Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Hellis
Raw
GM
Avatar of Hellis

Hellis Cᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟɪsᴛɪᴄ Yᴇᴛ Cʟᴀssʏ

Member Seen 3 yrs ago



New Orleans, 21:00, Friday Night.


The city of New Orleans was rarely dormant. Even as winds and waves and natures wrath had torn trough it, the city would eventually rise. Its inhabitants were hardy folk, festive folk and the kind of people who would put their roots down and not let any hurricane tear them from where they made their home. But this night, something was different. The City seemed almost oppressive in its nightlife. It was as if a unconscious beat had gone and rattled the populace. There was a urgency in the club goers movements and the pedestrian pulled their purses and valuables a bit closer to the body then usual.

But most noticeably was the homeless. More of them braved the light where they risked police and less kind souls. The darkness of their alleys seemed more predatory, more vile then usual. Some of them were acutely aware something was terribly wrong. Old souls who had lived on the street all their lives. Others, people who were unaccustomed to the harsh reality they found themselves in were reacting almost on instinct as their skin prickled. And as night fall, this feeling began to creep upon the soul of six magicians. Six practitioners of the arcane arts who could feel the beat not like some primordial instinct buried in the human brain. But who felt is like doctor putting stethoscope to his patients chest and hearing dying heartbeat.

The nigh was sickly and the darkness held horrors untold.

New Orleans; The Nespado Hotel, 21:45, Friday Night.


The Nespado was the only places magicians considered truly neutral ground in New Orleans. With a city so saturated in different magic practices and many ”too big for their hoods” personalities, the Nespado stood as a place where nobody dared levy a spell or a curse. Thus, it was here Johan always made his first stop. Right now he was laying on his back as the humid air drifted in from the sea nnd the swamp, making the heat even more unbearable for the northerner. He clutched his phone to his ear like it was a lifeline.

”Pick up the phone...” Johan mumbled as got up from the bed and approached the minibar. He took a small bottle of scotch and poured himself a glass. ”C'mon doll..” He muttered under his breath as he took a swig of the alcohol. This was bad. Remi had been like anchor for them both. And he knew Varvera would take her death or disappearance a lot harder then he did. And he was wreck about it.

He sat trying to call her for a good hour and a half before he fell back into the bed. Eyes drifting close as exhaustion, both mental and physical, caught up with him. The phone slipped out of his hand as he fell into slumber. But his dreams were dark and foreboding, and his slept a shallow, panicked sleep.

New Orleans; Remis Study 22:20, Saturday Night.


Remis study was cluttered beyond compare. Only Remi knew how to navigate the piles of books, items and strange objects that lay strewn about in a organized chaos sort of way. Pile upon pile of books lined the walls next to bookshelfs that were cluttered with artifacts big and small. A single skylight window would shine light directly onto her workbench during the day.

Johan ran a hand trough his hair. Around him, the air was still. There was no spark of magic. None of the tomes infront of him had even the barest hint of latent arcane. He felt like he would be sick. Ever since he had arrived to the city, he had felt out of sorts. And now he stood on the oaken floor of Remis Study and reality was many times scarier then he had been able to imagine. He turned papers over, looking at notes, lifting artifacts carelessly out of their boxes. For if they had been dangerous before, they were now all but dead and inert. Another testament to how fucked things were. He had heard nothing of any being that could just erase any trace of magic on such a scale before.

”Fucking...” He lifted up a pair of rune inscribed armlets he had made for Remi himself. ”That's fucked” He mumbled softly as he put them down again. He leaned foward, resting his hands on the wooden surface of remis desk. ”Where the hell are you Remi” He sat down in one of the chairs as his mind raced. Every ward he had checked had been dead. Yet there was no indicator of a outer forces. Nothing added up. Magic was so varied it could be any number of things. But even so, this was just incredibly illogical even for magic. This went against everything he knew. Power could not undo power without a trace. Everything left residue. And that's when i struck him. There was no remnants, no echos magic. But also, there was no latent energy, no ghostly whispers of memories ingrained in the walls.

A sudden cold gripped him then. What had he just stumbled upon. He tugged his coat around himself without thinking. Waiting for the others to arrive. People he never met before, but others who owed Remi. People who did magic. He hoped one of them had any idea what was going on.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Bourgeoisie
Raw
Avatar of Bourgeoisie

Bourgeoisie

Member Seen 8 yrs ago






New Orleans; 21:45, Friday


"I need to police. I think someone is in my apartment. Please hurry."

Those words were playing on repeat from the laptop on the coffee table in front of the only occupant in the room. It's blue light, the only source of illumination in the pitch black room, washed over the figure seated in front of it. James Wang's shoulder length locks of black hair hid his face as he let his head hang, his hands covering his mouth as his brown eyes stared at the screen weightlessly.

He had come to New Orleans to ask his older friend and confidant on any new developments in the magical world before he ended his hiding period. He was shocked when his bugs in the city's communication systems had picked up those terrifying words from Remi's address. He hadn't believed them when he had first heard them, and so had called Remi's phone, then house phone, and she still didn't pick up.

Letting his hands fall, his lips were pressed into a straight line. Looking over at the clock on the bottom right hand of his computer screen, his hands mindlessly reached over to the shoulder holster sitting to the left of the computer. Sliding the black leather over his dress shirt, he clipped the straps to his belt. Rolling up the sleeves of his black sweater, he revealed the tattoos on his arms which he glared at. His gun, a black Browning Hi-Power, laid disassembled in front of him. His hands flew over the pieces with practiced ease, before sliding the pistol in the holster and securing it.

He would have to prepare for the next day. The police would be swarming the place. It would be a miracle if the place would be empty tomorrow.

But for his friends, James would pull off any miracle.




New Orleans; Remis Study 22:22, Saturday Night.


James had been sprinting over the rooftops for nearly twenty minutes, leaping and twisting silently on the backdrop of the moon and the orange glow of the street lights. To an outside observer, his face seemed to be a blob of darkness, a constantly shifting ball of living shadow engulfing his head. For him, he could see perfectly well. His eyes adjusted to the minimal light given to him for his task, and he could feel the wind whipping through his hair, tied into a tight bun. When he saw the familiar rooftop of Remi's home, he put all of his power into a leap over the roof, dropping onto the roof with a muted thud and rolling to displace the impact. He rooled to a stop five feet from the skylight window.

The first thing James noted was wrong was the lack of familiar weight of magic in the air. Magic had always seemed to be a tangible thing to even a contract user like James, and Remi's residence had always had the comforting weight of wards around it. As well, some of the artifacts James had sent to the women had immense magical power. He couldn't feel any of those eldritch and wyrd energies. It was as if it was a magical dead zone, which was both discomforting and angering.

Remi's whole life had been about magic, to have it gone from the scene of her disappearance (not death he tells himself, no body was found) was almost insulting. It was as if the perpetrator was mocking her by making her life work meaningless.

Taking a deep breath, he sneaked over to the edge of the window and saw the large man sitting in a seat in a circle of six seats. He was tall, James noted, at least six feet three and had a large bushy blonde beard with a large side cut of the same color. He was a large, dark overcoat, but James could see the glinting piercings and jewelry along with the intricate tattoos that peeked out from under the sleeves. He was wary, his posture screaming both nervousness and sadness that indicated that he knew what was going on.

Touching the rooster tattoo on his throat, James deepened his voice and threw it behind the other man.

"Who are you?"
Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Fizzy
Raw
Avatar of Fizzy

Fizzy

Member Seen 6 yrs ago

New Orleans.
Saturday, 10.00 PM
The Nespado Hotel.


Isobel always loved the Nespado. Magic was, in her not so humble opinion, far too overrated by the magical community. It could be so coarse the way some magicians wielded it, a blunt hammer to smash through their problems. The strict adherence to avoid any offensive displays of power suited her quite well. It left someone with only their wits and charm to protect them, which Isobel had never underestimate like so many of her colleagues. Here of all places it could be used to garner much reward. Every magical corner of New Orleans in one place, every rivalry and power struggle boiling up to the surface, perfect for the enterprising mind to take advantage of. Unfortunately she was not here for that today.

She sat in the hotel lobby in a relatively undisturbed little corner. Her long legs were crossed, sheathed in black denim which contrasted with the pristine white of her sleeveless blouse. The shiny black leather of her heels glimmered in the hotel lighting which, if she were to stand, would add around six inches to her already considerable height. A glass of wine was idly being caressed by a long, pale finger as she browsed the local newspaper – a surprising goldmine of information to those with a trained eye. To the casual and discerning observer alike Isobel looked poised, relaxed even with a sort of languid grace but they would be wrong. Isobel had felt the unsettling presence for some time now grating against her mind, setting her on edge. Remi... she sighed softly, she owed a favour. Debts were more valuable than currency in the magical world and Isobel knew more than most the importance of keeping herself the black. She had to find out if she was OK, for her sake as well as the other woman’s.

Her phone rang just as she drained the last dregs of the amber liquid from her glass, placing it on the table beside her before she answered the phone. “Ah, Mhairi,” She answered, folding the paper and placing it on her lap, “Did you have a word with the gentlemen as I asked?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Came the girl’s reply, her voice quavering ever so slightly with nerves, “He said he checked out the apartment last night … no answer.”

“I see,” Isobel replied, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the back of her phone as she considered her options. The man in question was an old contact of hers and … not one to be ignored. If he couldn’t elicit a response then there was little chance that she was there in any fashion. “Thank you,” she said as she hung up, standing and sliding on a slate grey overcoat before making her way into the New Orlesian night, her heels clacking against the smooth floor as she tried to keep her face calm and mind clear of the maelstrom of possibilities that raged across her mind. “Oh Remi … what in hells have you done?”

~*~


Isobel's pale hand pushed the door open noiselessly, silently walking into the chaos of the apartment. She stared at the large, blonde man in the midst of the scholarly debris with an appraising look. She doubted he was a scavenger coming to pick the carcass of Remi’s artefacts as several items of impressive value were already on the floor apparently discarded. She continued to watch for a couple of minutes, straining to hear the man’s mutterings under his breath wondering if it would prove useful. His speech was mixed with a healthy dose of profanity but the summary of his outpourings seemed mostly concerned with Remi’s welfare. His accent was slight, she would guess Scandinavian of some extraction but anything more specific was impossible.

She raised an eyebrow at the disembodied voice that sounded across the room and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Hello,” She said as she made her way further into the room, “Whoever is lurking about I suggest you come down, evidently we’re all here for the same purpose. Besides, I make a point never to introduce myself to faceless voices.”

Her gray eyes regarded the tattooed figure before her, flicking from his head to his boots with a slow, deliberate pace. “Strange …” She said, half to herself, Isobel had long been used to the faint presence at the back of her mind of background magic. She had only been to Remi’s a handful of times yet had always noticed the concentrated, almost electric, energy that hung around the place. Now there was none it was quite disconcerting, like a clock whose tick you never noticed until it had stopped. She closed her eyes, her mind roaming across the room with a subtle presence. Like a piece of silk brushing against skin her mind probed for the faintest scrap of magic within the room and worryingly could find none. “It’s almost like we’re in some form of vacuum,” she said, “Necrotic energies from the Undying Realm perhaps?”
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Archangel89
Raw
Avatar of Archangel89

Archangel89 NEZUKO-CHANNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!

Member Seen 2 mos ago

New Orleans.
Saturday, 10:45PM
The Nespado Hotel.


It had taken Dr. Falcier most of the day to find his way to The Nespado. Today had been his last day of teaching before his extended leave of absence took place and the mysteries surrounding his sudden leave was all the buzz around LSU. As he pondered about the kids in his classes he couldn't help but noticed that many were around the same age as he when his journey into the occult, and he knew when he looked into the mirror that he would still see that same young man that had been so full of hope. Finally the sun had set and Falcier's true world began to unfold, the world of shadows and magic a world that only lived in the imgainations of authors.

The travel from Baton Rouge to New Orleans had not been a very difficult one, traffic had been relativley mild compared to most days during the week, espically Saturday on the roads to one of the biggest party cities in the world. If they only knew the true history behind the facade that they paraded upon. Falcier walked upon the city streets and watched as the less responsible members of society spent their hard earned money in what had become a nest of sin and debouchery, in the back of his mind Falcier could feel the Shadow-man speaking to him in fettered tongues telling him to begin making deals and wisking souls away to empower the Loa's power within him.

It was everything that he could do to keep himself from doing just that. The more he traveled down the winding city streets the more he remembered the darker more secluded side of town, where every shadow has a name and he knew everyone by heart. Finally at long last he stood in front of The Nespado, the magical neutral ground on which all magicans stood on. The last time he visited this seeming "holy ground" he had visited Remi about some research notes that aided him in his latest paper. Remi...the reason that he was here, the reason he knew his friends would be coming here as well.

~*~


It had taken some considerable time to make his way up to Remi's room, every trudging familiar step Falcier could feel his heart racing, for the first time in a very long time Steven was actually scared of what he was going to find. His mind ran through every possibility and suddenly with the added notion of the woman with the impressive figurehad been following in the same trail as he was. How strange that the woman would enter his mind as he reached the outside of Remi's door only to hear a voice finally attached to the woman that he was following.

The comment about the disembodied voice was also a concern to Falcier as he could not make heads or tails of where it came from, although there was a spot in the room that seemed to hold a more shadows than normal so he could only assume that that was where the voice came from.

"Well as we all can see, at least the most of us are here for a similar reason. Ah, my name is Dr. Steven Falcier, Mrs..?'

As he waited for the woman to answer Falcier looked towards Johan who still was pulling off the angry viking look, and to someone as old as Steven the look was something that he could not understand. Where Steven kept to suits he just could not understand Johan's look of a deranged fisherman. Still Falcier could not deny Johan's prowess in the arcane arts and he was still a friend of his.

"Hello Winter, it has been a while has it not?"
↑ Top
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet