STATUS:
Those you call 'police' are nothing more than law-protected gangsters. They can be bribed, tricked and threatened to shoot innocents. Make no mistake.
10 yrs ago
Current
Those you call 'police' are nothing more than law-protected gangsters. They can be bribed, tricked and threatened to shoot innocents. Make no mistake.
10 yrs ago
Peace has to be fought for, even if the law is used against you.
10 yrs ago
Ego. Like lava it flows into a roleplay from it's maker's touch, destroying the land he sought to create. Only after Ego has been cooled, can written life spring into existence again.
1
like
11 yrs ago
Back to work. Steel toed boots Ready to Kick!
11 yrs ago
I refuse to operate solely on the rule of cool!
1
like
Bio
CAUTION: My posts contain violence, foul language, hard core graphics, loud sounds, jump scares and seizure-inducing pornographics.
Rated PG.
Do not read if you have a heart condition, skin condition, hair condition, comfortable reading chair. If you have any of these, click the [X] on the top right of your screen to get out of here.
I'd like to ask, Is there a specific date, year and time the current Roleplay is taking place in? I pressume it's night time and that has been correct so far, but aside from that we know little.
Maybe we could agree on a random date? It'll be much easier in the upcoming posts If we had one.
@Strawberry425 I'm glad you highlighted that point. It's written as very ...not flashy or if it is, there's a very heavy drawback to it. That's what I intepreted at least anyway, therefore I'm asking to ascertain this. I sensed an unspoken disparity of opinions from our posts IC.
I just noticed that all the vampires have names starting with "Ma", is there a trend you all are following secretly or am I imagining things again?
Btw, speaking of Magic has me wondering, If there's an actual reason why people are still using guns instead of just flinging meteor storms around at whim?
The streets were but a shadow of their former selves.
Walking out of the hospital lobby moments after he bid Laurella good night, despite her stubborn protests, he had insisted that she stay the night in observation till her fever subsided and they sorted things out tommorrow. He would have stayed with her too, but she won that part of the argument and assured him that she would be fine, to which he left her, albeit still somehow worried. Of course, little did he know just how well she could take care of herself, it was not like she could have just told him how she singlehandedly shot three of the scum in cold blood during the riots before the heat got to her. Or how she secretly still had another gun strapped to her thigh. Not without raising eyebrows. Laurella occasionally liked acting the whole dainty thing. ...It was refreshing.
Tired, dismal eyes gazed over the decrepit wreck just outside the doorstep. Several cars were overturned down the street, the videostore right in front was nothing but shattered glass. He looked down at his calloused hands, realizing how similarly a wreck he was, with torn sleeves and his shirt's buttons barely hanging on. Instincts caught hold of him and he jumped to the side when the entrance doors suddenly flung wide open and a flock of paramedics rushed a bed-ridden young goblin to the emergency, he managed to dodge the stampede in time but bore the brunt of the suffocating petrol odour that wafted in shortly. In a far distance, throngs of police vehicles had barricaded the way to the park, their sirens blaring.
These scents and sounds all grated on his nerves ...like nails against chalkboard, so he put his hands into his pockets and strolled off into the night, into a quieter part of town.
---------------------At 'The Steel Thorn' -----------------
Max walked out of her office, locking the door behind her as she went. She’d been meeting with a client, one of her regulars. He was a professional, and someone Max respected enough to give a decent deal on the goods he brought her. He specialized in jewelry, the nice kind, and there was always a buyer for nice jewelry, which meant Max was always happy to do business with the man. She’d locked the goods away in a safe once he left, already planning how to best move the items. She figured she’d sell some of the more nondescript pieces as they were; a few of the accessories would sell better if taken apart. She walked into the main area of the bar, going over the list of buyers she had in mind for the different goods she’d received. Fencing them separately would be best, and would leave the fewest traces.
Max sighed. She’d deal with the specifics later. She was still waiting for Bert to deal with the corpses in her alley, hopefully he’d be done before the night was done. Bodies always made things complicated, she thought as she moved behind the bar. Walking past Emily, who happened to be tending said bar at the moment, she poured herself a shot of vodka, the good stuff, before slamming it back, ignoring the raised eyebrow she got from her young employee. She had an urge to really drink that night, drink enough that even she, a non-human with a still surprisingly high tolerance, would be feeling it. However, she resisted.
“Why don’t you take a break, Em?” she said to her young employee. “I can take over here.” Max busied herself with pouring drinks and lending a sympathetic ear to those who looked like they needed it. It was late, or it would be to those who went about their business during the day. The Steel Thorn, however, brought many patrons more comfortable with the dark of night, and the night was still only beginning.
One such patron shambled his way to the bar, after pushing through the fake salon doors at the entrance. "The usual," came a deep, exhausted mummur, catching Maxine's attention when she was close enough.
"If you would be so kind." He added, never one to forget his mannerisms. Even as drab as his attire was.
Maxine raised an eyebrow in the man's direction, before moving to get his drink. "Coming right up," she said, snagging a bottle of absinthe from one of the shelves behind her. She only had to look at the expression on his face and his general appearance before pouring him a slightly larger portion than would normally be expected.
In exchange for the drink, a crumpled note and a single coin was placed in front of her. While he waited for his drink, he had kept himself busy with several photos and a small note in plain view. Trying to figure something out from them it seemed, but his expression did not say success.
Max set the drink down in front of the man, looking at him curiously. "You look as though you are having a less than spectacular night," she pointed out dryly. He may have been one of her regulars, and she often saw her patrons in somewhat shabby conditions to say the least, however something about the way this one was carrying himself told her he was having a worse night than she was, and she still had three bodies to deal with.
Max eyed the photos he set out, trying to glance over them subtly as she asked, "anything you'd care to talk about?"
He pressed his fingers to his forehead and shook his head. "It's fine." He took a large gulp and managed a wry smile to thank her with, but he was clearly troubled, that much Maxine could tell - afterall she's had over a hundred years learning to read people.
Max smirked lightly at his response. "Of course," she remarked, looking from him to the things he seemed so focused on. She glanced down the rest of the bar. It didn't seem like she was needed by any of the other patrons at the moment, so, letting her curiosity get the best of her, she casually picked up the note on the bar between them, holding it between two fingers as she quickly looked over its contents. It was a jumbled string of letters. Max furrowed her brow, scanning the note. She mulled it over for a moment, frowning, before muttering "Saints judge... I hate anagrams."
His ears perked and he opened his eyes, watching her as she put down the note. "...Saints judge?" He asked, a little more energetic than before, snatching the piece of paper up and reading it himself. His eyes widened. And he looked at her again.
"Do you know of any ...Saints? Here?"
Max smiled. "Well I can't say I've ever met any personally, but this is Santa Somabra," she stated. "As in Chaerina Somabra, I believe."
"Chaerina Somabra?" He seemed almost hurried.
"Mhmm," she murmured, looking down at the photos again. "A somewhat controversial saint, from what I've heard. Which is fitting, given the city, wouldn't you say?" she said with a smirk.
"I didn't think even angels would dare tread here, much less expect a saint." He remarked, as though angels were real. "Does this Saint Somabra have a church?" His eyes glanced up thoughtfully for a moment. "Or somesort of place of worship?"
Max looked over at him, clearly curious. "It just so happens she does.... There any particular reason you're asking?" Max could tell when someone was looking for information, and she wasn't one to give it out without a reason.
"Hmm," He furrowed his brow at her for a moment, she clearly wasn't ready to give the answer up till he said something, but was there any reason to hide it? He wasn't a detective."...The strange murders, you've heard about them, yes?" He asked somewhat rhetorically. "This was at one of them." Of course, he kept the necromancy part out. People frowned on that word.
"Do you work with the police?" she asked. "Or is this something personal?"
"...abit of both." He simply replied. "So where is this church?"
She hesitated. Max wasn't exactly a religious type, but it just so happened that she knew exactly where the church was, having been there several times in the past. Some of her more twitchy clients didn't like to meet at the bar. They found it too risky. The church had been a location chosen by one such client, for a reason Max had never discovered.
"It's right in the center of the city..." she told him. She paused briefly, before adding, "If you're interested, I happen to know when and how to get into the place when no one else is around."
"...And the catch is?"
Max smiled, her expression slightly calculating. "No catch in particular. I happen to be in a helpful mood." Max usually hated playing games, but it didn't help to make a few new friends here and there. One never knew who would become useful when. It was how she'd made many of her connections over the past handful of decades. A favor was a useful kind of currency.
Just a quick question, is there any specific posting order or can we post as and when we are able? I was just wondering lol
On that note, I thought I'd mention that
I had to post 3 times because I started in a scene happening (In IC Time) hours before the events your characters are reacting to. If I didn't and stuck to one post per round, I'd never be able to catch up to the story, ever. It was a neccessity. I'm not a speedposter, in case you got the wrong impression.
Dropping his briefcase to the floor he rushed through the already broken door, when he surveyed the scene -what he saw made his heart sink. Everything, EVERYTHING he had built was on fire. The suffocating smoke stung his senses but he could not look away, this was the last time he was going to see it ...
Laurella!
His gaze immediately shot to the stairs. The last time he saw the girl she was packing up after a long shift. Flames licked the steps, jealously guarding them and the boards creaked within the fire, it didn't look like it would take any weight. But the thought of her still being in here, somewhere, bit him.
So he covered his nose with the back of his sleeve, held his breath and just leapt as far as he could up the stairs. He tried holding the railings but the hair on his hands singed before he even touched them! True enough, as his last step landed, the wood behind them crumbled with a hearth wreching roil.
"Loll-*cough* ..ch-olla!! Are you in there!?" His fists pounded on the shut door.
No response.
"ARE Y-"
His voice started showing panic. He quickly shook his head, this was futile, and stepped back from the door. Steelling himself before barging in shoulder first.
When the smoke cleared. There, he saw the form of a slender elven woman on a bed, still in her night gown. "Lolla!" He rushed to her side, shaking her. Her body was warm, positively feverish, and she held a gun in her hand. But her eyes were closed. At least she still breathed. He scopped her up in his arms ...
But the stairs were gone. They would fall on to the sharp, broken furniture if he tried the other way. The only route was out her window, ...but they were two storeys high. He would break his legs and probably hers, trying.
However, he could...
He popped his head out the window and looked for signs of people. The street directly below was empty, he glanced past the car wrecks but did not dare look further, worried he might spend a moment too long if he noticed what was in there. Then once again, his gaze fell onto the snow white face of Laurella in his arms. His thoughts slunk into the darker recesses of his mind ...
They burnt his shop! His life's work! His HOME!
Anger gripped him in his chest, heart pounding painfully as he felt it swell through his throat.
"mRRRrrR...."
"Murr....My--RR-RFAMILY!!" It escaped in a growl that followed. Sleeves became too small and the tie snapped into two. The world became a monotone of grey and white, yet somehow louder than ever. Something leapt from the windowsill, blunt hard claws dug into and slid down the lampost as it bent forwards yielding under some enormous weight.
Her eyes fluttered open, she found herself in the streets. A somewhat farmiliar face stood over her, looking on with concern.
"Ricardo ...-" She mummured, remembering it's name. "-What the hel are you doing?" As joyous as usual.
Her onlooker stared at her for a long moment, unamused.
"...Your face." "What." What was wrong with his face? No, it couldn't be. He felt his heart clench and skip a beat. Panic washed over his features. He quickly stopped her curious hand before it reached him, his breathing halted. Ready to drop her,
".......It's cut."
Tense shoulders immediately slumped upon hearing her words, then a moment later, Laurella felt hands callously slip out from under her. "Ow!!"
@Mystic The Mcdonalds, 7-eleven and yoshinoya here all have wifi. You have to ask the staff counter to get it and they don't charge you yen, usually. I usually type mine on a phone when I'm at work too, you can use a notepad app to save your work then paste the post whenever you have access to the internet leisurely, it might be more convinient to you this way.
[u][color=ed1c24][b]CAUTION[/b][/color][/u]: My posts contain violence, foul language, hard core graphics, loud sounds, jump scares and seizure-inducing pornographics.
Rated PG.
Do not read if you have a heart condition, skin condition, hair condition, comfortable reading chair. If you have any of these, click the [X] on the top right of your screen to get out of here.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><span class="bb-u"><font color="#ed1c24"><span class="bb-b">CAUTION</span></font></span>: My posts contain violence, foul language, hard core graphics, loud sounds, jump scares and seizure-inducing pornographics.<br><br>Rated PG.<br><br>Do not read if you have a heart condition, skin condition, hair condition, comfortable reading chair. If you have any of these, click the [X] on the top right of your screen to get out of here.<br><br></div>
