Shard

Tenebris; Life in The Hidden City

- Renovation in progress.

Tenebris; Life in The Hidden City

It's alright. I'll go with the Warlock. I have some better ideas for a Warlock character down the line.

Tenebris; Life in The Hidden City

Hm, since you have an established idea of how you want the vampires of this world to function, I have decided to use my Warlock race instead.

Tenebris; Life in The Hidden City

I will have a character up as soon as I can, and after you've posted a character sheet format.

The Hidden Town

Working on a species for this. Almost done with it.

Also, for future reference, I would suggest a chat room for this RP. From my experiences, they tend to aid character development, interaction and player communication, as well as player community.

The Hidden Town

Me and my friend might be interested in this.

...

I'm really liking these posts.

@catchamber

Only the best for you, bro.

...

Allen Street, New York City.

Tensing at the sight, Casper couldn't believe this to be real. It was common sense, believing that this footage was nothing more than a way to seek attention, wasn't it? Even so, it looked so real. Sitting through the length of the video he had been sent, Casper found himself dumbfounded by recent events. Padding closer to his computer, the boy dropped down in his office chair before logging into Skype. Immediately met by a slew of texts by Sara, he could barely read one before it was replaced by another. "Did you see it!? You saw it, right!? Came a message, the most recent addition to the now cluttered screen. Though Casper was attempting to research the scenario, he wasn't having much luck. Things were being taken down rapidly. Refreshing the page lead to a blank screen and several websites followed the same formula.

"Yeah." Casper returned, the boy one of few words. Someone was trying to cover this up, with that someone being the government with obvious intent. The more he looked into it, the more real it seemed. Why would they go through so much trouble deleting posts, shutting down websites and censoring footage if it was all fake? Of course, the attempt wasn't exactly one of the more successful ones. No established news sites were covering this, yet it was starting to appear everywhere else, right before being taken down. Casper wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he could put two and two together. Established news companies were not covering this, yet it was seeping into internet forums and various websites like a plague. People were commenting on it, calling it fake while others explained that they were trying to call their families in Seattle with no luck. Something this grand, something this widespread could not be a prank. This couldn't have been an elaborate joke or movie promotion. Though, believing it to be real, one had to believe in monsters, devils. It didn't make any sense whatsoever.

"Shit, this crap might actually be a thing, Cas." Sara continued, furiously typing into the chat window.

"Aunt's boyfriend isn't picking up, either." Casper stated, turning to look at his phone before attempting the feat himself, with no luck.

"Cas, this crap's everywhere! There is no way this can be a joke!" There it was again, belief that this had to be real. Could it be? If so, what the hell had to world come to? Or was the answer within the question?

Wrestling with the decision to tell Claire, or choosing not to worry her was constantly picking at Casper's mind but in the end, it felt unfair to keep this from her. She was getting worried about her lover and from the looks of it. she had every reason to. With a soft sigh escaping the boy's lips, Casper called out for his aunt, dreading the idea of being a bearer of bad news. Alas, such was the reality of this scene.

"I think something might be happening in Seattle..." Casper spoke, his voice as quiet as ever as he motioned towards the screen.

Squinting her eyes as she gazed upon the streaming video, Aunt Claire had wasted no time in arriving at Casper's room. For him to call out like that, it never happened. Casper stuck to himself and he wasn't known for sharing information found on the web. It didn't take long for Aunt Claire to freak out, losing her cool and dropped down on the boy's bed. "Casper, what on earth is this? Some kind of joke?!"

"Don't know." He continued to shift between tabs, those of which he had yet to refresh, and illuminated the situation for his dear Aunt. If this was true, if any of it was true, expecting Kyle to pick up appeared to fall under the category of wishful thinking.

"We need to go there..." Claire spoke through gulps of disbelief.

"It's too far away." Going to Seattle right now wasn't the smartest decision in the world, either. If Kyle wasn't picking up, odds are he had kicked the bucket. Yes, it was a blunt assessment but Casper was no one to beat around the bush. Driving from New York to Seattle would take forever and if Kyle was indeed alive but had lost possession of his phone, he would surely have bit the hay upon arrival. The situation looked bleak at best.

"If this is real, we can't just sit here and do nothing! Kyle is there!" They say that hopelessness is the worst feeling of demise. Knowing that you can do nothing while everything you care about is being torn down around you. It was an emotion Casper had gotten far too well acquainted with, which was a reason as to why he had grown jaded and desensitized.

"Check this out!" Sara commented, the small Skype icon in the bottom bar highlighted with an orange glow. Opening the program, Casper clicked the link she had posted and was immediately brought to a gathering of videos taken of the catastrophe. If this was fake, someone was sure to get every angle of Seattle in their footage. Paling at the sight, both Casper and his Aunt could do little but stare in hopes that this was some kind of sick prank. At this point however, one could draw an obvious conclusion.

...

Allen Street, New York City.

7.21 PM.

Hauling the duffel bag up a set of creaking stairs, Casper let out a soft sigh as the scent of newly cooked stew caressed his senses. Evening time, the day had came and passed quite uneventfully but landed in a comfortable zone of house and hearth. Slipping out of his canvas shoes, Casper's attention perked at the sudden voice greeting his arrival, though like every day, it was an expected addition to the scene. "How did your match go, sweetie?" Aunt Claire spoke, her soothing and motherly voice echoing through the small home Casper had come to know throughout the years.

"Went well." The boy returned, a soft yawn escaping his lips as he finally passed the threshold of the living quarters and shut the door behind him. Rather old fashioned indeed, their home had been built into the bookstore and labored to save them some money in the long run. Living and working in the same location had its perks. As for the work itself, it would be unfair to claim that business had been suffering but one couldn't praise it for being a winning concept, not anymore. Most customers were of the older kind, people not quite used to the internet, or interested in what the vast web had to offer. The confines of a book was safer, more familiar. It was specialized and you never had to worry about going off track.

"Dinner's almost done." Aunt Claire continued, reaching her hand towards Casper to ruffle the boy's thick hair as he approached. Correcting the action with a soft frown, he attempted to save what was left of his hairstyle but conceded to shaking his head enough to make the strands fall naturally as they would, which would proceed to have them covering his eyes. "Honey, don't you think it's time for a haircut?"

"No." Casper's statement was final. Despite the nuisance longer hair came with, he was dead set on laboring through it. Gripping the duffel bag tighter, Casper continued through the kitchen, into the living room and then past the small hall connecting the bathroom to his room, finding home within the latter. Dropping the bag to the floor, Casper breathed out a long, heavy sigh of relief and peeled off the sweater he had been wearing since morning. As if a reflexive action, a routine, his left hand reached to turn the computer on only moments before he dropped down to the bed situated next to the stationary device. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Casper nearly drifted off as fatigue claimed him like an iron fist, though was pulled back to attention at the sound of a vibrating phone buzzing through his pocket.

Rubbing his eyes, the boy brought his hand to the pocket of his cargo pants and produced the iPhone, an older version, and glossed over the text.

"Dude, great job today! We'll so win finals!" - Sara.

Sent at 7.30 PM, Casper's acquaintance was the sort who found it not only exhilarating but also a critical part of the game to constantly rave on about the most recent match their group had been part of. Airsofting, it was a fun sport, one of much controversy and reputation but at the end of the day, it was both fun and a learning experience. If one was to sell off the sport as a decent time spender, one would inform that it encouraged and developed team play. It would proceed to enhance your reflexes and not least, your accuracy. Reaction time is something highly valued within the airsoft community and is another skill people would come to know if they ever joined the sport. Understandably, parents didn't always find it a palatable substitute to the more mainstream activities like that of soccer or baseball, given the firearms involved, hence the controversy. Aunt Claire had not been too thrilled at first, either. Though when she learned that Casper was doing well within the activity, she would come to change her mind.

Everyone had their position, their role. Like in any team based video game, a group was comprised of assault units and support units. Casper found himself most at home in the latter, preferring a long distance approach to the enemy team behind the safety of a scope.

"Thanks, yeah." Casper typed into the phone, his slender fingers dancing across the screen to managed the words before sending it back to the initial point of contact. With another yawn, Casper dropped the phone onto his bed and slipped out of the remainder of his clothes for a quick shower. As if on queue, Aunt Claire called on him for dinner soon after and a warm meal hit the spot like a bull's eye.

"Casper, could you try to call Kyle?" Aunt Claire spoke, fiddling with her phone as they ate. "I can't seem to reach him."

"He's probably just busy." Casper offered somewhat disinterested, his focus mainly on filling his empty stomach.

"He told me he'd call after reaching Seattle. It's long overdue." Kyle was a friend of the family, so to speak. Aunt Claire and him had been getting to know each other over the past few months and safe was it to say that the two were hitting it off.

"Stop worrying." The boy finished, bringing his bowl to the sink before turning the water on. "He's in Seattle, not a war zone."

"Mm, I guess I just jump to the worst possible outcomes. Mother hen and all that." Claire chuckled, joining Casper by the sink to wash the dishes.

As the chores came to an end, Casper reentered his room and noticed how another text had been sent to him. Almost reluctantly, not wanting to hear more about today's match, he reached for the phone and gazed upon the screen. The viral video he was met with was not about the match. Not at all. With wide eyes, Casper immediately came to a conclusion about an earlier statement. He was wrong.

...

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