One of my characters had gotten abducted by a demon for a tea party, retuned a moment later, seven years older and no memories of what happened.
Expendable Member
...what falls from the skies is not the rain...
STATUS: Lots of ideas, voices in your head? You may not be schizo, just need to find a plot and start writing. 9 days ago
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Lots of ideas, voices in your head? You may not be schizo, just need to find a plot and start writing.
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11 days ago
Movie Studios don't use AI to generate scripts because they're not copywritable. My writing is mine, not the world's to play with.
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12 days ago
I've no idea what is meant by everyone being a "southern cowboy".
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29 days ago
I like that the Amish gives their kids a chance to decide if they want to stay in their parent's religion.
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2 mos ago
"Badgers?" he said, sweating as he heard gun hammers being cocked unseen behind him. "We ain’t got no badgers. We don’t need no badgers. I don’t have to show you any stinkin' badgers!"
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Bio
I am a seven-foot tall minecraft-playing hindu guru drag-queen alien.
Possessor of an Ancient Device™ Model 17. No, I don't know what it does. No, you can't play with it.
Pronouns: It. As in: "What is it? What does it want? Why is it here? Oh my god, it's got my... <insert random body part or object here>"
Likes: World Domination, Writing, Rpg, scifi/fantasy, anime, sketchup 3d models, and anime music videos.
Companions: a host of characters from other games, my personal muse Penny (as in Bad), and the Badger gang - Toothpick, Buttons, Shark, and Mongo. They grew up in the balcony of an old theatre that played a lot of gangster movies. Normally benign, but may invade the OOC forums.
Possessor of an Ancient Device™ Model 17. No, I don't know what it does. No, you can't play with it.
Pronouns: It. As in: "What is it? What does it want? Why is it here? Oh my god, it's got my... <insert random body part or object here>"
Likes: World Domination, Writing, Rpg, scifi/fantasy, anime, sketchup 3d models, and anime music videos.
Companions: a host of characters from other games, my personal muse Penny (as in Bad), and the Badger gang - Toothpick, Buttons, Shark, and Mongo. They grew up in the balcony of an old theatre that played a lot of gangster movies. Normally benign, but may invade the OOC forums.
Most Recent Posts
A few changes from the original concept. I'm assuming there's firearms in this.
This is quite the detailed character sheet, it's taking me some time to fill it out.
@Expendable
By the way, glad I'm not the only Grrl Power aficionado around here.
Sydney, what's not to like? Yes, one must always expect ninjas.
Painting an unfamiliar place can be hard, too.
Jack Mallory, X.O.
"Wodan," Jack asks, an idea stirring in his mind, "Are you analyzing this music? Do you think you can bring up the ship's entertainment database and find something close to this style of music?"
The Ascendancy valued skills. Did they value music as well?
There was, of course, risks. What if they had some restriction in how music was to be played? Might they see their music to be a heresy? Especially if they could not see any musicians?
"I wish the autofacs were up," Jack sighs. "It would be interesting to see the locals reaction to a hand-cranked music box."
They could break out one of the projectors and show movies... but that might make Silbermine want them all the more.
How long she laid in her casket, Cian didn't know. There was always the thirst, made worse by the ever present drain that left her unable to move in the slightest. From time to time, animal's blood would drip into her mouth, providing brief relief but without the essence, and never enough to satisfy.
And then one day, something else dripped in her mouth, cold, wet, cloying, with a flavor she hadn't had since... since...
Wordless agony ripped through her as her body cramped against this vile, disgusting fluid, this... milk?! And yet there was nothing she could do, frozen, as it continued to drip into her mouth!
Yet in the midst of this torture, her tongue picked up a hint, a bare trace of the essence she hadn't tasted in ages...! Human blood.
The iron lid of her casket protested as it was pushed away, and she could feel her strength starting to return. Opening her eyes in the torchlight, she could see three human faces peering down at her. The ever-present thirst roared in her and she latched onto the nearest throat...
Something bit her. By reflex, she grabbed it, coming face to face with a rat. Instinct took over as she bit it, ignoring its anguished squeal, and began feeding. Sitting up, she took in the dim room and the other rats.
"This... isn't the crypt," she muttered, wringing its neck before tossing the rat away and catching the next one. All their eyes were on her, watching despite themselves as she broke the neck of the second before tossing it at the first, then reaching for the the next to feed on.
In the dim light, Cian examined the door. This had to be one of the doors down from the punishment room underneath Mor's house, what the staff whispered were the cells. It wasn't much, a mattress stuffed with straw, a bucket in the corner, and a sturdy door bolted on the other side. Had she not been wearing the necklace bearing the seal of the Dead God, she might have easily battered it down, fortified as she were with human and rat blood.
"Does she really think I would turn one of the girls...?" the vampire said softly, shaking her head. It was clear Mor wasn't going to let her out until she was ready. But she needed no mirror to know she and her leathers were caked with filth.
"Attendant!" Cian calls out, banging on the door. "Attendant! I need a bath! Lots of hot water! Soap! My box with the combs and brushes! Attendant! Where are you?"
It may have been hours or days, she couldn't be sure, when something heavy rolled past outside the door before stopping. The flap at the bottom of the door was unbolted and latched up.
"Bucket," orders the man on the other side.
"Attendant! Where have you been?" Cian demands. "I called for a bath hours..."
The flap slams shut then bolted.
"Where are you going?" Cian demands angrily. "I told you I need a bath! Clean clothes! My combs and brushes...!"
The cart rolls on.
The next time the flap opens, she wordlessly passes through the bucket and the dead rats. The empty bucket was slid back, then she got a small jug of water and a cracked bowl with a hunk of coarse bread and a lump of hard cheese. Cian scowls at the vile lump, then sets it aside on the floor, waiting for the next rat to show up.
Let Mor play her games.
She'd lost count of the times the flap opened, but this time only two rats crawled through the crack in the wall and were mesmerized. After draining the first, Cian studies the second one, a gravid female, before placing it on the floor and gave it a kick to the rump. It wakes up with a squeal and darts for the crack. Fetching the lump of moldering cheese, she shoves it in the crack after it.
"Go have babies," she orders. "I grow thirs..."
Sleep.
Cian's eyes roll up and she falls to the floor, unmoving.
There was buzzing, like some fly near her ear. Cian's hand jerked, but the buzzing continues. She scowls as consciousness slowly returns. This wasn't buzzing, this was words...!
She bolts upright, hearing the jangling of her necklace.
There were others around her, stirring like she had been, but her eyes were on the woman.
"Who are you?" she demands. "Where is Mor? Do you know how long I've been waiting for a...."
Be silent.
To the vampire's horror, her mouth clamps shut. Her hands fly to her face, but she couldn't open her mouth! Cian stares with horror at the woman standing there.
And then one day, something else dripped in her mouth, cold, wet, cloying, with a flavor she hadn't had since... since...
Wordless agony ripped through her as her body cramped against this vile, disgusting fluid, this... milk?! And yet there was nothing she could do, frozen, as it continued to drip into her mouth!
Yet in the midst of this torture, her tongue picked up a hint, a bare trace of the essence she hadn't tasted in ages...! Human blood.
The iron lid of her casket protested as it was pushed away, and she could feel her strength starting to return. Opening her eyes in the torchlight, she could see three human faces peering down at her. The ever-present thirst roared in her and she latched onto the nearest throat...
Something bit her. By reflex, she grabbed it, coming face to face with a rat. Instinct took over as she bit it, ignoring its anguished squeal, and began feeding. Sitting up, she took in the dim room and the other rats.
"This... isn't the crypt," she muttered, wringing its neck before tossing the rat away and catching the next one. All their eyes were on her, watching despite themselves as she broke the neck of the second before tossing it at the first, then reaching for the the next to feed on.
In the dim light, Cian examined the door. This had to be one of the doors down from the punishment room underneath Mor's house, what the staff whispered were the cells. It wasn't much, a mattress stuffed with straw, a bucket in the corner, and a sturdy door bolted on the other side. Had she not been wearing the necklace bearing the seal of the Dead God, she might have easily battered it down, fortified as she were with human and rat blood.
"Does she really think I would turn one of the girls...?" the vampire said softly, shaking her head. It was clear Mor wasn't going to let her out until she was ready. But she needed no mirror to know she and her leathers were caked with filth.
"Attendant!" Cian calls out, banging on the door. "Attendant! I need a bath! Lots of hot water! Soap! My box with the combs and brushes! Attendant! Where are you?"
It may have been hours or days, she couldn't be sure, when something heavy rolled past outside the door before stopping. The flap at the bottom of the door was unbolted and latched up.
"Bucket," orders the man on the other side.
"Attendant! Where have you been?" Cian demands. "I called for a bath hours..."
The flap slams shut then bolted.
"Where are you going?" Cian demands angrily. "I told you I need a bath! Clean clothes! My combs and brushes...!"
The cart rolls on.
The next time the flap opens, she wordlessly passes through the bucket and the dead rats. The empty bucket was slid back, then she got a small jug of water and a cracked bowl with a hunk of coarse bread and a lump of hard cheese. Cian scowls at the vile lump, then sets it aside on the floor, waiting for the next rat to show up.
Let Mor play her games.
She'd lost count of the times the flap opened, but this time only two rats crawled through the crack in the wall and were mesmerized. After draining the first, Cian studies the second one, a gravid female, before placing it on the floor and gave it a kick to the rump. It wakes up with a squeal and darts for the crack. Fetching the lump of moldering cheese, she shoves it in the crack after it.
"Go have babies," she orders. "I grow thirs..."
Sleep.
Cian's eyes roll up and she falls to the floor, unmoving.
There was buzzing, like some fly near her ear. Cian's hand jerked, but the buzzing continues. She scowls as consciousness slowly returns. This wasn't buzzing, this was words...!
She bolts upright, hearing the jangling of her necklace.
There were others around her, stirring like she had been, but her eyes were on the woman.
"Who are you?" she demands. "Where is Mor? Do you know how long I've been waiting for a...."
Be silent.
To the vampire's horror, her mouth clamps shut. Her hands fly to her face, but she couldn't open her mouth! Cian stares with horror at the woman standing there.
@Red Wizard
So, I'm going to assume she's in a very basic cell - solid stone or masonry walls, stout hardwood door with iron straps and bolts, a flap to pass things through, possibly a grill or a slot in the door for talking? A straw mattress for sleeping, perhaps a bed frame or just a wooden shelf built much like the door that it rests on? A bucket in the corner for relieving oneself? Perhaps a spy hole?
Or is this one of your fancy cells?
So, I'm going to assume she's in a very basic cell - solid stone or masonry walls, stout hardwood door with iron straps and bolts, a flap to pass things through, possibly a grill or a slot in the door for talking? A straw mattress for sleeping, perhaps a bed frame or just a wooden shelf built much like the door that it rests on? A bucket in the corner for relieving oneself? Perhaps a spy hole?
Or is this one of your fancy cells?
Cian was brought here from the crypt. Has she just arrived, or has she been here a while? She may need some freshing up.
And not just the dried blood. The warden may want to stay upwind.
And not just the dried blood. The warden may want to stay upwind.
When raising the dead, please remember Cian's morning begins after sunset.
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