Fallenreaper

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Fallenreaper said
Me- Aramir, Annabeth
Rtron- Grey (?), Mar (you think she would've learned from last time),
Lucius-Alaria(?), Darius

Sidelined:
Khan (Likely 2/5 demons), Lyn (least maybe...)

Keeping this out front.

EliteCommander said
I'm writing something now. What month (and specifically season) is it?

Spring, two months after the winter hell event.

Essence of the World: The New Age [CLOSED]

West Heights Apartments, Kenan.

Emmet was submerged, his shirtless torso dipped completely into a large glass tank overfilled past the brim with water. The gloved hands of three men, two humans and another demon, held him firmly there. His lungs burned desperately for air causing him to buck and jerk himself free. It was merely a waste of energy as the men were far stronger than his twenty year old body had been at the time, namely after two days of starving in utter darkness in a filthy hole in the ground. Their fingers wrapped tightly whenever he moved until their grasp was hard enough to leave more bruises behind. Then he heard the hollow thumps of Darius’s footsteps which approached the small group. Emmet’s panic surged through him, redoubling his efforts for freedom. Beyond the distorted water’s surface, he saw the kitsune’s face peer overhead. In his hands was an obscured dark creature, it’s lengthy and thick body wrapped about the extended glove ends which also covered Darius’s arms. Protecting him. He didn’t wear his suit but had on just a plain white button shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, not willing to allow another to step in for his role as teacher in this painful lesson. To Emmet, this was evidence Darius chose to do his own dirty work from time to time. Most often it felt his favorite student was none other than Emmet himself.

“Tsk, tsk. I have to say, I’m disappointed in your tactics. Oh well, consider this your lesson and a warning.” Darius voice took on a tone like a parent chiding a troublesome child. Without farther words, he dropped the eel into the water.

A current jolted through Emmet’s bare body the moment the animal’s thick body brushed him, his mouth opened in a bubbled cry. Air rushed from his lungs as water came in to replace it, choking him. His skeleton felt the fire burn within his flesh and his muscles spasm then clamped in on itself tightly. He couldn’t control the seizures that licked up and down his body, his senses darkened and dimmed in his water prison.

Emmet slammed his hand against the shower wall. A tingling, painful and blissfully real, raced through the contact point and up his arm. Golden hair plastered to his skull and dripped droplets from their tips, one by one. His fist hand settled in place, letting hot water pour over his body. The stream twisted and warped about him as if to protect and hide him from the outside world, something it could only do until the heated water ran out. Too bad its magic didn’t include the memories. The jaded past pressed at his closed eyes unable to block out the chill inside. That was only one of the many scars left behind in his life time. It gave him a reason to consider carefully each failure, unsuccessful escape and attempted murder he tried in the years which followed against Darius. And the reasons he had stopped altogether when they went wrong. Thankfully he was the one to suffer it all, his sister blissfully unaware and somehow, some way he would keep it that way for the rest of her life. His throat constricted when he considered Olivia could possibly have to endure such events one day. Reflexively his fingers dug farther into his palms until he could feel the skin being pierced and blood swelled from the wounds. It farther tinted his emotions, swirling him into darkness where there was little escape.

Faintly he wished all his memories would simply wash down the drain like the red tinted water and vanish from his mind just as quickly. Sadly, it was wishful thinking. He pressed his head upon the tile to steady his shivering body while the image was purged from his thoughts. He was foolish enough to think he could’ve outrun Darius’s grasp and escape unscratched. No…instead he ended up humiliated, starved, beaten, and electrocuted that day which compared to the future punishments, was easy to survive. He shook his head then twisted the water off before he reached around for his towel and hopped out. The effort had nearly brought him to his knees when the pain erupted through his back, lighting him on fire.

“Fuck…” Emmet whispered in a harsh curse.

His balance faltered, his hand hastily jerked outright and sought to balance himself. It was a desperate ploy to stay upright. The whole world seemed to tilt away from him causing his arm to crumble and give, his body slowly slouched against the smooth wall until everything stopped spinning. Somehow, not completely aware how, he had managed to prop himself against the hard wall where his knees became rests for his arms. It was hard not to just curl into a ball right there on the floor. Sometime along the way his stomach was hell bent on churning up what remained of his last meal, some fast food, until it came rushing up again. Within a few minutes, the violent turning in his middle had settled into a sour lump and the floor appeared to cease its wild bucking. Thankful he didn’t need to shout for Juan, he just sat there. He didn’t have much strength to deal with Juan’s flirts in this state or prevent him from sneaking a feel so he aimed not to invite the chance. Emmet had pushed his head backwards where he looked over at his clothes sitting on the toilet’s closed lid. He found it amusing he had just recent started to remember to put the seat down when Zi started to come over, maybe a result from having a female around more often than every other weekend with his sister. His was lucky Juan chose to avoid the apartment during Olivia’s visits because he lied enough as it was to her.

His courage seemed to have fled, a smart thing in the back of his mind, as he fought the fear at the idea of trying to stand. He inhaled cleansing breaths for several seconds before he forced himself back onto his feet. Emmet waited until the flood of blood rushing into his brain had stopped, his world once more set right and his strength returned out of pure stubbornness.

It took longer to get dress but Emmet finally finished slipping on his jeans then using the door frame, edged his way out. His voice was weak when he shouted. “Juan… I need a little help.”

It didn’t the demon anymore then second to appear. Still in his former attire, he stepped in close and took Emmet’s arm with surprising gentleness from the frame over his shoulder, taking most of Emmet’s weight. “You shouldn’t have bled all over the place. I told you that you lost too much blood! Never listen to me, do you hot stuff? Hope Zi likes the undead look.”

“Juan just fucking put me on the bed and get the kit. I don’t want Zi seeing me like this.”

“And you think the fact you can barely stand will go unnoticed?”

“Juan.” Emmet growled, his eyes lids heavy.

“Just saying, it’s likely we didn’t get all the venom out before the operation. A simple flush of your system and fresh blood will have you sorted out in a bit.” Juan gave his medical observation. Out of habit, his shoulder repositioned itself under his load causing Emmet’s face to crunch in pain from the movement. Juan looked like he was about to slink into a corner at Emmet’s reaction but was held firmly in place by the tightened grip. “Though you realize, you might have to cancel the date now. As well as someone else will have to pick up Olivia.”

Emmet’s expression was a heated glare at the demon as he was settled upon the bed. Juan, on the other hand, seemed have a smile linger on his lips at the suggestion before he pulled away. In moments Emmet watched Juan duck down to reach the boxes under the bed, his hand tugged one marked with a red cross then clicked it open. Wasting little time, he set aside an assortment of things: salve, two bandage rolls, tape, two clear thin tubes, a bag filled with a salt and water solution, and some butterfly needles into a neat pile. Then he turned to Emmet, his hand tied off the upper arm while he looked for an ideal vein. Emmet felt the first needle being inserted into him as Juan slipped a steel hook into the bag end, finishing up when he placed the item at a higher level to let gravity do its work. He placed the rest on the bedside table and headed into the kitchen. Emmet heard silence until the sound of the fridge opened then closed; his eyes caught Juan return with a red bag in hand, whistling a pleasant melody. Emmet knew it was from his emergency stash, harvested bit by bit over the years at Juan’s suggestion. It made going to an ER an absolute last option when a job went badly. There was also plasma stored in the same place within the fridge, hidden inside a lower, right drawer. The only bad part in the whole apartment was that there was only one place to keep everything cold. So after years of keeping his soda near several hanging blood bags he had filled, Emmet’s stomach had learned a measure of tolerance he never realize could be achieved.

Juan’s exotic cooking also helped in that area too.

There was a knock at the door once Juan had finished attaching the blood bag and positing it next to the IV bag. The sound made both boys turn their head, Emmet with anxiety and Juan merely curious. Without delaying for another knock, Juan motioned for Emmet, much to his annoyance, to stay lying on his stomach. Cautiously the demon moved toward the front door, his hand readied itself with a dim red glow while he twisted the knob and edged it open. All at once his stiff posture relaxed abruptly when he saw who it was.

Stargate - Alliances

Is it possible for the sight to be off before he shot or weapon malfuction/sabotage? There's always ways to work around IC, with little unexpected happenings or something outside the Character's control. Happens all the time in RL.

Stargate - Alliances

Kay is going to be so pissed off...

Stargate - Alliances

Joseph

Who is in heaven is driving this fucking thing?!?

Joseph mentally fumed when he shook away the sting of his landing, his feet had lost their footing when the ship suddenly shook. The abrupt movement and focus on readying himself had already knocked the air from his body and left him winded. His head lifted, unable to speak for several moments, as he spotted Niven braced in the doorway of the medical bay. When the anouncements were made, all doctors had scrambled to ready themselves, expecting a vast amount of wounded and injured to be pouring in at any moment. Widened eyed and motionless, Niven snapped out of his concern when he noticed Joseph had lost his footing. Both doctors gave each other a brief look. Wasting little time, Niven darted towards Joseph, his hand outreached to aid the man back to his feet. A small grateful smile flickered across Joseph’s creased face before he noted the first to arrive.

Everything seemed to be utter chaos at first. Bodies, both officers and civilian scientists, rushed about with wounded in the medical bay’s direction. Some had electric burns, their clothing singed to their flesh, while others had mere gashes or bruise which could’ve been walked off. Joseph noted a young man, a fire extinguisher held in hands, putting out a sparking console some length down the hall. The wires had caught fire and the victim was already on route to the rooms.

By the time Joseph was helped up, the chaos had already tampered off. Already many of the medics had shepherded the injured and dropped them off, their figures vanished back into the hallways to search for any stray wounded. Meanwhile, officers hastily rushed back to their earlier stations to pick any slack left. It would take hours to sort this mess out while Joseph took up scissors to cut away the fabric off an electric burned victim, her eyes brimmed in fear and clearly shaken. A tug of pity jarred Joseph’s heart to see it. In a gruff manner, he spoke to distract her while he worked.

“It’s just a mere burn, we’ll cut it free and bandage it then you need some rest.”

She looked up from her cradled arm, eyes brown as a black hole, to examine Joseph for several seconds. “It sure feels worse than some lousy burn.”

The woman seemed indignant at his tone but he merely shrugged it off, neither bothered to justify or excuse it. He could easily tell her nationality through her accent, Southern USA. Like him. He only continued, already her sleeve was completely off and ready to be bandaged. “It always seems that way when you’re injured.”

Once done, he passed her over to a nurse who promptly sought to deliver her into a medical bed. Joseph then went to the next patient. It would be several hours before two of the personnel came in, a sleek, black body bag slung between the pair. In that moment, Joseph had just finished up with another patient and turned on heel to where the bag was hauled onto an open bed. He had barely registered Dr. Niven beside, his figure shortly joined when he spotted Joseph move.

Joseph felt something twist within his middle like a creature, frightened and trapped inside. He knew the meaning of the body bag. A death and nothing good would come of it as his aged hand reached for the zipper, his forefinger and thumb grasped it firmly then pulled it back. His face, instinctively, paled when he saw her face. For the second time of that day, Ylva’s face hovered in his mind. Only this time, she was a deathly vision of her former self. Silence seemed to fall about those surrounding the corpse. It was broken by Joseph, who stepped away, reaching for a white cloth and placed upon Ylva’s face out of respect. Her eyes, wide open and possibly in pain, were shrouded from sight.

“First the living, then I’ll deal with the dead. Please put her in the morgue, namely in a cold unit, until I can do an autopsy.” Joseph said, his face turned to the two responsible for bring in the body. They nodded, wordless, and lifted the body toward the morgue while Joseph returned his focus on the living. Later, much later he would give Ylva the attention she rightly deserved.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Freeshooter92 said
No, you got Alaira and Grey flipped around.

Last I knew, you wanted Alaira to go after Demons. Lucius's mission hasn't any demons, but Rtron's has a demonomancer. Hence why I flipped them, either way I will change them back.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Konan375 said
No worries, and it was Lucius' mission that Darius is doing.

Thank you then for clearing that up so the listing is:

Me- Aramir, Annabeth
Rtron- Grey (?), Mar (you think she would've learned from last time),
Lucius-Alaria(?), Darius

Sidelined:
Khan (Likely 2/5 demons), Lyn (least maybe...)

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Konan375 said
Leith will probably do Rtron's mission, and I could see Darius doing the caravan escort.

Also, and correct me Konan, but I take you're sending Darius on the Roc mission then? I might've read that wrong and if so, I apologize.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Alright, take your time Elite.

so far, I have:

Roc mission- Annabeth and Aramir.

I will have to flip a coin for Mar, as she would go on either one besides the Roc. It might lean more towards Rtron, while Khan might send Zaad or Rathel on the other. He personally won't be able to go on the other hand. XD Though lets hope they aren't killed or they can't exactly, unless Lucian has a fix for this, pop up in the same location Khan's not in.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Khan

"I'll let you keep trying. I'll let you all keep your Demonmancy, see if you can reach my expectations. Maybe you might even defeat me. Come on, it'll be fun! At least I'm giving you a chance. Because I'm a merciful god."

That final phrase, unsettling and mischievous, nailed deeply into Khan’s skull like an arrow to the brain. Harsh and concerning, it was enough to distract him from keeping track of the time which passed onward regardless. Unaware how little precious time he had left, Khan let the minutes slip from his mind like water from fingers as he continued to recall what he could about the vial itself. Both discovered facts and speculation swirled within his focus, a dark current with not a single comfort towards progress had left him rather weary. The only certainty he was sure of was that it was likely impossible for him to shatter and destroy the contents. Not that he hadn’t tried. Anything, from shattering it against the wall to trying to turn it into cinders within the Inferno had resulted in nothing more than wasted energy. Energy he didn’t have the ability to waste anymore, Khan realized when he came close to his limitations over and over.

His odd eyes focused upon the vial in such intensity that Khan hadn’t notice his fingers were trembling. Nor did he realize the effect it would have on the hidden vines. Slowly, his grip tightened. By now, any normal glass would’ve cracked and shattered within his grasp from the increased stress. Instead it seemed to hold its shape firmly to mock him. Inside the office walls the vine stilled altogether, waiting and absorbing the Headmaster’s mood with the sense of a hungry predator. Their stems halted their activity to seek what remained of Lucilia’s grapevine and an intense quiet fell into the room. Then they sudden constricted inwards. Vines pulled in, disturbing granite and mortar, as they tried to edge toward Khan’s unmoving form.

It was only when the first stem had coiled about Khan’s leg did his spell break.

The vine had uprooted a floor stone and drilled through another, its thin vine stretched out like a small, green rope to band about the Eysire’s leg. Its touch sent a roar of flaming pain into Khan’s nerves. In reaction, he dropped the vial flat upon the desk top and his arm shoved his chair back with a squeal. Meanwhile his free hand jerked down to rip his bad leg free. His mind shot to Rathel.

‘Rathel, your vines.’

Without a comment or word, Khan felt Rathel’s presence begin to command the plants. With a little resistant and sourness at being denied a meal, the vine started to retreat. It didn’t stop the sting of its grip however. It lingered, a dark warning, for the Headmaster and Rathel to ponder on later. It reminded them both of the grim risk with using this fully untested plant type. The vines were almost as blood thirsty as its demonic relations, a trait Rathel hadn’t been able to weed out completely without killing its effectiveness. A fact that the demon was very worried would arise and manifest in the vine’s behavior, namely when he didn’t micromanage the trait, and was surprised when Khan insisted he still use the offshoot. Khan felt his adrenaline and surprise, mixed with the potent survivor instincts, chase the trembles away for now. It was now that Rathel chose to speak.

‘I was worried this might occur. I think it would be best to use another method, namely if I can’t weed out the blood thirst and kill its aggression. It could end up killing you or worse, one of the teachers or students.’

‘No, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.’

‘Khan, I really mus-‘ Rathel tried to argue his point, his slight worry over what might’ve happened drove his words, only to be cut off.

‘Rathel, please, I’m too tired to explain why it’s important you do.’ Khan sensed a pause. A simple and promising one when the topic shifted gears.

‘Very well. ‘ Rathel continued, amused slightly. ‘However, you realize Lucilia gave you expressive orders to take your medicine? Not let it just evaporate away. She won’t like you trying to skip it very much, I hope for your sake she doesn’t decide to call in Uicle for help.’

Khan noticed Rathel’s tone held a tone of worry and concern, a gesture the Headmaster found endearing despite the conflict in the last two months. His impulse to shove Rathel and the rest into the Inferno was after all a hasty one. One made out of anger, weakness, and frustration at becoming a tool among the chaotic events. Something he never wanted to occur again. The green vial again capture his attention as his hand reached for it, sliding it into the draw it belonged in before he shut it close. After the dull thump, he replied.

‘I know, but I think I can manage it without it. Truly Rathel. There has to be another way then taking something for it.’

‘Is the reason you don’t take it have anything to do with when Riddic was sick?’

Khan was silent. Rathel could sense he had hit something and it was a harder blow then the demon intended, that much he could guess well enough from the headmaster. Gently Rathel had been about to talk again when Lucilia’s voice rang out. Khan stiffened, his head twisted toward the doorway and finally found his words.

‘Rathel, can you delay her?’

‘I prefer not to…’ Rathel said, his mental voice seemed to chuckle. He released the vines before Khan could comment and even went as far as open the door, inviting the vampire in. One of the vines wormed its way from the mortar, its end bloomed into a blood red flower of deadly beauty and purpose. Within it a voice came out by manipulating the carbon and oxygen into key qualities to mimic Rathel in sound.

“He’s all yours Lucilia.” With the end of the message, the flower gave a soft hiss, then wilted and died abruptly.

Khan looked at his drink, briefly, as he reached to straighten his work space. His hands reached for papers and sorted them into piles to make it all appear better than it really was. The last of them were shuffled into order before his leaned down for his cane, casted onto the floor in his sudden movement, to aid him upright. Against the sensation of weakness which washed over him, Khan managed to stand so he could retrieve a chair for Lucilia. His action had served a dual purpose really. One was to be polite and the other to hide the fact he hadn’t touched his medicine yet, his mind wrapped up too far into examining Kudd’s unwanted gift he had put it off. Now it was too late to correct it. He forced himself to be steady against his body’s desire to crumble as he used a question to divert Lucilia’s notice.

“How is the Archmage’s condition?”
Wrath of the Skies

Rurik

It was a normal day as Rurik made his way towards his schedule trade destination, Twilight College. The sun had finally risen over the half-way point of the horizon and the cart casted its large shadows across the grey terrain, the scenery sank deeply in the dark colors of the early morning. The wheels were a familiar melody the dwarf enjoyed of jar clinks, box rattles, and rusty axel sounds while his mule provided the steady rhythm during this long trip. For hours now, Rurik managed to keep his eyes fixed ahead, mostly out of eagerness to reach the school. He had quite a few healthy prospects that he was sure both students and teachers would enjoy. His little companion, a wee ferret, was sound asleep in the cart’s back had joined in with soft whimpers. The critter’s lithe body was curled in a nest of cast away rags among the normal various items. The little snores had Rurik stifle a small smirk.

It wasn’t until he noticed a most gruesome sight along his route: a spiked forest of demon heads. Hundreds of them were staked out and drying in the sun, their eyes closed while he clip-clopped by their still forms. Rurik felt the unease stir within his spine, the bone sudden gone ridged until it seemed it was made from stone. His fingers tightened about the reins then flipped them to urge the mule faster along. The trip seemed to work as the animal, its nostrils filled with the scent of rot and sulfur, seemed to quicken his pace. In moments they cleared the rancid scene where Rurik pushed it towards the back of his mind. Sometimes it was best never to remember certain things at all, the merchant thought grimly. In at least an hour they would be safely locked within the College’s large walls and safe, a thought that made trampling past the prior scene worth it.

Distracted by the thoughts of the future, Rurik didn’t noticed the large circling shadow until it was too late.

*****

The College gate opened wide as usually for Rurik’s arrival, but something was clearly different this bright, sunny morning. Instead of the usual rattling cart and mule, it was the dwarf alone who limped inside. Still his usual 3’10” height, his small stout frame bore the familiar travel worn cloak and clothing yet they were torn in several places. Blood soaked the front of his tunic from a large gash that had sliced into the skin underneath, a few inches deep, as he fell to his knee where he held an arm to starch the bleeding. Two more wounds, in similar fashion graced his forehead and just below his right knee where he had done a hasty bind in order to walk. He axe was gone, vanished from his person which cried of something foul. Rurik was dwarf so only something vicious would’ve been able to pry his favorite weapon from his hand, unless he was a corpse.

He struggled to keep his face from becoming planted into the cobble stone ground, his chest heaving heavily, while his face paled with worry and shock. Several students and a few Golems had immediately crowded around him causing Rurik’s head to jerk up. His eyes were covered by crusted blood dried brown but they seemed to glimmer with a faint hope. He licked his chap lips before he spoke. “*Help! Roc lat at me on th’road. Big auld beastie. Tis cam out of nowhaur n’ took off wit mah wagon! ”

*Help! Roc attacked me on the road. Big old beast. It came out of nowhere and took off with my wagon! (For those who want to double check his/her translation.)