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Current - White women who get their weed for free
2 days ago
Yeah that just makes me stick around harder because momma didn't raise no quitter
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How exactly does one kill an rp by showing up? RPs die because people stop showing up
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3 days ago
@face spit guy Should've kicked his ass lmao
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Y'all weird as hell for religiously checking who looks at your profile on a website for nerds


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Despite the chill in the air, Daniel looked as if he'd just run a marathon. A droplets of sweat ran down his face as he panted in unsteady, adrenaline-fueled breaths. He wasn't quite sure what he expected to happen. He wasn't sure anything even would happen. But of all the possible options, he definitely hadn't expected to watch the frog waste away over the course of a few seconds. He supposed he did intend to kill it and Kharon apparently obliged. As he turned back to the spectre in question, Kharon dissipated with little of the fanfare that preceded his arrival.

Was that, like, a one time thing, or...?

Verity's question popped him out of his thoughts. Right. Sofia was in its mouth - no, it spat her out, he saw it, so that meant- no, she went flying. Oh god, did she break her neck or something? It all happened so fast- wait, they could find a body if so. She could be fine. Unless she had been hit and turned into a puddle like the frog did.

"I- I don't know. Did I? I don't even know what that was," Danny mumbled, eyes squinted in a lackluster search for the missing girl. Imogen drew his attention next, with a much less distressing question. Was he okay? He was tired. Antsy. Still in fight-or-flight mode. May have just killed someone. But aside from that? He felt great. A rush of power churned in his soul, a cold hand extended that offered purpose and competence and freedom.

He nodded after a few moments of deliberation. "I think so. Did anyone see where Sofia fell?" With luck, someone would've kept track. Then they could get back to more pressing issues, because any time wasted meant more questions asked and none of them seemed to have answers.

This man really made spirit wielders part 2: electric boogaloo

Huh. The theory about their heads had been correct. Or they were waiting for a chance to spring up again, but the boy solved that quickly enough. Ceolfric would've preferred to keep the body where he could see it, but he'd settle for removing it from the equation altogether. The rest of their team didn't quite fare as well; they looked to be in varying degrees of distress - Freckles was a goner, Eila would probably join him soon enough - but then Kyreth veritably exploded. The bandit thought it a trick of the necromancer at first, a last ditch effort to kill them now that they'd discovered the trick to subduing the wolves, but given that the wolf already had Kyreth dead to rights and there was no reason to waste a corpse like that, it finally clicked that the fire might've come from the boy underneath.

Cerric finally moved into action after Storyborn tossed the beast with her mind, only to douse the flames and nothing else. They could all fucking die, but gods forbid a tree burn down. Piece of shit. The damn horse didn't help either, it strained against its mental shackles just enough to keep Ceolfric consistently annoyed. The final nail in the coffin was Esvelee's pointless shrieking. Useless woman couldn't even control her own pack animal and she had the audacity to critique them while she cowered inside the wagon.

Speaking of useless women, Eila still hadn't made any progress on her assailant and Ermes seemed to have noticed that he was evidently incapable of handling the wolf himself, given how he'd summoned Ceolfric to help. The bandit rushed past the cart, giving him opportunity to release the snare he held on the horse's mind now that he was no longer in stomping range. It would give Esvelee something to content herself with since she had time to whine. As the wolf reared back to lunge again, Ceolfric thrust the rim of his shield into the side of the beast's head, hoping to exploit its earlier show of poor balance and at least keep it from ripping another chunk out of Eila, if not collapse its other orbital.

"And here I thought elves were nimble," he grunted tastelessly as he raised his sword and slashed wildly at the neck, "Another restraining spell would be nice, one of you."

Chad was quite certain he wouldn't be meeting his head removal quota regardless of how the fight played out, unless they managed to hide a veritable army inside the execution room somehow. Funny how the girl was suddenly less keen on rushing in when there was a very real danger of her being fried. Ah well, he couldn't disagree with her assessment, even if charging right into the path of a fire or lightning mage was hardly his idea of a good time.

He drew his sword from its scabbard at last - the blade was far too clean for his liking - and brandished it lazily at his side. His limbs tingled as sluggish blood began to circulate in his veins at last, crawling faster and faster as the vitae within seeped into his muscles. The room wasn't so big that he believed he'd have a problem, and flames could be outrun, but every millisecond counted when lightning came into play. Red-tinged eyes passed over the group in a languid assessment. Not the finest group of warriors he'd seen, but they'd surely have the numerical advantage. Worst case scenario, he and the Eve could probably mop the whole room up alone like Dionne had insisted.

Suitably prepared, the vampire moved to the doorway and raised a hand, five fingers outstretched. "On my mark," he whispered, no longer bothering to pay attention to them. Just in case the mages needed time to compose themselves, he took his time counting down, holding his hand up for a beat before he lowered a finger. Then another. Two. One.

As his last finger lowered, Chad burst through the doors as a blur of steel and bestial hunger. He focused first on the guard caught in the middle of the room - the closest, though also the first to spot them. He would've been an excellent choice of prey, if not for the flash of white and gold beyond him that looked far more tantalizing. Seemed Caeli's intel wasn't all it was cracked up to be; the inquisitor was still here. That complicated matters, but also made them more fun. Besides, the ozone scent in the air left little question as to the inquisitor's affinity, which meant closing the distance was more pressing than dispatching some worthless underling. The vampire shifted mid-dash to veer away from a direct collision course with the guard, instead throwing out a wayward backfist as he passed in hopes to catch the man on the head without sacrificing too much momentum.

Pressing on past the first guard, Chadwick descended upon the inquisitor in a fury. Ideally, he'd have gone for the most expedient manner of execution while he still had the initiative, but he'd probably end up skewering the hostage too, and then he'd have to deal with the pestering of bleeding heart idiots all day long. Instead, he aimed his initial slash to the mage's upper torso rather than the more easily-breached guts, light on his feet in preparation to switch gears to evasion should the sparks start to fly.

Secure hostages, switch to reinforcements if necessary. Got it. Easy, simple, within his capabilities. Well, theoretically, anyway. Quinn inadvertently held his breath as he recognized Count Astorio's gesture not as a motion for them to wait, but a countdown. He wasn't sure how long they'd have until the spells started flying, but it should be just like practice. Besides, he was pretty far back; he shouldn't be the primary target. Just watch for stray bolts or something.

While his initial idea had been to rush in with the rest, the door suddenly looked like ideal cover to hide behind, and as the vampire barged into the room, Quinn barely took a few paces forward, only enough to assess their opposition clearly. Three enemies, several prisoners - wait, which ones were still alive? The one screaming, obviously, but the - the inquisitor was still here?! No, that wasn't his job; the executioner was too connected to the screaming prisoner anyway, he'd likely kill him in midair if Quinn tried to wrest him from the man's grasp. The one on the wall seemed free of any entanglements though, but still close enough to the action that he might end up hurt on accident.

He thrust a hand out toward the blue-haired prisoner, and suddenly the room shifted around him. The wall at Roan's back became the floor, which swiftly tilted into a steep incline that left him little choice but to tumble upward toward the ceiling. Only his restraints kept him from completely falling as he now dangled upward at an impossible angle. Quinn frowned at the display briefly - he stupidly hadn't considered that they'd be actually attached to the floor - but he had a solution regardless. His other hand flayed out at his side and a shimmer in the air manifested over his shoulder with a muttered incantation, elongating into a softly luminous spear that built up momentum in a drill-like spin. It hurtled across the room like a falling star toward the extended chains below - or above, from Roan's point of view - his target, shattering them and dropping Roan into an upward freefall.

As the ceiling's not-so-gentle embrace rushed closer, Quinn yanked his hand back and the room spun again, with Roan now falling back toward Quinn for a moment before sudden weightlessness overcame him, with only inertia propelling him back to the safety of his rescuers rather than the full weight of gravity.

"I got him! Grab the other one," Quinn offered, mostly toward Caspian. An aqueous cushion to catch falling prisoners would've been ideal, but he doubted the blond could muster that much water on such short notice, and he certainly didn't want a miscalculation to end with a hostage splattered on the wall.

@Obscene Symphony

As the skeletal hand erupted from the ground, Ceolfric rose his sword to shatter it, only to thankfully pause as it wound its fingers around the wolf instead of him. Not the necromancer's work, then. Either the idiot kid was fucking with him or he really didn't understand how his magic might be misconstrued in this situation. Questionable choice of aesthetics aside, it had done its job; the wolf was entirely at his mercy for the moment. Not that he knew what to do with said opportunity; Eila's answer told him absolutely nothing.

Fortunately, she clarified before Ceolfric had the chance to start playing acupuncture with the mangy corpse, trying to find an 'aetheric circuit' in the middle of putrefying muscle and rotten sinew. The thing still squirmed a bit too much for a clean execution, but this wasn't his first beheading. He waited for the trapped wolf to lock its jaws against one of the fingers holding it before he took up his sword with both hands and roughly eyeballed the line from Goredrinker's edge to the creature's neck. In a swift overhead arc, he slammed the blade down on the wolf's neck, then ripped it free and repeated the motion, as though he were efficiently chopping wood and not hacking away at a monster's spine.

"Remember-" Whack. "Heads rarely-" Whack. "Come off clean!" Last thing he needed was for one of them to get overconfident after severing half an artery and letting a wolf back up, especially since he didn't see any of them carrying a weapon that feasibly looked like it could take off a head with any amount of ease. Quite frankly, he was still dubious that it wouldn't get back up without a head, but he supposed a wolf was significantly less dangerous without a maw to bite with anyway.

He took the opportunity to assess the situation, pleasantly surprised to see the Tainted duo had actually managed to restrain their wolf. The elf, on the other hand, was about as physically capable as he expected, which meant he'd probably have to save her sorry ass as a reward for telling him how to kill this thing. Assuming it worked, anyway.

Quinn just about shat himself as the elevator whirred to life. His lips parted in the beginnings of an incantation, only to clamp his mouth shut as Lyra blocked his line of fire, stilling the ripples in the air around him lest he accidentally shoot her instead. Fortunately, no one had to make a move, as the elevator was bound for a higher floor instead. The vampires seemed to have picked up something he didn't, because Count Eve seemed to have pulled information out of thin air otherwise.

Any thought of deliberation left his mind in a flood of urgency as Lyra helpfully summed up the prisoners' status. If they had a location and a time limit, there was no point waiting around. He could only hope - in a twisted, ironic way - that the executioner was a sadist that liked to take his time, because a pragmatist would've had them all dead before the rescue party even made it down the stairs. As Count Astorio propped open their way forward along with an offhanded warning, Quinn raced after Caspian. As far as he knew, he had the best chance of debilitating the executioner enough to buy the prisoners time. Lyra might end up frying the mages herself, and Caspian... well, Quinn hoped water mages could do more than give their opponents a bath.

As the blond made his way down the stairs, Quinn opted for the more direct route in the interest of saving time: straight down. He vaulted over the railing effortlessly, bypassing the staircase entirely as he simply floated downward like a leaf on the wind. Gravity reasserted itself as his feet delicately found purchase at the bottom of the stairwell, and his clothes once again hung heavy on his frame as he dropped down into a furtive crouch and looked around for something to hide behind.

"Do we charge in and make a scene or- I think they're running out of time," Quinn whispered anxiously. Intellectually, he knew a coordinated sneak attack would probably have the greatest chance of success, but even a moment's hesitation in assembling themselves felt agonizingly long with the knowledge that someone was potentially dying on the other side of that door.

"I can get the prisoners or... stall reinforcements," he offered, slightly more lucid but no more composed. It was about as helpful of a suggestion as he could give, preoccupied as he was. The executioner was honestly secondary; let the vampires have their fun, their mission was a prisoner extraction first and foremost. As idiotic as he thought they were, nobody deserved to be 'fried'.

Ceolfric watched with bated breath as the arrow buried itself in the wolf’s back. He doubted their assailant had crafted a new illusion involving the arrow so expertly that he couldn’t tell even while scrutinizing it, so that meant the thing before them was some variety of magical construct. Which meant it could hurt them in a very real way. Kyreth’s warning drew his interest, but the bandit found it ultimately pointless; he thought it quite obvious that they were under magical attack, though he didn’t miss that the Tainted’s perception of the situation differed wildly from his own. Something to file away for later, he supposed.

That being said, he doubted a mere illusion would cause such a stir. Was it rigged to explode? He didn’t know how strenuous it was to maintain a conjured entity, but, unless the wolf harbored a nasty surprise, that likely meant more constructs were prowling the bushes around them.

It was no surprise when the thing before them rose up to attack, nor when the rest of the pack came out to reinforce it. The others looked to be in far worse shape; their attacker had chosen the uninjured one as the decoy for a reason. If they were indeed dealing with Agitha’s beast, it had the cunning of a man. Then again, Kyreth had sensed the magic in the air immediately prior to the wolf's arrival, which suggested at least some of them were freshly reanimated. If it were the work of some fell toxin embedded in the demon's fangs, wouldn't they have already been raised and shambling about prior to the ambush ever occurring? He didn't know a thing about the demands of necromancy, but he did know how to puppet a few animals - it shouldn't have demanded such effort if the demon merely willed them into action. Not to mention the matter of the demon itself; he certainly didn't sense a Rancor nearby waiting to pounce on them, but if Cerric could snuff out his presence, then surely the necromancer could as well, mortal or otherwise.

Ceolfric readied his sword to intercept the canine’s charge and disembowel it right then and there, only to be forced to shift away by the stupid horse’s panic. He barely caught the wolf’s maw with the edge of his shield, battering it away as he ducked under a storm of flailing hooves. Oh no, he was not going to entertain interference from their own fucking pack animal. Ceolfric circled away from the wolf as he regained his footing and thrust out a hand before the next lunge, flicking his gaze away from the present threat to the horse only briefly as he snapped his fingers.

"Stay out of the way," he commanded, and the horse obliged. It ceased its thrashing immediately, returning to a calm, docile stance as if blind to the chaos around them, despite the way its lifeless, dazed eyes remained firmly affixed on the wolf, concerned only with the desire to move out of the way should the beast draw near.

"Don't suppose anyone knows how to stop these things from getting up again?" he questioned loudly to no one in particular. Short of chopping all their legs off and staking the squirming torso to the ground to stop it from worming after their ankles, he didn't exactly know how to incapacitate something that moved through magic and not blood.

Daniel didn't bother looking back. The resounding rumble from the frog's leap gave him a pretty complete idea of what had happened behind him. Then came the screams; they sounded distant, smothered. Had it landed on top of someone? Sounded like Sofia. Was everyone helping her crushed too? Damn it, he'd risk it.

The boy turned back for a brief instant, just in time to witness the air come alive in the shape of some terrible video game elemental. Before he could lament on what a bad idea pausing for a moment was with that thing joining his pursuer, the living cyclone reached down and... turned on the frog? Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to appreciate his savior, as the frog belched it away with a screech that shook the trees. The Brazilian kid, apparently emboldened by the display rather than rightfully disturbed, began tossing rocks at the beast, as if that would suffice where the giant wind monster had failed. Shame about Maive - Danny assumed she was the one dangling from the frog's tongue, given what Orlando said - but he certainly wasn't going to join her just to look like the hero.

So, in true heroic fashion, he turned back and resumed his desperate sprint. That was at least two people the frog had to content itself with before it'd get to him; maybe it'd be full after that and leave him alone. Not that it gave him a way off the island, but it bought him time. He'd been doing nothing but buying time lately. This dream was quickly turning into a psychoanalyst's wet dream, and he'd really appreciate the opportunity to wake up soon. When Daniel crossed the treeline and emerged back onto the shore, the full weight of his powerlessness came crashing down on him at last. Sure, he could dive into that weird water, but there's no way he'd outswim a giant frog. Without another island in sight, he wouldn't have a feasible escape even if he could, and it wasn't like he knew how to make a raft.

Trying to cross at last? Ah, but thou hast picked the wrong shore.

A voice whispered through his head, driving the building stress headache from earlier into an explosive crescendo near instantly. A hand shot up to clutch at his forehead reflexively as he drilled his eyes shut, now more focused on the voice than the frog behind him for some inexplicable reason. It sounded much like his own, but parched and raspy, as if it hadn't been used in a long, long time.

Unkind fate after unkind fate findeth thee.
Thinkest thou 'tis not weirdly fucked up?
But alas, the threshold may only be crossed one way, whether fairly or unfairly traversed.
Acceptance remaineth as the sole path.
Passivity shan't create a way back to what hath been lost.

Daniel had no idea what the hell his mind-voice was talking about, struggling as he was to remain on his feet while waves of pain throbbed through his head with every syllable it uttered, but the words resonated with his soul nevertheless. It wanted him to do... something, but he couldn't begin to fathom what.

Thine old self is dead and buried, beneath falsehood and castigation and shame, yet thou lingerest still before the ferry.
Canst thou not muster but a single coin for passage?
Or dost thou still believe a return is possible?
Art thou too afraid to pass on for fear that Elysium awaiteth not on the far shore?
Surely any destination appealeth more than this purgatory.

Purgatory? Was he dead? His brain went in circles; every line of thought he could manage through the pain nonsensically circled back to what the voice had said, and he had to admit, any destination did appeal right now. If he had a goal, a destination, a light in the distance to follow, he could at least say he'd tried. But he had nothing to give; no coins, nothing.

Dwell not upon thy former wealth, thou shalt have no need of it.
I ask for merely an obol, a drachma, a danake; a paltry sum to pay the toll.

It came to him at last.

"I don't know the way forward anymore," Danny mumbled ruefully to himself, "Not just here. Not just on this stupid dream island. I try not to think about it because it just makes me angry, but- but I have no idea where I'm going in life. I'm sixteen and it's already over, because I was stupid." The confession left his lips sourly, washed away by the sounds of the tide and the rattling of trees and chaos of a demon frog wreaking havoc upon the island, yet to Daniel the words seemed to hang in the air over him tauntingly. "And I know it's stupid because I could be so much worse off, but I hate it. I'm selfish and spoiled and I don't care; I hate it."

The invisible talons of pain relented of their grip on his head at once, replaced with a penetrating chill that crept up his spine like grasping hands intent on tugging him down into the grave. It was ominous, dangerous even, but Daniel felt no fear. It posed no threat to him; his way forward had already been secured.

The toll is paid. Let the contract be sealed.

I am thou, thou art I...
No matter how harrowing the waters, there is no river that cannot be navigated.
The ferry departeth, and thy faithful guide waiteth patiently for thee to step aboard.
If thou seekest passage, thou needst only call my name.

The name in question came to him as surely as he knew his own.

"Kharon!" Danny shouted as he staggered back into the brush. Mist coalesced in his wake, as if the icy chill that had seized him now extended to the air itself. A shadow loomed from within the cloud that grew taller at the boy's back with every step as his stride grew more steady and resolute. By the time the frog was back in sight, the wisps of shadow had solidifed into the soiled tatters of a rotting garment, floating in the sea breeze with ethereal languidity. A desiccated hand breached the veil of mist, holding within a gnarled oar of petrified wood that the figure swung with uncanny speed for its decrepit appearance, dissipating the curtain of fog.

The figure, now revealed, raised his cowled head to look upon the giant frog, his features still veiled by darkness aside from his unkempt beard. Another decaying hand rose, pointing at the frog in admonishment.

"Fuck your rocks, I'm killing this thing," Danny snarled, and Kharon mirrored his rage. Twin flames of eerie blue sparked to life beneath the Persona's hood, like two eyes burning with fury. Shadows coiled along its outstretched finger like flowing ink, which congealed at the tip of the extended digit briefly before they leapt off and wound through the air in a serpentine coil, intent on striking right into the amphibious enemy.

Huh, she backed down. Interesting. Chad doubted she was actually convinced and conceded only because the argument seemed a waste of time, but he'd take it regardless. He followed the group with casual ease - or at least as casual as one can be while dodging the view of security cameras - and moved to continue onward even as the elevator started its ascent. The Dionne girl rushed ahead, as if she weren't far too fragile to take point. Well, maybe she'd intended to turn the inside of the elevator into a conflagration before the occupants had a chance to react, but surely standing that close was a hazard regardless. The point became moot, as much of what occurred here apparently did, as the elevator continued past them and into the detention level.

The chatter was about what he expected; security didn't give a damn anymore. The Eve wanted to press them for information, though Chad was perfectly content to wait for the elevator to arrive just so he could deprive that poor idiot of any chance of seeing snow or his family again, but apparently the prisoners took first priority now that they had confirmation at least some of them were still alive. How annoying. He supposed they couldn't bank on the one downstairs playing with his food for too long, so it'd be better to catch him while he's distracted with his fun. Clearly he had some kind of fire-derivative for an affinity, so he was likely capable of becoming quite the annoyance. Besides, it would be completely unsatisfying to get neither a fight nor a completed objective out of this trip.

"Yes, oh fearless leader," Chad acquiesced flatly, finally moving with intent for the first time since he'd ripped that girl's throat out earlier. "You have about fifteen seconds until that elevator opens, so I suggest you pick up the pace." He gently pushed the door to the stairwell open, careful to avoid any unfortunate rattling, then continued past, only dangling a lanky arm backward to hold the door open behind him. If they started arguing rather than walking again, he didn't need the slam of a forgotten door to tip off both the two in the elevator and the ones downstairs too.

Quinn let himself relax at last as Lyra finally backed down. She didn't at all seem genuine, but so long as everyone had calmed down, they could keep moving. Let them work out their differences somewhere else - preferrably far, far away from him. Hopefully Lyra's conduct wasn't a direct reflection on her mother, or else he might not get the chance. He'd come to Dawn Rising expecting- well, he didn't know, but something akin to a harmonious organization united by common cause, misguided as it was, not a petty microcosm of the Blood War. He certainly hadn't signed up to butt heads with vampires based on some imagined mage solidarity.

Lyra tugged one of his sleeves away, and his hands instinctively balled into fists as they separated. Guiltily, his cheeks flushed red again and his mouth parted to offer a mumbled apology for his conduct, but it promptly closed again once he'd registered that she hadn't taken issue with his incessant fidgeting, but rather intended to just beckon him forward. Maybe it would've been for the best; if the vampires saw her chide him like his mother, they probably wouldn't place them as kindred spirits. Certainly would've been embarrassing, though.

People here were oddly fond of touching each other, he noted. Or at least touching him. That was twice in a row, did they have no shame? Well, clearly not, if she was so willing to argue with the vampires, but surely one needn't be too dignified to not shower affection on strangers. Merciful Salazar, it was that handsy countess all over again. Except Lyra wasn't even hungry.

Quinn returned his attention to his surroundings as Caspian - or Casper? Did he forget his name so soon? - zipped past, which drew his gaze up to the nearby camera. Right, focus. He followed the other mage's lead and timed his rush with the camera's movement, continuing past Caspian to subtly use him as a barrier should they have underestimated the camera's range.

"It was worth a shot. If they had already talked, they'd have no reason to keep them alive this long," Quinn mused. Hopefully they weren't too late. It didn't make sense to be still holding interrogations when the facility was this deserted, but it didn't exactly make sense to postpone their executions either. Then again, he didn't understand anything about this jail- and he was getting off topic again!

He took a step back, trying to distance himself from Caspian, lest someone notice he was cowering behind him, then gave the other mage a pensive frown. "Can your, um... puddle see the upstairs too? It'll at least get us a head start on the cells before we get up there."

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