DELETED32084

California Love -- An L.A. 90's Crime RP

@RavensMuse If you want to be part of the main storyline, I would suggest a cop or a ganger/corrupt cop who had ties to Gaines and is now worried about being found out.

The Vampire princes

((Approved by @Vampiretwilight))

Edward gasped as the blade flashed in the light and cut the Ghoul down where it stood, Emily tumbling away into a corner. He hissed and snarled, that was his friend that had just been slaughtered like a goat. His eyes flashed red in the dim light of the hut and he took stock of his opponent. It was a tall human, broad in the shoulders and utterly without fear in the face of an Undead Princling.

He began his approach carefully, eyeing the human carefully. Suddenly the man lunged and Edward dodged but there was not enough space for any movement as he slammed into the wall causing the whole structure to shake violently. Small pieces of dust and debris cascaded down from the roof above. A sharp searing pain in his right arm and saw the Hunters sword flash, blood on the edge and his skin smelt of burning. A silver blade!

Edward lashed out with his own blade and the human parried it with the stake he carried, the Vampires blade severing the silver tip, the small glittering piece cartwheeling through the air to fall to the floor. The human hammered a foot forward again, driving his blade for Edwards heart, the silver sword glittering in the small light of the dying fire. Edward desperately tried to turn the blade but both combatants were hampered by the size of the small hovel and Emily at their feet. The silver blade drove deep into his shoulder and he felt a pain like nothing he had experienced before. His fingers that held the sword went slack and the blade dropped from his hand to the floor. Nerves had been severed. He gave a hearty roar and struck out with his free hand.

The blow struck Solomon full in the chest and the power of the strike sent him across the small space and into the wall, which burst under the weight of his body. He bounced once and came to a stop in the dark, wet grass. He gasped for air, desperately trying to draw a breath and he struggled to one knee. His chest was tight. Something was broken. He staggered back to his feet, his vision wavering as he took an unsteady step toward the hovel. Through the hole in the wall be saw the Vampire seize the girl with its one good hand and sling her over its shoulder. It stepped into the night, sword forgotten on the ground behind it, one arm hanging useless at its side.

The Vampire made for its horse but even in his shocked state, Solomon had a final trick up his sleeve. He rushed into the hovel and took up his crossbow from where it lay against the only undamaged wall. In two strides he was outside, leveled the weapon, and shot the Vampires horse as Edward tried to toss Emily across the saddle. The unfortunate creature gave a piteous scream and collapsed into the grass.

Edward snarled at Solomon who had frantically began to reload the crossbow. Edward paid him no further attention however and quickly picked Emily up again before turning and vanishing into the dark. Solomon waited a short time and then sagged to the ground, the pain in his chest was spreading. He was dying.

Painfully he dragged himself back into the Holy Circle he had spun and there, covered in dust, dew, and shattered masonry, he clutched at the crucifix about his neck. He began to pray. He prayed for life.

California Love -- An L.A. 90's Crime RP

@RavensMuseYes indeed. Put a CS together and let us see what you’ve got!

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

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Salisbury - September 1960
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Anna Politkovskaya strolled through the streets of Salisbury, her eyes devouring the items for sale in the windows of the stores that lined either side of the main boulevard. It was nothing like what she had seen back home, no stores with great fur jackets, no cobbler offering custom winter boots, no barred windows boasting cheap gun sales. It couldn't have been more alien to her and the last two months had done very little to lessen her amazement.

The streets were remarkably clean. The Rhodesians took such things quite seriously and waste bins sat on every corner to be emptied regularly by city workers. Potholes were filled with black asphalt and she recalled a conversation with one of the government officials she had met. "Tidiness breeds happiness and productivity. Let no one say Rhodesia is a bad place to live."

The words were echoing in her head as she stopped in front of one tall window that displayed a series of dresses known locally as a "sonrok", which literally translated to "sun dress" in english. They were knee length, always colourful, and very popular among the younger generation no matter their skin colour. She had been eyeing a particular yellow one for the better part of a month now and with her first pay cheque in her pocket she was going to purchase it. It would be her first luxury purchase since she had arrived and she was very excited.

"Anna!" The shout came from across the street and she turned to see Natalya Esterniova, her best friend and fellow Russian immigrant, waving at her. Natalya carefully looked both ways before hurrying across the street. Automobiles were common enough to make walking out into the street without looking quite hazardous. The two women embraced and exchanged greetings.

"Finally going to do it?" Natalya's eyes gleamed with excitement. She to had just gotten her first government pay cheque as well, spending a portion of it on a new sun hat to try and ward off the sunburn she seemed to suffer from every day.

"Yes! I want to look like I belong here!"

"Then what are we waiting for?" Natalya laughed and took Anna by the hand, leading her into the store. A small bell tinkled as they stepped through the door. Bolts of cloth covered one wall, completed product the other, the middle of the floor was open with small stools for customers to be fitted. Tall mirrors stood everywhere so that Anna found herself staring at a dozen of herself.

"Welcome to Salisbury Tailors, ladies." A friendly voice spoke from behind a nearby screen and a tall thin black man stepped into view. Anna felt a flash of recognition as the man smiled at her. "Doctor Politkovskaya! Welcome to my humble shop!"

In an instant he was around the counter and shaking her heartily by the hand. His grip was firm, his gaze frank, and his welcome genuine. She felt a flush in her face as she realized she could not remember his name. He sensed her hesitation and smiled even more broadly.

"I am Aneni. You saved the feet of my daughter, Wataida. She was blown up by the terrorists in August and brought to you for care. She is learning to walk again. I thank you." He pressed his forehead to her hand and in a moment it all came rushing back to her.

The Peoples Army of Zimbabwe had stuck a bomb onto a commuter bus in Salisbury a few weeks after she had arrived in the city. The blast had killed sixteen people and wounded thirty more, including six year old Wataida. The young girl had been rushed to the hospital where the emergency room doctor had stated he could not save her damaged feet and he would have to amputate. Lucky for Wataida, Anna had been on duty and heard of the story. She had hurried to the emergency room where she found the sobbing girl and devastated family. Anna had spoken quietly and firmly to them, assuring them that she would do what she could for the girl. They had said they had no money to pay for the operation but Anna stated she would do the operation for free.

Seven hours later an exhausted Anna had told the worried parents that Wataida would be able to walk again if they took proper care of her. She had searched the hospital over for some crutches for the girl and even threatened a stubborn white nurse with firing if she didn't hand them over when the woman realized they would be going to a black patient. The nurse had complained to the hospital director who had simply shrugged and waved her away. He had more pressing problems to deal with.

"Because of you, my daughter will run and dance again. There is no greater gift a man can receive." Aneni had continued to praise Anna and she tried to brush it off.

"I was only doing my job, Mr Aneni. I am sure anyone else could have done it."

"Yes, but would they have done it?" He replied calmly, his eyes searching hers carefully. She knew, in her heart, that he was right. Racism was alive in well in Rhodesia, nowhere more so than when it came to whites treating blacks in the hospitals. Anna had refused to be a part of the problem and even a few months later her reputation for unbiased care had earned her recognition from the hospital administrators.

"You could have simply walked away, but you did not." Aneni's face was serious now and she could see a tear glimmering at the edge of his vision. "You are a good woman. And I will never forget it." His face brightened again. "My store is open to you. What did you wish to see."

Natalya, who had remained quiet throughout the entire event, smiled at the interaction. Truth be told, she found the blacks intimidating and strange. She knew she was guilty of bias against them through lack of education rather than any birthright and she had been working hard to emulate Anna's open minded approach.

"She loves that yellow sonrok in your front window. Been eyeing it for weeks!"

"Ah, an excellent choice! Let me fetch it for you." Aneni hurried to the front of the store while Anna struggled with her emotions. She felt a strange sense of accomplishment, and a good deal of pride as well. She had made a difference here.

"Yes, this one, it will suit you very well." Aneni was back as quickly as he had left and he held it up in front of her. There was no fancy pattern, just a very gentle yellow tone and she loved it.

"Please, try it on." Aneni pulled a screen around Anna and she quickly changed. Aneni and Natalya chattered beyond the screen about the city and how different it was from Russia. It was a conversation they had had locals a hundred times before. The stories of snow and freezing winters never failed to amaze and horrify the Africans.

She flattened out the dress and knew, as she stared at her reflection, that she had made the right choice. The dress was beautiful. She stepped out from behind the screen to face the others. Natalya sighed enviously and Aneni clapped his hands together in delight.

"Oh yes. It is you, Doctor. Simply lovely, it would make my wife jealous to know I have seen you in it." Again Anna only detected honesty in the mans tone and did a small spin. She loved it.

"How much is it?" She asked. She had thirty pound in her wallet, far more than she knew she would need, but there were other purchases to make that day.

"For the person who saved my little Wataida? For the Doctor who showed us compassion in our darkest hour? For the woman who gave my family our angel back? Not a pence will I take. It is my gift of thanks to you." Aneni was smiling again and he held up a hand to stop her speaking. For a moment he struggled with words and then, surprisingly, stepped forward and took her hands in his. Deep brown eyes stared into bright blue. His grip was firm but warm.

"Doctor. There is never going to be enough dresses in the world for my family and I to properly thank you for the kindness you showed us that day. Many have come before us who did not have someone like you to care for them and they will never walk again, never dance again, never know the joy of running across the great plains. And I know we are not the only ones you have shown such kindness to."

Anna thought back over the past month, thinking of all the people she had treated. She knew that she was being given most of the black patients. The other podiatrist refused to treat them. More than a thousand people had come through her small, hot, office in the hospital since her arrival. She had never denied anyone care.

"You will always be welcome among my family."

Anna left the store twenty minutes later wearing her yellow sonrok. She was deep in thought as she made her way down the sidewalk, only brought back to awareness by Natalya who put a hand on her arm to get her attention.

"What that man said is true." Natalya had an odd look on her face and it took Anna a moment to realize that she was staring at someone who admired her. "You are a great person, Anna, and I will be like you. This is my home too and I must work to make it so. If you ever need a nurse to assist you, please do not hesitate to call me. We come from a land torn by violence and hatred. I will not let it be so here. I will be the change I wish to see in the world."

Anna hugged her friend. They were home.

Rise of Heroes

"Roderick, come with me!" Father Gerwig roared the words as he stumbled through the Chapel, bottle of only Sigmar knew what in one hand, and a dagger in the other. Roderick, who was in the middle of sweeping the aisle between the pews stared dumbfounded at the man. Gerwig hadn't been out of his bed for nearly a week now, drinking everything he could lay his hands on since the enemy siege gun had begun firing.

Roderick leaned his broom against the chapel wall and, with a quick bow to the altar of Sigmar, he hurried after the older man out into the cold drizzle of the late afternoon. The bell above him no longer tolled and he could see the helmets of the assembled townsfolk and garrison on the high walls above. They were all silent as they stared across the marsh lands toward the enemy.

Gerwig led him up a set of stone stairs made slick by the rain so that he stumbled and nearly slipped into the mud below. He only managed to save himself by grabbing onto the cloak of a man on the wall who cursed him out and yanked the cloth away. Roderick made small apologies and stumbled again on the top step, almost crashing into Father Gerwig who had found a place at the wall. Roderick glanced around but no one was paying them any mind, all eyes were fixed on a thin figure standing nearby, a crossbow aimed flat across the parapet. The archers hair was long and fell like black velvet to the small curve of the back, extenuating the flair of a very feminine set of buttocks. The blue dress that the archer wore fitted well enough to confirm that it was indeed a woman, a woman they had all come to call the Blackbird.

Her real name was Maria Fosdick, she was the only child of a merchant couple who had died of the plague some years before. They had left her their estates and a fine house by the river. The arrival of the Hochland forces had seen to the destruction of all of her property beyond the walls and she now sought to take some form of revenge against her detractors by firing at them from the walls. At this very moment she was taking aim at a tall man with a large plume on the top of his helmet. She closed her eyes as she squeezed the trigger and the crossbow gave a satisfying "click" as the bolt hurtled across the empty ground between the town walls and the besiegers.

It buried itself in the earth just short of the man but caused him to jump back in surprise, causing a roar of jeers and catcalls from the defenders who lined the walls. He shook his fist and then turned to yell back toward his own lines. At that moment Gerwig leapt up onto the battlements, bottle disappeared somewhere, and began to scream curses at the enemy lines.

Roderick wasn't sure what drew his eye but at that moment he saw several bales of hay being dragged aside and the muzzle of a cannon seemed to be pointed directly at him. He opened his mouth to shout a warning but in that instant flame erupted from the cannon muzzle.

His world exploded into a mixture of dust, flying stone, tumbling weapons, and screaming bodies. The blast heaved him off the wall and tossed him like some ragged thing into the muddy roadway beneath the wall. It was this mud that probably saved him from injury as it cushioned his fall. He hit the ground with a heavy "splat", mud sloping itself across his face and robes. His ears were ringing, something he had never experienced before, and he tried banging on the side of his head to make it stop.

Something clawed at his sleeve and he jerked in surprise, turning to find himself staring into Father Gerwigs face, a face blanched of all colour. The old priest wasn't looking at him, but at the chapel behind them. He was shouting and pointing. Roderick could just make out at the words "The Book!".

Roderick followed his gaze and saw to his horror that flames were shooting up from the chapel. He staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the building, staggering on his overly long robes, tripping on a corpse to fall face first in the mud. Through sheer will be managed to clamber to his feet again and rushed to the door. The flames had already engulfed the sleeping quarters and were now devouring the roofbeams.

His gaze went instantly to the altar where the Book of Sigmar sat beneath the silver hammer. It glinted in the fire light, its ancient leather pages a strange reddish colour. Without a further thought he plunged into the heat, holding a sleeve to his face as the smoke tried to choke his lungs. He grabbed the heavy book and then, with a last glance toward his bed chamber, he also grabbed the silver hammer.

He burst back into the clear air, greedily drinking in great gasping breaths before doubling over in a coughing fit. Behind him the chapel gave a rumbling sigh and the roof caved in, sending sparks and smoke billowing into the sky. He gazed up at the pillar as it rose into the heavens, mixing with the grey rainclouds until it vanished. Rain drops hissed on the fire, sizzling with some angry energy and he looked down at the Book and hammer in his hands.

Roderick knew Father Gerwig was dead before he returned to him. He could see that the mans belly had been eviscerated by the cannonball, or the stones thrown up by it. The old face, oddly enough, finally looked as if it were at peace. As he knelt in the rain next to the body, Roderick realized that he didn't really know anything about Gerwig. They had never really spoken and the old man had always done his best to shield Roderick from the true evils of the world. He wouldn't be able to do that anymore.

The Vampire princes

The deep night had fallen, not a sound disturbed the moor save for the beat of a ravens wings. To Solomon it was both a curse and a blessing. Nighttime was vampire time and it was only his faith in the wards that he had laid that allowed him to doze even fitfully. Even this was disturbed when, near the early hours of the morning, he heard the sound of hooves, and the soft knicker of his horse. Someone was coming.

He glanced quickly around the hovel. He rose swiftly and pushed together a small heap of sticks and other wooden debris that has been left by the previous inhabitants. He sprinkled fire dust on the pile and sparked it to life. A bright white flash and then a small fire was burning on the floor. It was not much, but it was enough to illuminate the space. He returned to his place by the wall and leaned back again, sword in one hand, another resting on a small collection of globes carrying holy water. He waited.

The ghoul, or whatever it was, slipped soundlessly into the hovel through its only entrance, it was a hovel after all. Solomon, still leaning against the wall, watched the creature through hooded eyes from beneath the brim of his hat and had to resist the urge to snort in derision as it tiptoed toward the prostrate form of Emily. The wardings he had placed around him so carefully the night before easily illuminated the ghoul in a soft golden glow, though it did not prevent the undead creature from throwing a deep shadow over whatever it passed across.

His hand was already resting on the hilt of his sword, the silver inlay ideal for killing a vampire, but this was a ghoul. A common creature he had faced countless times. Not that it mattered really, every creature, no matter how evil, could not survive its head being hacked off. Except trolls. Those were trickier, thankfully they were as dumb as fence posts.

Solomon waited as the ghoul crept further into the hut, almost comically slow as it went. He had been preparing to attack the thing when it occurred to him that there was only one reason why it was so interested in Emily and not him. Edward was nearby. He could wait.

The ghoul gathered up Emily in its arms and began to move quickly toward the door now, making small noises, and for an instant Solomon was concerned that he had waited to long and sprang to his feet. At that instant Edward himself burst through the door with a snarl, shattering what little wood remained like an enraged bull, crashing head first into the ghoul. The creature reeled back, dropping Emily as it did so.

Solomon wasted not a moment and swept his longsword out, hacking the ghouls head from its shoulders. The body crumpled to the floor even as he whipped out a small globe of holy water and hurled it onto the corpse. The creature, whatever it was, began to smoke and shrivel at once, burning with the righteous fury of God. The small fire that Solomon had lit was beginning to burn low.

Vampire Prince and Vampire Hunter faced each other across the small dirt floor, Emily between them, her muffled cries coming from within the cloak. Edwards claws were still red from his battle with the Vampire Hunters, his clothes sodden with the nighttime dew, and anger raced across his features. With a start, Solomon realized that the undead fool might actually love the girl at his feet. Someone had clearly never explained to him that she was going to die long before he was. No matter. They would both die now.

"Prince Edward! Welcome! So nice of you to join us!" Solomon crowed as he drew a wooden stake from his belt, silver glinting on the tip. He took a step forward and drove his sword toward the Vampire.

California Love -- An L.A. 90's Crime RP

@Eviledd1984 Damn right!

The Vampire princes

Solomon rode hard and fast across the moors, pausing only long enough to strip Emily's clothes from her body and toss them into a stream before wrapping her in his cloak which was neatly inlaid with delicate pockets of garlic. Even if the blood sucking scum could track, which there was no mention of them being able to do so, they would be unable to continue the pursuit. Bloodhounds might find the clothes and try to track with them but open country was the worst place for such beasts as the wind would blow any scent far to the south, away from Solomons route. Only a Hellhound might have a chance but he had killed the last one rumoured to be alive a year ago.

He stopped only when the horse could go no further that night. Taking refuge in a small hovel that had been abandoned god knows when. Securing Emilys hands and feet so that she could not run, he stepped out into the gathering darkness and began to prepare his hiding place. Using several small items from his bag he laid a groundwork of holy symbols that would both protect him from evil, and more importantly, cloak him from their sight. One did not become Solomon Kane without some tricks up his sleeve and God on his side. He ensured that the horse was secure inside the protective boundary as well and collected an armload of forage from the abandoned fields. The horse whickered softly and nuzzled his hand before chowing down. He gave the strong neck a heavy pat and brushed the creature as best he would with no comb.

Returning to the hovel he found Emily was awake and kicking at her bonds. She stopped as soon as he came in and fixed him with a hateful stare. She looked beautiful even with nothing but a shift on, the white cloth now stained with dirt and horse sweat. He felt a familiar urge in his loins and began to debate the merits of taking her right there on the dirt floor.

"Do you have any idea who I am?!" She demanded in a petulant, almost childlike tone. He sighed. He hated chatty captives.

"Yes, you matter to Prince Eddie." Solomon replied as he sat, leaning back against the side of the hovel. He would not light a fire, the symbols might protect him from rampaging evil but they did nothing to hide the smell of woodsmoke once it had travelled beyond the circle. "And that, my dear, is good enough for me."

"There will by war if you don't release me! My father is the King!"

"Is he!?" Solomon's eyes lit up. "Well, isn't that convenient. I was hoping to start a little war and maybe your daddy can wipe out Edward and his ilk for me."

He was rather taken by the idea and the girl had fallen deathly quiet at the horrible smile that had crossed his features. She looked afraid now. Perhaps some small piece of his true identity had leaked through and that cheered him slightly.

Maybe he still had it after all.

"My father..." She started again at last and he snapped forward so quickly she gasped, his face inches from hers, his eyes gleaming.

"Your father will do what he his told if he wants you back... unspoiled..." He ran a hand up between her legs and then chuckled as she tried to kick him away. "Now, now. You're worth more to me alive and unspoiled than not, but I promise I will kill you if I have to, and only after I have violated you in every way imaginable."

The blood had drained from her face and curled into a ball, hands tied behind her back, knees and ankles similarly disadvantaged. She was helpless and she knew it. "Who are you...?" She whispered the words.

"Now isn't that a question." He stated flatly before leaning back again. "Oh!" He sat forward again. "Can't have you making any noise."

Before she could resist he had jammed a wad of cloth into her mouth. She tried to spit it out but failed, sagging onto the dirt floor with muted sobs.

"There, there, try to stay quiet. Old William Chaucer will keep you warm." He pulled the heavy cloak over her for some sort of warmth. "I've got you." He said as he patted her head.

He leaned back and settled his shoulder against the stone. He would doze perhaps, but sleep was out of the question. He needed to be alert. He was certain Edward would come, and that suited him just fine.

California Love -- An L.A. 90's Crime RP

Sorry, double post. Also added a zeroth post to the OOC with a "Quick notes". Please review!



Bonus points toward nothing in particular if you can name this movie.

California Love -- An L.A. 90's Crime RP