “The vampire... the Sheut Ka- -it wasn’t like you. It was...unfinished? Younger maybe? “ Eyes narrowed slightly. She didn’t know the rogue, so it would make sense he was new. The woman could see things others could not, and could also recognize one of her own in varying stages of strength it seemed. “It’d probably be better if I started by telling you what I can do. You probably figured out my eyes aren’t exactly normal. I can’t see anymore. Not like you. Not like anyone. Most of the time things are...dull. Faded. Most of it’s just shades of grey. Makes it hard to make sense of things sometimes. A lot of the time.” She listened with keen interest; motionless as she studied her, contemplating her words. “I’m not sure what to call what I see. Mana? Life?Aura? ARMA or the Order could probably tell you. Sometimes it’s just there, pouring out of the hole in the sky. Usually I see it in people. Everyone actually. It’s stronger with some people. Usually Magi, or gifted like me, other things that aren’t from here.” The discomfort was noted, eyes unflinching as the apartment owner stared back at her. Normally completely at ease with eye contact, she had the distinct feeling that wasn’t what was happening. The eyes that looked at her were seeing something completely beyond the Sheut's senses to detect. “Your aura looks bloody. It pulses, like a heartbeat. I can smell it from here. The guy we encountered didn’t look alive to me. He was grey. Except his veins. They gave off the same color as you’re aura. They pulsed just like your aura, but he smelled different. Like death, and fear. My best guess is he hadn’t been Sheut-Ka long. A guess is all it is though. I’d never seen him before so that’s all I’ve got for you. I know even less about the other guy.” Her guess was correct, the ability fascinating. As the discussion switched to the hunter, it was apparent the man terrified her. She could hear her pulse change; smell the scent of blood when it ran hotter and closer under the skin. It was that fear and adrenaline that some vampires got off on when they hunted. Personally she thought the practice a bit vulgar. Food, was food. To torture someone to get the rush was just so… newbie, and complete bullshit. Sparkly vampire bullshit. “Pretty much all I can tell you about him is he’s gifted and he’s with ARMA. That’s all I can tell you because I can’t see him. At all. “ That, was invaluable information. She knew he was gifted, and with ARMA. The other part, gave her exactly what she needed to know. He was fast, he was trained, enough to have killed a Sheut. The fact this woman couldn’t see him meant a lot of things, and when she separated all those minute details one by one with her extensive mental repertoire it boiled down to very few conclusions. She knew how to kill him, in several ways, if the need ever arose. “Everyone can be killed,” she said quietly, hands still folded. "There is no reason to be afraid of anyone." This was most definitely worth her time to have come here. She’d considered it might be a dead end… but her hunches were almost always fruitful. It was evident now that the viceroy could hear her heartbeat, smell her fear when she spoke of the vampire and the hunter. “You just need to know how to kill them. For Sheut, you stab us in the chest,” she had no hesitation telling her how to take care of a Sheut. Most were never fast enough to make it happen anyway, but those that already knew they existed could help get rid of rogue problems so she would never have to bother dealing with them. “Then you cut off their head. For the other, you contact me and I would be happy to take him off your hands..” She wasn’t sure how a phone worked if you couldn’t see it. Mouse would find her as enthralling as the petite viceroy did. The corner of her lip curled upward at the woman’s display of ability, and the fact she was finally seeming to relax. “You’ve already seen my best trick. Or part of it anyway.” As the bottle was slid across the table to her, eyes were still on the woman. “That’s a fascinating ability you have there,” she leaned forward with an oiled grace, picking up the cup to run her fingers over it before pouring herself a drink. Not her favorite, and she had an aversion to touching anything someone else had handled, but it would be rude to refuse. She didn’t give a shit about being seen as rude at any time, to anyone. This exchange however was important, so she appreciated the hospitality. She savored the taste a moment. “Now, I’m interested in you. What do you do,” she asked quietly. “Other than stash pills in coffee cups, drink and occasionally find yourself at the fang end of a Sheut?” It was absolutely not condescending, it was curious as if she had something waiting in the wings to offer her. She did. The woman seemed snarled, bogged down with so many uncertainties that the sense of helplessness emanated from her. So complex, so many more strands at work than she could entangle in one evening. But, she had an ability that she was immensely interested in. It seemed like nobody else was seeing the potential, and she wanted it in her corner. She just had to find if she had any ties to anyone she could cut, and she would use every resource possible to make that happen.
  23. Eris London

    Sheut Happens

    Gallo’s smile stuck with her as she left the building and made her way to the car where her adventure waited. Sincerity. It irritated her. Hell, the whole world was irritating her at the moment. Eris London didn’t get involved. She didn’t make friends, and she sure as hell didn’t share private moments. That was the second damn time it had happened with the Were. Damn it. She gave orders, and her orders were followed or consequences were swift and unforgiving. To expand her circle meant trust, to trust meant building relationships. Building relationships meant letting people see things she didn’t want them to see. Break the illusion that she was impenetrable. Unshakable. Fuck Calloway. She couldn’t let loose on anyone else at the moment, so Calloway was the only person she could rightfully curse silently for making her expand her “collegial” relationships. Hand smacked the side of the car door where the two were housed. Whether or not Jerry would have done such a thing was secondary, it satiated her irascibility for that moment and got their attention. They were excited as she jingled the keys and opened the door, slicing the zip ties with a box cutter that had conveniently –and logically- been in the rear pants pocket. She tossed the keys at one, who jumped into the driver’s seat, the other stayed in the back as she rode shot gun. Pulling Trevor’s phone out, she motioned for the driver to hurry up and figure out the unfamiliar car as she continued to look over her shoulder for “someone” to be following them. She’d pretty much resolved this one of her car fleet was either getting trashed or they’d have to retrieve it later. *npc* “Holy shit…” The one in the rear seat was babbling out loud, watching behind them as they drove to make sure they weren’t being followed. The driver was actually going somewhere with purpose. There was a contingency plan in place. *npc* “…what the hell happened? They came from nowhere!” She made a point to check all her weaponry, and could scowl really well, letting the two babble to each other about how horrible the whole ordeal was and even going so far as to verbally ogle Ahanu, their captor. Good grief. They were heading toward the upper east side. Interesting. *npc* “We going back to central?” That was a good question, were these guys grunts or planners? They knew the contingency plan but seemed to have no understanding that they could be followed or the car could be jacked. They were grunts, they were told what to do. Trevor, as much as she hated to admit it, was the brains? She nodded and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They also seemed to not question “Jerry’s” presence. That could mean several things: they accepted Jerry got them out of trouble personally when things went sour and things went awry often, they expected it to go south, or they were green as hell and Trevor was put in place to make sure things went south. Was this a set up? Were these guys not supposed to make it out? Shit. How long had Gallo been looking for these guys? They had to know Bakkhos wouldn’t just let this issue go and they would be actively and aggressively pursuing the problem. It had all the marks for a trap. That took balls. Jesus, they were trying to rumble Bakkhos. She was reaching into her pants pocket for her own phone when Trevor’s sprang to life. She answered it, the accusing string of profanity making her eyebrow quirk slightly. Jerry? Well then, he was a joy. She hung up. “Stop the car,” she said quietly, menacing. All it took was hearing his voice once. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. She was never great at voices, especially men. It didn’t matter at the moment. They pulled over in front of a shuttered store and she got out, closing the door and waiting for the call she knew was coming again as she watched the two in the car keep glancing nervously in the direction they had come from. Phone rang. Jerry again. Now, she had to be a baby asshole vampire. She could do that without changing her appearance, but it took effort. *npc-Jerry* “Trevor what the HELL is going on? One of your grunts just called and said you left? Where’d the hell you go? That shit wasn’t supposed to be moved until morning!” “That’s not what you told me,” she hissed. Playing the fool and picking a fight. *npc-Jerry* “You were supposed to hold there until morning and bring it back in! Damn it Trevor! I’m at the east site, west and north are already set. I don’t have time to deal with this shit. Get your ass back there, I’ll be there in twenty to make sure you didn’t fuck anything else up. Get there and HOLD there. CALL me if there is any contact.” “Got it,” she hung up. Contact? Interesting. Lifting and dialing the other phone, she rang Ahanu. “Incoming in twenty. They were supposed to hold the shipment there until morning, then pull it. They have three other sites in the city right now. I think they’re specifically bread-crumbing to see if Bakkhos is on to them. I think their endgame is Gallo... to kill him, provoke him, take him… I don’t know yet. Don’t let him out of your sight.” *npc-Ahanu* “Got it.” She got back in the car. They were reaching the point of no return. She could only hold this form for so long, and it would take a certain amount of time to make it back. The test was if she could hold up the charade to the end of the line to get enough information to be of use without leaving herself so weak she couldn’t defend herself if necessary. The bigger question was if Jerry was ready at any point to encounter Bakkhos, what kind of magus was he, and what kind of muscle did he have behind him? It was no secret Gallo was a fighter. She knew that damn stadium could come back to bite them in the ass. What group would have the guts to do this to a Capo, let alone Bakkhos? They were flying in the face of the most powerful group on the east coast. It left very few options, and none of them she liked. He was an example. If they could take down the strongest fighter, how would that make Bakkhos look? This was meant to break their reputation and destabilize their hold. It wasn’t about killing people, it was about putting Bakkhos into chaos. They rolled to a stop, turning and going underneath a high rise into a parking structure. This was no fringe operation in an empty warehouse. It was bankrolled. This was as far as she could go with these two, and Jerry would have to disappear as well. As the car parked in the quiet underground garage, her movements blurred. Behind her a broken neck, the driver was food. Sitting in the dim darkness and feeling sustenance soak into her veins like water on cracked earth; she didn’t have much time left, even with recharging. The mana was not bound to her vampire side. It would fade out, and leave her exposed. Dumping the driver into the back seat, she situated them neatly and slid over to drive. She would head back to the warehouse and drop the charade as soon as she was clear from this building. Seems she would be able to save the car too. Heading toward the exit, she had to get past the gate guard. Stopping, she expected it to just go up. It didn’t. Window slid down a crack, glaring up at the guy. *npc* “Sorry, you just always do it yourself…” She shrugged slightly with a Jerry smirk and rolled the window back up. The gate lifted and she was on her way into the snowy darkness. Phone was snapped open as she drove, allowing everything to slide away. It hurt like hell coming out of it, bones melding back into their memory, muscles knotting and finding their normal positions. As soon as Ahanu picked up, the words were quick. “I think Jerry is a goddamn telekinetic…” she said quickly. “I’m on my way back, get Mouse over there, NOW...” Ahanu knew why. She HATED telekinetics. The wild card of the magus world. They were unquestionably up there with magus that could screw with somebody’s mind. Strength was a crapshoot with someone that could just as simply throw you across a room. Stop bullets. Choke you to death. Rip you in half. Impale you with shit you didn't see coming. They were sleepers. Dangerous and unpredictable. Mouse had skill that could circumvent him, if given the right set of circumstances, and she had the speed to knock him on his ass if necessary. Otherwise, it didn't matter how strong or skilled you were... he was minutes from them, and she was weakened and not going to be there in time. This was the moment when she hoped his people were ready for this....
  24. Ryan Harker

    Walk It Off

    For the ARMA operative, time passed at a crawl. Stadium so silent within the confines of his mind, that he could hear all the minute audiations in the massive space. Beating of his heart, exhale of his breath… her breathing, even the touch of her toes as they glided across the mats surface. The focus his abilities allowed, would be incomprehensible to anyone lacking such gifts. Change in her stance was noticed, as were all the other seemingly imperceptible movements in her form. Pivots of her feet, tension changing in her knees as weight was shifted, tilt of her shoulders as they chambered her strikes, glance of her eyes as they acquired their targets. In concert, these miniscule motions telegraphed Rorye’s maneuvers before they had even been executed. Skilled fighters trained to limit the visibility of these foretelling acts, so they would go unseen by their opponents. However, it is impossible to eliminate these tells altogether. Physics and human physiology have requirements that simply can’t be denied. Great fighters instead learn to conceal or disguise their strikes, so they can be delivered before their opponent has an opportunity to react. Unfortunately for Rorye, Harker’s eyes perceived even the feintest of telegraphs. His reaction to her every move, instant and seemingly perfect for the occasion. When presented with a threat, every sentient being goes through the same mental process. Perceive, decide, react. For the average human, it takes more than .25 seconds to perceive the threat. Another .25 seconds to decide on a course of action to address the threat, and then finally .25 - .5 seconds to execute the reaction. Professional warriors train to make the “decide” step in this process instinctive and immediate, but the other steps cannot be negated. Even speedsters are forced to go through this mental process when confronting danger. Ryan’s abilities made this process instantaneous. Which meant in some ways, he was faster than even those blessed with supernatural agility. When the fight resumed, Rorye led her first combination with kick-boxing styled roundhouse to his front leg. The kick was fast. Too fast. Ryan hadn’t the time to evade or block the attack, which left him with limited options. Lead foot was raised slightly, knee turned toward the incoming strike. A dull “clack” could be heard as bone collided against bone. Rorye’s shin crashing forcefully against Ryan’s knee. Given the speed of the kick, her leg should have snapped, but it did not. Ryan had witnessed her leaping from the multi-story fire escape just the day before. She had landed with poise, unphased by a fall that should have shattered her lower extremities. Deduction advised him, Rorye’s bones were sturdy enough to withstand his Muay-Thai counter. Still, it had to hurt. His knee hadn’t escaped injury either, it would certainly be aching in the morrow. Whether the block had inflicted pain or not, Rorye pressed on with her assault. Right cross snapped forward, glancing lightly off Ryan’s head as he narrowly weaved beneath her strike. A stiff jab from his lead hand slipped under her punch. Fist connected solidly with her jaw, nullifying the next attack in her combination and staggering her backward. The Soldier felt a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to hit her that hard. She had increased the intensity of their match, and incidentally walked into his counter. Still, it was the first time he had struck her with a closed hand. Rorye recovered quickly. Stance was steady, her gaze unflinching. An energy burning ominously at the edges of her eyes. It seemed her power was beginning to uncoil itself. Yet, she seemed to hesitate before initiating the next exchange. Her trainer seized the opportunity. Harker dashed forward with another brisk jab. Though, he was immediately reminded why he had been on the defensive thus far. His hand was deflected with ease. Countered by a chop to the nerve cluster at the inside of his elbow. Another punch followed before he could retract his arm, landing inside the cavity of his armpit. Already he had thrown a hook with his opposite hand, but Rorye weaved nimbly to avoid the attack. Two punches battered Ryan’s abdomen in rapid succession. He recognized her form. She was working his body just as she had worked the heavy bag earlier. A chill down the agent’s spine told him to lean backward, so he did without question. Rorye’s hook zipped past his face. Sixth sense alerted the agent to evade again, dip in his opponent’s shoulder explained the reason. Head slid awkwardly to the side and the leather of Rorye’s glove brushed his cheek. Uppercut had been avoided. While her arm was extended, Harker caught the limb in his grasp and pinned it tight to his body. Jerking motion breaking her balance, before he contorted her arm into a vicious twist. Ryan could have taken her to the ground, or even broken the arm, but he refrained from executing the technique at full speed. Accidently hitting her too hard was one thing, accidently breaking her arm was something else entirely. Instead, he held Rorye’s arm in a lock, forcing her body to writhe in a way she couldn’t muster any further offensive against him. A break in her battle rhythm. A chance for him to recover from the blows he’d taken to the body. A second’s respite, but only just. Rorye winced as she attempted to resist the joint manipulation. Darkness in her eyes at the realization the lock was secure. Then, she was a blur of motion. Acrobatic flip allowed her to escape the hold. Ryan knew she had talent, but he had never encountered anyone with enough dexterity to perform such a maneuver. Aside from himself, of course. Her arm unwound and she managed to grasp his in the process. Yanking him off balance as she used his planted stance to stabilize her landing. Another icy tingle at the base of his neck. Pain was coming and there was nothing the Soldier could do to prevent it. Positioning was compromised and he found himself overextended against a faster opponent. When her feet returned to the mat, Harker had been pulled too far forward to defend himself. Rorye’s rear leg flashed forward with a powerful kick. Top of her foot smashing hard against his groin. A loud “slap” seemed to echo through the gym. Ryan managed to push her away before the pain emerged. Two steps backward, hands returning to their proper posture… then he faltered. A knee dropped to the mat and he raised an open palm to signal “stop.” Agony burned at the pit of his stomach, the urge to vomit fluttering somewhere in his chest. “Hold up,” he wheezed through gritted teeth. “You caught me pretty solid on that one.” Head lowered slightly, but he was careful to keep watch of Rorye from the corner of his eyes. At this point, he wasn’t certain she would relent in her assault. The darker energy within her was beginning to manifest. Her strikes had been precise, unrestrained, and ruthless. The operative had intended to draw out this savage essence, but he hadn’t expected it to reveal itself this quickly… this easily. Perhaps, she was allowing it to take hold because she trusted Ryan could handle its strength. Or perhaps, she simply lacked the ability to control it. Whichever the case, one thing was certain. Rorye had stepped up her game, and if they were going to find the extent of her power, he would have to do the same. “Alright, I’m good.” Ryan declared after a few deep breaths. In truth, he hadn’t really recovered yet. Further delay might jeopardize the progress they had already made. So, he would ‘Walk It Off.’ The fighter gave each leg a shake, shrugged his shoulders and settled into fighting stance. Gloved hand was extended toward his sparring partner. Smiling through his mouthguard as he teased, “It’s a good thing you kick like a girl.”
  25. What Lies We Breathe is a relaxed, Urban Fantasy RP that provides a comfortable place to play for anyone and everyone. We thrive on the nitty-gritty, character-driven plots. (The supernatural life isn't always rainbows and sunshine!) In this parallel universe, humans unknowingly live next door to the very creatures that are thought to exist only in myth. Supernaturals own establishments, attend classes, and blend with the rest of human society Modern-day Cordova is no exception. This fictional city in the heart of Colorado is home to humans, psychics, Vampires, and Weres alike. Tensions run high as Humans learn to cope with the fact that Vampires actually exist, not to mention the furry and the undead being at each other's throats almost constantly. FEATURES: → Friendly & welcoming 18+ community with no cliques! Come make new friends! → Determine the site's overall plot arc via IC happenings (member-driven storylines)! → No activity requirements! Post at your own pace! → Short applications! → Several species to choose from! → Levels based on character development! → The freedom to create your own IC group! → Achievements that you can earn both IC and OOC! → Easy to read skins (both Light & Dark skins provided)! { Home | Getting Started | Guidebook | Wanted Ads | Face Claim }
  26. Maya Rowen

    Shall We Play a Game?

    Maya was quiet for a few moments. Her fear was beginning to abate. Part of it was the liquor, part of it the familiarity of her apartment as she settled into the couch. Most of it though was the vampires demeanor. She was nothing like the thing her and the ARMA agent had found in the warehouse. She didn’t doubt the woman could kill her, but she was starting to believe that maybe she didn’t want to. The words were a mild comfort even if they turned out to be a lie. After all what was the sense in worrying about something she had no control over? Still she couldn’t help the nagging feeling that the questions wouldn’t be the end of it. That would be to easy. “The vampire... the Sheut Ka-” she corrected herself using the term the woman had. “-it wasn’t like you. It was...unfinished? Younger maybe? “ She bit her lip as she tried to find the right words to explain. It wasn’t an easy thing. Not when she didn’t even really know how her gifts worked. Her sight was the most difficult to explain to others. It had taken her months to learn just how to get around again after her regular sight had faded. Longer than that to learn to really make sense of most of what she was seeing. “It’d probably be better if I started by telling you what I can do.” She grabbed the bottle again, taking a smaller sip from it before setting it back on the floor and turning her gaze back to the diminutive woman. “You probably figured out my eyes aren’t exactly normal. I can’t see anymore. Not like you. Not like anyone. Most of the time things are...dull. Faded. Most of it’s just shades of grey. Makes it hard to make sense of things sometimes. A lot of the time.” She picked the words with care, her tone contemplative. It almost sounded like she was explaining it to herself as much as to the vampire. “I’m not sure what to call what I see. Mana? Life?Aura? ARMA or the Order could probably tell you. Sometimes it’s just there, pouring out of the hole in the sky. Usually I see it in people. Everyone actually. It’s stronger with some people. Usually Magi, or gifted like me, other things that aren’t from here.” She paused, obviously uncomfortable. She had only shared this with two people so far. Chloe had helped her figure it all out in the beginning. She’d disliked this conversation with Graft just as much. Maybe worse. Talking about her gifts felt like she was baring a part of her soul. It made her feel exposed. Naked. It wasn’t something she particularly enjoyed sharing with strangers. Not that she’d had a lot of choice, then or now. She stared at the woman. “Your aura looks bloody. It pulses, like a heartbeat. I can smell it from here. The guy we encountered didn’t look alive to me. He was grey. Except his veins. They gave off the same color as you’re aura. They pulsed just like your aura, but he smelled different. Like death, and fear.” She trembled slightly. Barely noticeable beneath her baggy clothes. She’d had plenty of nightmares over the past few years. None like the ones she’d had in the past week. Not even the one about the accident....or the man she’d killed. The image was seared into her mind. She wanted nothing more than to forget it. Par for the course it seemed. She felt more and more of her memories from before the change slipping away every day they were replaced with some fresh horrors. Part of her envied them. The monsters. Monsters weren’t afraid. “ My best guess is he hadn’t been Sheut-Ka long. A guess is all it is though. I’d never seen him before so that’s all I’ve got for you. I know even less about the other guy.” Her pulse spiked again as she thought about him. God he terrified her. It was different than the vampire. Less visceral. It was a constant state of dread. That he was there. Watching. Waiting for the right moment. It was irrational. She knew it was. Didn’t mean she could shake it off. Could stop him from haunting her dreams. “Pretty much all I can tell you about him is he’s gifted and he’s with ARMA. That’s all I can tell you because I can’t see him. At all. “ Honestly that was the real reason she thought she was so afraid of him. He was faceless. Invisible.Her own personal boogeyman. She shook her head and took another long sip from the bottle as she tried to get him out of her mind. The empty sleeve at her side seemed to inflate, rising up as a golden hand slipped out of it once more to grab the bottle as she screwed the cap on and set it aside. She held the limb up for the other woman to see and wiggled her fingers, a faint trace of amusement flitting across her features. “You’ve already seen my best trick. Or part of it anyway.” As she spoke her hand seemed to shimmer and wicked looking claws extended from her fingertips. She admired them for a moment before she shook her hand out and they seemed to crumble away into golden dust and fade into nothing leaving her fingers normal once more. She grabbed the bottle and was about to take another sip before she thought better of it. She looked to the vampire. Did they drink? There was the clink of glass on glass as she set the bottle on the coffee table between them before pressing her hands together. She moved them back and forth and a lump of gold seemed to form between them. She ran her fingers over it and it seemed to flow like water into a small cup. She slid it and the bottle across the table to her uninvited guest before sinking back into the cushions of her couch.
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