Grimoire Gaming

The Blood Compact

Thanks, I think so too. And I posted IC.

The Blood Compact

Lady Mo emerged from the water's surface, looking every bit the goddess she thought herself to be. The air was thick with a familiar scent... wolves. Judging by the the cacophony of twigs snapping and mud squishing, there appeared to be quite a few lycanthropes nearby. Be it curiosity or territorial tendencies, Mo immediately shifted back into her white wolf form. With heightened hearing, she stalked toward the nearest source of sound. This was her forest, and she would not cower in the shadows against any pack - An alpha would fight to the death, always. Mohowauuck emerged from the wooded pond to face this strange man, he had wandered from the pack of the wolves. She did not need growls or aggression, the mere size of her form would be enough to intimidate. Instead, she looked down at him, her head held high with otherworldly poise and grace, beckoning him to speak.

The Blood Compact

*le sigh* This kind of thing is one of the reasons I left this RP in the first place... I think I'm just going to ignore the OOC unless someone pings me for an important notification that I need to read. In other, more pleasant, news: my bestie drew an awesome picture of Lady Mohowauuck. Check out my CS and praise her wonderful artistic skills! :D

The Blood Compact

Setting: A few miles outside Kilo Point, in a heavily forested area. Time: Twilight. The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon goodnight, giving way to the shadows of the earth. As night begins, the darkness rises. Lady Mo opened her red, lupine eyes and began to claw at the earth around her. From the Earth both she and her powers were born, and so to the Earth, she must always return. Every inch of her body was surrounded by the soil, she always had to rest this way to regain her abilities and retreat from the sunlight. The sun wouldn't destroy her as it might a new blood, but it kept her weak and limited her powers. She called out to the vines and tree roots to help dig her from own grave. As a wolf, digging a hole and laying in it was easy, she relied solely on nature to bury her and release her. Truth be told, her life was as much in the hands of the Earth as the Earth's was in hers - and she wouldn't have it any other way. Rising from the ground, Mohowauuck shifted into her vampiric form. Her sienna skin bathed both in moonlight and the blood of the humans she had hunted down the night before. Magnus had offered her sanctuary in his underground lair of technological filth, and she wanted nothing to do with it. She did her best, however, to convince him to use solar and wind power to fuel its technologies. But she belonged to the woods, heart and soul. Feeling much like she needed a bath, she sought out a nearby pond. Ponds and lakes she could bath in, but rivers and streams she could not, as the running water myth rang true for her. Lady Mo lowered her body into the pond and rubbed the dirt and blood off of her skin, revealing the beautiful and intricate vine-like tattoos that covered her vampiric form.

The Blood Compact

I'm working on a post now. Putting it up in a matter of seconds. P.S. I asked you a question. >.>

The Blood Compact

Lols, so if that underground base is now built, has it been a month and a half since the kilo point battle (and therefore, my last post)?

The Blood Compact

My character is still state-side, not too far from kilo point. Just wondering if the characters there now are doing their dealings at night or not.

The Blood Compact

Is it daytime still in the RP? If so, I wont be able to post until nightfall.

The Blood Compact

I have returned with the hopes of having some character interaction - and, to take on the personality and tone of Lady Mo a bit: "Do not disappoint me."

Cold-Blooded [Moving to a New Thread]

Béatrix: Trixy noticed how Alistair kept stealing glances at her and blushed inwardly. Her porcelain skin maintained its pallor, however – it always did. Although it seemed odd for him to keep looking at her, surely she looked like shit, covered in a healthly dosing of dirt and blood. Maybe that’s why he kept looking. “Béatrix, are you tired yet? It’s been a long day – a long week." Ali asked her while Mithias was out. What a loaded question… Was she tired? Physically she was not; most vampires didn’t feel fatigue, unless they overused their gifts. She was a bit mentally drained, since when did she find herself capable of the emotions she felt that night? She felt both more herself and less like herself than ever, all at the same time. The internal changes were exhausting, but she would never admit that to anyone. She must appear to be strong and guarded, and remember who she is. Madame Vengeance. Wolfsbane. Head Executioner. Béatrix raised her cerulean eyes to meet his and held his gaze “A weapon never tires.” She said to him, knowing that her acting and deception skills would never let her words sound as hollow as they made her feel in that moment. From the outside she was tempered steel, hardened by might and battle, but she was molten within. How many more strikes until the blade that was Béatrix de la Croix shattered? And whose downfall would that truly be? A mere vampire reduced to a million pieces, or an entire city smothered by smoke and ash... She looked away from him when he mentioned Adelisa, rolling her eyes in irritation. “That child reminds me much of a mosquito.” That was the only thing Trixy had to offer about the rogue girl. When he changed the subject, she was glad for it. “Steal your kills? You practically hand them to me.” She chuckled, returning his refreshing playfulness “And you haven’t even seen me at my prime, I fight best alone.” Hell, she had to fight best alone, how else could she have survived 6 centuries as a rogue assassin? Jareth: Before he truly began his hunt, Jareth dropped by a familiar place. When he wasn’t spending his time writing songs, playing with chemicals, and torturing innocents, he spent his time practicing another art form – tattooing. Jar worked part-time in a human run tattoo shop called the Ink Exchange, under one of his many nicknames. “JRock! Where ya’ been, man?” called an excited male voice from the back of the shop once Jared walked in. The scent of blood and ink and patchouli oil clung to the air with grace. The hum of a tattoo gun caused tangible vibrations all around him. Jareth flashed a deadly gorgeous smile “Stixx! How the fuck are ya?” A human male with a crown of ginger dreads rolled his chair from around the corner of his booth. “Pretty good man, called it quits with Tonya, turns out she was just as much of a slut as you predicted." Jareth nodded “Don’t let it get to you too much, bro, that’s how they all are.” Stixx shook his heads, causing the dreads to swing back and forth. “Yer touched, boss.” Boss, yeah. He might only work there part-time, more like whenever-he-felt-like-it-time, but he was their best artist. How could he not be, given his supernatural gifts? “Did I get any big appointment requests?” Jar asked. “Ya man, check the book.” At that, Jareth walked behind the desk and hefted the appointment book onto the counter with a loud thud. He flipped through the pages until he found the most recent entries. There were a few requests for trendy foot tattoos and tramps stamps, he rolled his eyes in dramatic disgust – when would they finally get it, that he was above those things? His red pen of dismissal X-ed out any appointment that he deemed unworthy, until one caught his attention. It was an upper back piece, but that wasn’t what grabbed him, it was the design that was requested that caused him to literally drop his pen.