The light breeze that flowed from across the Thames was warm for this time of year, and as the moisture-laden air met the cool land, a thick bank of fog enveloped all of London. So thick was the low cloud that it obscured the quarter-moon to nothing more than a silvery smudge in the dark sky. The sounds of the city were as muffled as the lights, and at the long causeway that led to Bain & Hoyle Castle, it truly seemed as if the grand structure stood unaccompanied in the world, a lone and warmly glowing beacon in a night otherwise devoid of color and life.
At the end of the cobblestoned causeway, nearest the illustrious stairway to the main gate, stood the two red Oni that had guarded the castle for almost three centuries. The large and ominous crimson demons of Japanese lore sat on their heels, and rested without any real fatigue against the giant kanabō that each wielded.
Ever vigilant, though not overly perceptive, the two Oni peered into the fog with blank faces. They had no reason to suspect that their martial prowess would be needed this night, and thusly the appearance of a heavily cloaked figure slowly materializing out of the fog, caused them to flinch in surprise.
“Halt!” one of the giant demons bellowed in Japanese.
The pair of Oni rose off their heels, and stepped forward. The menacing clubs they held were now poised to strike. No matter if the figure understood the call to halt, the Oni’s body language was clear.
The figure stopped before them, some twenty paces away. With a manner that was utterly calm, the figure reached up to withdraw the large hood that obscured his head. The black eyes of the Oni narrowed as the warm light from the castle fell across the long muzzle and pointed ears of a werewolf.
“What is your business here?” the second Oni said. “Speak quickly.”
A long moment passed in silence. The Oni stared down at the werewolf, and observed that all of the fur upon his head was coated in a dark, blue-black powder. Even the slight amount of fur visible upon his hands was black, as if his entire body had been drenched in coal-dust. At last, the werewolf looked up to the Oni, and his lips parted with an answer.
“Salvation.”
The Oni had but only a brief second to comprehend the wolf’s words, when the creature exploded in their faces.
A bright light flashed from the werewolf’s chest, instantly accompanied by an expanding ball of white-hot energy that burst outward with astonishing force. The two Oni were knocked back, their weapons shooting free of their grasp, and the skin upon their bodies burning with a preternatural intensity.
The Oni cried out and screamed with a sense of pain that they had never known. The tongues of flame that danced across their skin did not cease until nothing was left but ash.
Where the werewolf had been, nothing tangible remained. Only a slight, wispy ball of energy persisted. It was the last vestiges of the werewolf’s soul, a soul that had been the very fuel for the mighty bomb that the martyred creature had just released upon the unsuspecting guardians of the castle.
From down the causeway, other figures were now materializing. Hundreds, thousands of werewolves, each drenched in black powder, and each ready to sacrifice their lives and very souls so that the walls of the castle would come crashing down around the heretics it protected.
AmongHeroes
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Always Searching For The Next Great Story
Hello there,
I am AmongHeroes, and I'm happy you're here. I am an experienced roleplayer, writer, and fantastical creator.
♠ - I am an adult in my 30's. As such, I prefer to write with other adults.
♠ - Though I am capable of embodying many varied characters, in 1 x 1 settings I prefer writing as a heterosexual male with a generally dominant/masculine aura.
♠ - Genres I enjoy range from low & high fantasy, sci-fi, horror, gothic, romance, dark romance and noir.
♠ - Adult themes are welcome including violence, sexual encounters, etc.
Do feel free to reach out to me for partnership inquiries or for friendly interaction. I look forward to seeing you 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑒𝑠 we create.
I am made from the stardust of Her heart. Linked beyond time and moons and stars, in every life a soul fitted indelibly to a universe woven in the shape of Her claim.
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Thomas sat up instinctively as the panic and roiling emotion rose into the First Mate’s eyes. He was taken aback as she seemed to coil like a spring, being compressed with a burden he could not see or understand. When she answered him, her words cut through the air with the force of old pain restrained by personal will.
She spoke of thanks, and of appreciation. She spoke of duty and of love for the Skate. She offered her service, and even her life. What she did not offer however was trust, and though her proclamations seemed genuine, her omission of even the very word was as conspicuous as the scar upon her face.
What have I done? Thomas thought.
Had he made a mistake in coming to Nicolette? In seeking common ground between them her answers made it seem like he was no closer to the mysterious, beautiful, and apparently troubled First Mate. It was as if he was swimming into a riptide, moving with hopeful intention against a current that pulled him inexorably away. His heart fell slightly in his chest as a sobering realization came to him with Nicolette’s words still ringing in the small cabin.
His First Mate, his right hand, for all her high quality and staunch sense of duty would never wholly bestow her faith in him. His actions, his words, and even his intentions would forever be slanted by doubt in her eyes.
“I appreciate your devotion to the Skate, Nicolette.” Thomas said quietly, unable to hide the shade of disappointment in his voice. “It is a quality of you that has never been a question, but it is always refreshing to hear.”
His face pinched, and his brows furrowed. “I apologize if my coming here was forward, but perhaps I can explain my reasoning. Lightfoot, my adopted father, was a rough pirate to his very core. Salt flowed in his veins and gold filled his skull.”
Thomas looked to Nicolette as he spoke, his gaze not shying from the cat-like eyes of the First Mate. “For all that though, Lightfoot had a heart for love. I was lucky enough to be granted that love. Since I was sixteen I was at his side, sailing and plundering, and all the while he granted every ounce of faith in me that he possessed. When I spoke to him, he took my words at their full value, and when he spoke to me, I revered it like gospel.”
He smiled then, recollecting absently upon some fond memory. “You see, I trusted him implicitly. In his shadow I felt confident and safe. I felt like a man with the world laid out before him on a platter. I was a king in waiting, a prince of the sea.”
“And I have fantasized,” he said, his voice falling off into an almost whisper, “since his passing, about finding that partner that can give me that feeling again.”
Thomas smirked and snorted, his own forthrightness surprising him.
“I suppose such a dream is wholly foolish, eh?”
He stood then, holding his own mug of coffee, now forgotten, between his hands. Thomas cleared his throat and tried to offer the First Mate a reassuring smile that he himself did not embrace.
“Thank you for your time, Lieutenant.”
She spoke of thanks, and of appreciation. She spoke of duty and of love for the Skate. She offered her service, and even her life. What she did not offer however was trust, and though her proclamations seemed genuine, her omission of even the very word was as conspicuous as the scar upon her face.
What have I done? Thomas thought.
Had he made a mistake in coming to Nicolette? In seeking common ground between them her answers made it seem like he was no closer to the mysterious, beautiful, and apparently troubled First Mate. It was as if he was swimming into a riptide, moving with hopeful intention against a current that pulled him inexorably away. His heart fell slightly in his chest as a sobering realization came to him with Nicolette’s words still ringing in the small cabin.
His First Mate, his right hand, for all her high quality and staunch sense of duty would never wholly bestow her faith in him. His actions, his words, and even his intentions would forever be slanted by doubt in her eyes.
“I appreciate your devotion to the Skate, Nicolette.” Thomas said quietly, unable to hide the shade of disappointment in his voice. “It is a quality of you that has never been a question, but it is always refreshing to hear.”
His face pinched, and his brows furrowed. “I apologize if my coming here was forward, but perhaps I can explain my reasoning. Lightfoot, my adopted father, was a rough pirate to his very core. Salt flowed in his veins and gold filled his skull.”
Thomas looked to Nicolette as he spoke, his gaze not shying from the cat-like eyes of the First Mate. “For all that though, Lightfoot had a heart for love. I was lucky enough to be granted that love. Since I was sixteen I was at his side, sailing and plundering, and all the while he granted every ounce of faith in me that he possessed. When I spoke to him, he took my words at their full value, and when he spoke to me, I revered it like gospel.”
He smiled then, recollecting absently upon some fond memory. “You see, I trusted him implicitly. In his shadow I felt confident and safe. I felt like a man with the world laid out before him on a platter. I was a king in waiting, a prince of the sea.”
“And I have fantasized,” he said, his voice falling off into an almost whisper, “since his passing, about finding that partner that can give me that feeling again.”
Thomas smirked and snorted, his own forthrightness surprising him.
“I suppose such a dream is wholly foolish, eh?”
He stood then, holding his own mug of coffee, now forgotten, between his hands. Thomas cleared his throat and tried to offer the First Mate a reassuring smile that he himself did not embrace.
“Thank you for your time, Lieutenant.”
A belated welcome you Dannyel, and welcome to Aoife as well! Feel free to jump in when you can. If you need any help in getting your character melded into the RP, please feel free to PM me.
I'll have a post up Tuesday, and hopefully all the characters will be in a good spot to start the next portion of the RP. Hope everyone is having a good weekend.
I'll have a post up Tuesday, and hopefully all the characters will be in a good spot to start the next portion of the RP. Hope everyone is having a good weekend.
Hey all, how are we doing? Well I hope.
There have been some wonderful posts of late, and I wanted to give you all a big GM thank you for doing that. It's always nice to have such great material to work with and experience. That being said, your posts have me itching to delve our little RP into, shall we say, more tumultuous events...
Anyway, I was thinking of writing up this next major plot point for tomorrow evening, hopefully to give people some time to add another post if they would like. I don't want to cut people short though if they simply must have some more free interaction time. Any objections?
There have been some wonderful posts of late, and I wanted to give you all a big GM thank you for doing that. It's always nice to have such great material to work with and experience. That being said, your posts have me itching to delve our little RP into, shall we say, more tumultuous events...
Anyway, I was thinking of writing up this next major plot point for tomorrow evening, hopefully to give people some time to add another post if they would like. I don't want to cut people short though if they simply must have some more free interaction time. Any objections?
Atticus’ nature, his true and infernal nature, took hold of him like he had never experienced before. There was power in Siya’s lips, something that stripped away his layers of humanity that he so carefully wrapped himself in. Her desire, and the intensity of her need only spurned his own, and in that moment, lost to time and reality, he was no longer Atticus. He was simply an Incubus.
With one arm he encircled the tiny vampire’s waist. Her petite frame clung to him with remarkable strength, and so was his preoccupation that he had to use his other arm to navigate his way towards the bedchambers. Chairs and tables, and anything else that happened in his way was cast aside without regard, flung with wild abandon as he marched the pair of them out of the great hall, and at last into the long hallway, and its many doors.
It was almost too much for him, his own lustful yearning combined with the vampire’s. Heat, passion, and dark raw energy seemed to pour from her black eyes, and cascade over him like an intoxicating fog. The Incubus had no vision beyond her. He saw nothing else but the ethereal glow of her body, and the amorous promise of her movements.
With some vestige of effort, some shred of lingering decency, the Incubus managed to refuse his own desire long enough to carry the vampire beyond the hallway, and at last to a bedchamber. In the darkness of the room, his eyes glowed like balls of shimmering ruby fire, catching the beautiful valley’s and crests of the vampire’s face in an otherworldly glow.
“It has been far too long.” The Incubus managed to mutter to her before slamming the heavy door behind them; his last intelligible words of the near future.
With one arm he encircled the tiny vampire’s waist. Her petite frame clung to him with remarkable strength, and so was his preoccupation that he had to use his other arm to navigate his way towards the bedchambers. Chairs and tables, and anything else that happened in his way was cast aside without regard, flung with wild abandon as he marched the pair of them out of the great hall, and at last into the long hallway, and its many doors.
It was almost too much for him, his own lustful yearning combined with the vampire’s. Heat, passion, and dark raw energy seemed to pour from her black eyes, and cascade over him like an intoxicating fog. The Incubus had no vision beyond her. He saw nothing else but the ethereal glow of her body, and the amorous promise of her movements.
With some vestige of effort, some shred of lingering decency, the Incubus managed to refuse his own desire long enough to carry the vampire beyond the hallway, and at last to a bedchamber. In the darkness of the room, his eyes glowed like balls of shimmering ruby fire, catching the beautiful valley’s and crests of the vampire’s face in an otherworldly glow.
“It has been far too long.” The Incubus managed to mutter to her before slamming the heavy door behind them; his last intelligible words of the near future.
Thomas smiled to the First Mate as she opened the door. Her transformation back to the hardened, yet strikingly beautiful naval officer was in stark contrast to the woman he had glimpsed earlier. The blue eyes that met his own copper gaze felt icy and distant, but Thomas refused to let the happiness drain from his face.
“I didn’t imagine you did, Lieutenant. Forget about our meeting, that is.” Thomas said as he came into the small cabin and took a seat, with the smile still curling his lips and the stubble upon his jaw. “Thank you for seeing me.”
With great care, Thomas set the two mugs down on the table, and poured generous helpings of coffee into each. When they were filled, he set the pot aside, and placed one of the mugs before Nicolette as she took her seat across from him. She asked after the purpose of their meeting, and further if he was hurt. To these questions, Thomas’ genuine smile grew fractionally larger.
“Ah, well the answer to your second question dovetails nicely with the answer to your first.” Thomas brought his mug of coffee to his lips and blew upon the steaming ebony liquid before sipping at it. The coffee was still very hot, but the first sip danced pleasantly upon his tongue nevertheless. He used the moment as he sipped to organize his thoughts, and decide upon his next words.
“You have a keen nose,” Thomas said as he turned in his chair, presenting his back to the First Mate and resident doctor. With only a slight cringe as he contorted his arms, Thomas lifted his linen shirt, exposing the freshly marked tattoo upon his flesh. Thomas spoke down to his boots, as he no longer faced Nicolette. “I must confess that this injury is of my own doing.”
He shrugged, “It is perhaps a foolish thing to have done before a voyage, but the man that has been tattooing me is only available on rare occasions.” Thomas pulled the shirt back down, and shifted in his chair to face Nicolette once more. The smile, ever present since his visit, remained.
When he spoke next, his voice was the smooth and romantic sound of buccaneer French. “As for the answer as to why I asked for you to meet me, I wanted to speak with you about trust. That is why I showed you my back. No one else besides the artist has seen the work. Its meaning is very personal to me, and I hope you take my forwardness in showing you in the light of friendship that it was intended.”
Thomas sat forward, leaning his elbows upon his knees. He looked to Nicolette with a gaze that spoke of openness. “I trust you, Nicolette,” He said, softly emphasizing the use of her given name. “I trust you because I see your drive and commitment in handling the Skate and the men that sail her. Your merit is without blemish, and that is why you are my First Mate.”
He opened his hands and shrugged once more. “You were bold in coming to me and seeking out a berth on this ship. I liked that about you, as you well know. However, you must also realize that your boldness notwithstanding, I would never have allowed you aboard my ship if I did not trust you, or more appropriately, thought you capable of gaining my faith.”
Thomas paused to smile, hoping to keep the conversation light. He took another sip of coffee.
“I know you are a private individual, and that is your right, as it is any person’s right. I know very little about your past, and that fact does not trouble me. Discretion is freedom in the New World, and I value it highly. When it comes to my friends, and those in whom I place my own fate, I look only to the now, and to the horizon beyond.”
Thomas lifted an eyebrow to the First Mate, the corner of his mouth naturally following the upward arch of his brow. “Your are my right hand aboard this ship, the person I know who has the capability to sail the Skate through hell’s black waters, and back out again.”
With his eyes glittering with curiosity, Thomas leaned back into his chair. “What I want to know, Lieutenant, is how I can gain that same trust from you?”
“I didn’t imagine you did, Lieutenant. Forget about our meeting, that is.” Thomas said as he came into the small cabin and took a seat, with the smile still curling his lips and the stubble upon his jaw. “Thank you for seeing me.”
With great care, Thomas set the two mugs down on the table, and poured generous helpings of coffee into each. When they were filled, he set the pot aside, and placed one of the mugs before Nicolette as she took her seat across from him. She asked after the purpose of their meeting, and further if he was hurt. To these questions, Thomas’ genuine smile grew fractionally larger.
“Ah, well the answer to your second question dovetails nicely with the answer to your first.” Thomas brought his mug of coffee to his lips and blew upon the steaming ebony liquid before sipping at it. The coffee was still very hot, but the first sip danced pleasantly upon his tongue nevertheless. He used the moment as he sipped to organize his thoughts, and decide upon his next words.
“You have a keen nose,” Thomas said as he turned in his chair, presenting his back to the First Mate and resident doctor. With only a slight cringe as he contorted his arms, Thomas lifted his linen shirt, exposing the freshly marked tattoo upon his flesh. Thomas spoke down to his boots, as he no longer faced Nicolette. “I must confess that this injury is of my own doing.”
He shrugged, “It is perhaps a foolish thing to have done before a voyage, but the man that has been tattooing me is only available on rare occasions.” Thomas pulled the shirt back down, and shifted in his chair to face Nicolette once more. The smile, ever present since his visit, remained.
When he spoke next, his voice was the smooth and romantic sound of buccaneer French. “As for the answer as to why I asked for you to meet me, I wanted to speak with you about trust. That is why I showed you my back. No one else besides the artist has seen the work. Its meaning is very personal to me, and I hope you take my forwardness in showing you in the light of friendship that it was intended.”
Thomas sat forward, leaning his elbows upon his knees. He looked to Nicolette with a gaze that spoke of openness. “I trust you, Nicolette,” He said, softly emphasizing the use of her given name. “I trust you because I see your drive and commitment in handling the Skate and the men that sail her. Your merit is without blemish, and that is why you are my First Mate.”
He opened his hands and shrugged once more. “You were bold in coming to me and seeking out a berth on this ship. I liked that about you, as you well know. However, you must also realize that your boldness notwithstanding, I would never have allowed you aboard my ship if I did not trust you, or more appropriately, thought you capable of gaining my faith.”
Thomas paused to smile, hoping to keep the conversation light. He took another sip of coffee.
“I know you are a private individual, and that is your right, as it is any person’s right. I know very little about your past, and that fact does not trouble me. Discretion is freedom in the New World, and I value it highly. When it comes to my friends, and those in whom I place my own fate, I look only to the now, and to the horizon beyond.”
Thomas lifted an eyebrow to the First Mate, the corner of his mouth naturally following the upward arch of his brow. “Your are my right hand aboard this ship, the person I know who has the capability to sail the Skate through hell’s black waters, and back out again.”
With his eyes glittering with curiosity, Thomas leaned back into his chair. “What I want to know, Lieutenant, is how I can gain that same trust from you?”
DotCom said
Also: Cool, sounds good. QUESTION -- if Daisy ends up saving the day, do I have permission to intro my post with a supercut of transformation scenes from Sailor Moon?
For the love of god, yes.
Glad to have your interest Sonatina! Here is what I have for you (and The New Yorker too)...
It is approximately a year following the ending of the last episode of Pieces of 8, wherein the original characters stopped an ancient vampire named Decima from gaining control of all the ancient vampire bloodlines, and the extreme power contained within them. The power of the bloodlines had been separated into eight individual objects, with each one being cared for by a vampire lord. They were known as the Pieces of 8, and if Decima gathered up all the Pieces, she would possess the means to completely destabilize both the human world, and the Veiled World.
Decima was defeated through a couple of ways: the first being Siya (played by Lillian Thorne) absorbing the power from one of the Pieces that had belonged to her creator; the second was by basically severing her soul from its connection to any realm that would allow her to exist. This was done by Max/Thad (played by tirgesfu) being purposefully killed by Daisy (played by DotCom), and sent to the realm of the dead to carry out that mission.
In the current installment of the RP, even though Decima was destroyed, her near success has changed the Veiled World. Old prejudices and new plots for control of the world’s destiny have come to a head. This begins with the werewolf governing body, the Lupus Naturae, restarting a sort of ethnic cleanse within their ranks, and hunting down werewolf groups and individuals they deem to be subversive or unworthy. One of those that are being hunted is Reginald Hoyle’s sister, Aislinn Hoyle.
When this episode began, Atticus (played by me) has just discovered a means to retrieve Max/Thad from the realm of the dead, when he is contacted by Reginald Hoyle for an urgent assignment. The assignment turns out to be the protection of Aislinn from the Lupus Naturae. While assembling a team to carry out this mission, Atticus also gathers a group to go and retrieve Max/Thad’s soul.
The protection of Aislinn is an immediate failure, as she is almost assassinated by a pair of water spirits that somehow discover her whereabouts. It is initially a mystery as to why water spirits would have any interest in killing a werewolf. Aislinn's wounds are tended to, and she and the group that had come to protect her return to the London Branch of Bain & Hoyle to recover.
As a result of the attack on Aislinn, it is becoming apparent that the Lupus Naturae are working with a spirit of the north known as the Lady of Ice, or Ice Queen, to achieve their ends. This explains why water spirits were sent to kill Aislinn. This evidence, coupled with other pieces of information, has led the Bain & Hoyle group to believe this Lady of Ice is using the Lupus Naturae to begin the events of Ragnarök, for an as of yet unknown purpose. She intends to begin these events by freeing the Norse god-wolf Fenris.
Meanwhile, the group sent to recover Max/Thad is successful. Using an Ancient Egyptian artifact, Max/Thad is able to remove himself from the realm of the dead, and meet up with the Bain & Hoyle agents that were initially sent to save him. Upon doing so, this group also returns to the London Branch.
This is about where we are at now. The agents are hanging about the castle where the London Branch is housed, waiting for the next move to be announced by Bain and Hoyle. Unbeknownst to the player characters is a group of werewolves gathering outside of the castle in preparation for an attack.
I know this is a lot of info, but you have to understand that this RP has been going on for a while. Please don’t be daunted by the story thus far, as I can assure you assimilation into the story can be easily done.
If you have further questions please feel free to ask away!
@DotCom-Yeah, you’re fine wherever. Nothing has changed. Daisy might be in an interesting location when the werewolves decide to come knocking ;).
It is approximately a year following the ending of the last episode of Pieces of 8, wherein the original characters stopped an ancient vampire named Decima from gaining control of all the ancient vampire bloodlines, and the extreme power contained within them. The power of the bloodlines had been separated into eight individual objects, with each one being cared for by a vampire lord. They were known as the Pieces of 8, and if Decima gathered up all the Pieces, she would possess the means to completely destabilize both the human world, and the Veiled World.
Decima was defeated through a couple of ways: the first being Siya (played by Lillian Thorne) absorbing the power from one of the Pieces that had belonged to her creator; the second was by basically severing her soul from its connection to any realm that would allow her to exist. This was done by Max/Thad (played by tirgesfu) being purposefully killed by Daisy (played by DotCom), and sent to the realm of the dead to carry out that mission.
In the current installment of the RP, even though Decima was destroyed, her near success has changed the Veiled World. Old prejudices and new plots for control of the world’s destiny have come to a head. This begins with the werewolf governing body, the Lupus Naturae, restarting a sort of ethnic cleanse within their ranks, and hunting down werewolf groups and individuals they deem to be subversive or unworthy. One of those that are being hunted is Reginald Hoyle’s sister, Aislinn Hoyle.
When this episode began, Atticus (played by me) has just discovered a means to retrieve Max/Thad from the realm of the dead, when he is contacted by Reginald Hoyle for an urgent assignment. The assignment turns out to be the protection of Aislinn from the Lupus Naturae. While assembling a team to carry out this mission, Atticus also gathers a group to go and retrieve Max/Thad’s soul.
The protection of Aislinn is an immediate failure, as she is almost assassinated by a pair of water spirits that somehow discover her whereabouts. It is initially a mystery as to why water spirits would have any interest in killing a werewolf. Aislinn's wounds are tended to, and she and the group that had come to protect her return to the London Branch of Bain & Hoyle to recover.
As a result of the attack on Aislinn, it is becoming apparent that the Lupus Naturae are working with a spirit of the north known as the Lady of Ice, or Ice Queen, to achieve their ends. This explains why water spirits were sent to kill Aislinn. This evidence, coupled with other pieces of information, has led the Bain & Hoyle group to believe this Lady of Ice is using the Lupus Naturae to begin the events of Ragnarök, for an as of yet unknown purpose. She intends to begin these events by freeing the Norse god-wolf Fenris.
Meanwhile, the group sent to recover Max/Thad is successful. Using an Ancient Egyptian artifact, Max/Thad is able to remove himself from the realm of the dead, and meet up with the Bain & Hoyle agents that were initially sent to save him. Upon doing so, this group also returns to the London Branch.
This is about where we are at now. The agents are hanging about the castle where the London Branch is housed, waiting for the next move to be announced by Bain and Hoyle. Unbeknownst to the player characters is a group of werewolves gathering outside of the castle in preparation for an attack.
I know this is a lot of info, but you have to understand that this RP has been going on for a while. Please don’t be daunted by the story thus far, as I can assure you assimilation into the story can be easily done.
If you have further questions please feel free to ask away!
@DotCom-Yeah, you’re fine wherever. Nothing has changed. Daisy might be in an interesting location when the werewolves decide to come knocking ;).
Cornelius
Cornelius, the animated rubber ducky and indispensable man-servant, was having quite the night. Since the unheralded arrival of Reginald Hoyle and his injured sister, as well as the group that accompanied them, plus the further appearance of Ms. Blasko, her resurrected beau, and the rag-tag band that had been in her company, and the red-haired demonhost whom he had just escorted in, the Anima had enjoyed little respite. As he floated along, tending to this or that, he felt fortunate that his rubbery state did not allow him to perspire: one of the few advantages of being a waterfowl-shaped bath toy.
He was just about to offer directions to the bed chambers for Master Atticus and his voracious vampire companion, when Cornelius’ small black eyes caught sight of a pair entering through the main archway. Being the superb servant that he was, he knew that a new agent for the company was to arrive this evening, a fallen angel by the name of Gabriel. What Cornelius did not expect however, was the woman that accompanied him.
Lady Wilde!
Cornelius’ first instinct was to fly off to retrieve Lord Bain at once. Lord Bain had only spoken of loving one person in the whole of the world and in the entirety of his long life, and here she now stood. Cornelius had still been human the last time he had seen Lady Wilde, and after the events of that night, in this very castle, he had never expected to see her again.
Torn with indecision, Cornelius faltered in place, floating this way and that. His duty to Lord Bain wrestling mightily with the knowledge that such a reunion might be the worse for all those that filled the great room. Mercifully, in the end Lady Wilde made the decision for him, as she bade farewell to the angel, and slipped away as if she had been merely an apparition supplanted in Cornelius’ mind.
Feeling both a sense of relief and disappointment, Cornelius drifted towards the entrance to greet and welcome the new arrival.
“Good evening, Mr. Lykis,” Cornelius dipped his yellow rubber head to the angel, “I am Cornelius, butler and servant to Lord Bain and Lord Hoyle. You are expected, and I must say that you have arrived at a most interesting of times.”
Cornelius spun in the air, and beckoned Gabe forward with a wave of a tiny wing. “Please, make yourself at home. There are refreshments by the window if you should so desire. Bedchambers and washrooms are through that archway…” He indicated with his wing again, “…and the private quarters of Lord Bain and Lord Hoyle are on the opposite side of the hall. Please do not venture into that wing unless you are directly invited.”
“I would introduce you to our other guests, but I must be off to see to Lord Bain and Lord Hoyle. They should be along shortly.”
With a final bow, Cornelius left Gabe, hoping that the eccentric group would not scare the angel into leaving before he had even begun.
Cornelius, the animated rubber ducky and indispensable man-servant, was having quite the night. Since the unheralded arrival of Reginald Hoyle and his injured sister, as well as the group that accompanied them, plus the further appearance of Ms. Blasko, her resurrected beau, and the rag-tag band that had been in her company, and the red-haired demonhost whom he had just escorted in, the Anima had enjoyed little respite. As he floated along, tending to this or that, he felt fortunate that his rubbery state did not allow him to perspire: one of the few advantages of being a waterfowl-shaped bath toy.
He was just about to offer directions to the bed chambers for Master Atticus and his voracious vampire companion, when Cornelius’ small black eyes caught sight of a pair entering through the main archway. Being the superb servant that he was, he knew that a new agent for the company was to arrive this evening, a fallen angel by the name of Gabriel. What Cornelius did not expect however, was the woman that accompanied him.
Lady Wilde!
Cornelius’ first instinct was to fly off to retrieve Lord Bain at once. Lord Bain had only spoken of loving one person in the whole of the world and in the entirety of his long life, and here she now stood. Cornelius had still been human the last time he had seen Lady Wilde, and after the events of that night, in this very castle, he had never expected to see her again.
Torn with indecision, Cornelius faltered in place, floating this way and that. His duty to Lord Bain wrestling mightily with the knowledge that such a reunion might be the worse for all those that filled the great room. Mercifully, in the end Lady Wilde made the decision for him, as she bade farewell to the angel, and slipped away as if she had been merely an apparition supplanted in Cornelius’ mind.
Feeling both a sense of relief and disappointment, Cornelius drifted towards the entrance to greet and welcome the new arrival.
“Good evening, Mr. Lykis,” Cornelius dipped his yellow rubber head to the angel, “I am Cornelius, butler and servant to Lord Bain and Lord Hoyle. You are expected, and I must say that you have arrived at a most interesting of times.”
Cornelius spun in the air, and beckoned Gabe forward with a wave of a tiny wing. “Please, make yourself at home. There are refreshments by the window if you should so desire. Bedchambers and washrooms are through that archway…” He indicated with his wing again, “…and the private quarters of Lord Bain and Lord Hoyle are on the opposite side of the hall. Please do not venture into that wing unless you are directly invited.”
“I would introduce you to our other guests, but I must be off to see to Lord Bain and Lord Hoyle. They should be along shortly.”
With a final bow, Cornelius left Gabe, hoping that the eccentric group would not scare the angel into leaving before he had even begun.
The New Yorker said
How many people are in this parlor?
Well, instead of a parlor, think of it like a castle's great room. It has several large fire-places, vaulted ceilings, tapestries, expansive wood floors, etc. It has a lot of plush, old-world style furniture and a well appointed food and drink table placed beneath one of the main features of the room: a massive half circle, lead pane window.
As for the number of people, If my counting fingers are correct, 10.
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