Fantasy Contract City

[Valepicrosely]

Please look in overview for info


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Mildly cold night in the city. Its quiet tonight. Why? Nobody questions it, but its nice to not have to deal with alarms going off.


There is a sudden loud echo in the air. The usual sound that happens when there's A city wide announcement from the Baron.


Every television and every radio switches to a live broadcast.


There's a dark room. A single spotlight on a person tied up by her ankles and wrists, blind folded, sits on her knees. A short hair lady that seems to be in her early twenties. Steps begin to echo, louder as the Baron forms into the light from the darkness.


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"Contracters." The Baron started with a very muffled voice, due to his mask, "No... Abominations of the City. There is no way to resist the government! You will get caught and dealt with! If you turn yourselves in, we may be nice...If It shows that you aren't a threat to the city..."


"He's lying!!" The lady yelled out, "Even if you turn yourself in he'll-"


She is cut off by a sword suddenly being un-sheathed and piercing through her throat and violently being ripped out.


"She was the most dangerous of the latest group that had gotten captured... but as I was trying to say earlier... either way, there is no escape."


The broadcast ends.


( It begins~! @Skychild @exp626 )

 

[Valepicrosely]

The Southside Slums


"Less rest more work." His inner monologue begins."Such a display will stir things up in this blackened city. They will not stand idle, they will squeal like pigs close to the slaughter. They will get rowdy. Perhaps, We may even see a rebellion. But this aren't times of the old. Where freedom fighters round behind a strong charismatic leader. No...fuck no. This is a time of smart evil. Who have learned to stop the show before it gets traveling. What the hell is a circus without a ringleader? They'll send the some shadow like me. Fuck if they are smart they will send me to remove the head from itself, from the body and they vitals organs the move the machine."


As he had thought all he did was hold a mask in one hand. His most unknown face staring at the city. Separated by an not glass but wooden planks. He stared through a split in the planks at the rotten shit fest of a city. He inhaled.


"Rancid" He thought.


And with that he put on his mask.


And the world became sanitary. Because the plague could not reach him within his armor.


Something moved in the background behind him. On top of the TV. He turned his neck and only his neck to face. A rat walked on, the abandoned apartment attracted those humanity did not want. Killers and vermin.He was neither. He was more.


He was The Jackal.


( Just a heads up, there's several characters that i won't put in the bio right away just for story purposes )

 

[SkyChild]

"What's the point of all this?" He thought to himself as he glanced at his wrist.


His time of death, brandmarked into his skin, always visible. A constant companion.


Wanted by the government for being different. People being brutally executed on live TV, in front of everybody. Even children get to see it.


No family. Nobody who cares about him. Not even a little bit.


Poor. His wealth? Lost. Homeless. Cold and sleepless nights under the open sky.


He buried his head in his hands, letting out a sigh. "Robin, you dumbass..."


All these things just for his deity.


Illusion. Powerful, but was it worth it?


So far, not at all.


He watched his breath condensate in the air, then looked up at the sky.


The stars - breathtaking. You see their light, but they're lightyears away. That star you're seeing is probably dead already.


It's all an illusion. This world we live in is rotten.


He started to smirk, realizing how melancholy he was. Such cheesy thoughts...


He pulled his hoodie over his head and buried his hands in his pockets, walking past a shopwindow of an electrical store.


He stopped walking as a semicircle of people formed around the window.


Some started screaming, and he saw a mother covering her little son's eyes as she quickly rushed past the crowd.


Robin frowned, gently pushing a few people aside to see what was going on. His eyes widened when he saw a young woman kneeling on the floor, blindfolded and tied up on one of the TV screens. Live.


Another execution.


"No... Not again..."


He thought, his eyes fixed to TV behind the window.

"He's lying!!" The lady yelled out, "Even if you turn yourself in he'll-"
She is cut off by a sword suddenly being un-sheathed and piercing through her throat and violently being ripped out.

Men and women started screaming and yelling, some of them covering their eyes.


Robin covered his mouth with his hand, looking away to avoid throwing up. He couldn't take it.


"You sick fuck...!" He mumbled as he darted out of the semicircle, thoughts running through his head as he walked down the street in a quick pace. The baron... The evil in person. If he had one wish, he'd wish for that guy to die a slow, painful death.


When he came back to his senses, he found himself in an awful looking part of the town.


The southside slums.


He had no place to stay and nothing to do, so he might as well look for a place to spend the night. Maybe there was an abandoned building somewhere he could sneak into...


(Ohh I like that. Has a nice surprise effect. )

 

[Ariel]

Marciella had just prepared a steaming mug of tea and she sat down at her kitchen table calmly. The other chair was pulled out and to anyone else it would have been empty. Marciella however saw the spirit sitting there and met their eyes evenly. He was a young man who had recently gotten into an accident. He insisted he couldn't leave without getting a message to his newly wed wife before he passed on. For that, they discussed what to do and what message he needed to send.


"So you could do that?"


Marciella's hooded eyes flicked about as she thought it over. "Yes, I think this is possible."


The spirit's ghostly lips twisted into a smile and he was about to speak but a small television set nestled in the corner of the room caught both of their attention. A woman knelt before the audience, a woman she had the pleasure of meeting a couple times before. The Baron was there too meaning Marciella knew exactly what was going to happen. As the woman's life ended before the entire city, Marciella quickly focused her sight on the rippling surface of the tea in her shaking fingers. Not another one... If Marciella could sleep, she would have nightmares about being the one on that television screen.


The spirit who was there only moments before had vanished. The dead, they did not like death. It was strange but she figured if she was dead, she would not want to be reminded of it either or even wish it upon anyone else. Yes, there was another spirit in the realm of the dead, Marciella could feel it. She shivered and slowly rose from her seat. If she rose too quickly, she would faint, Marciella knew this from experience. What were they to do? Would she be next? Or some other poor, innocent, and unfortunate soul?

 

[Supabad.45]

*Meanwhile, in the upper city , Richie stares down at the blurs of lights and the height of the skyscrapers. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand, casually sipping on it as the voices spoke to him. 'Set me free, set me free,' he still hadn't known what it meant. He knew he'd figure it out soon enough... his thoughts were interrupted by the harlot in the lacy lingerie, gently leaning herself across his back, her voice low and wanting.


"Richie... come back..."


*He sipped the glass and sets it down on the end table. It took a second to realize the harlot was gone. She wasn't even there. Richie closed his eyes in frustration and grabbed his coat roughly off his rack, setting out to wherever.*

 

[TheSadMummy]

The wall sped up quickly to great him as his face collided with the hard stone. He felt warmth on his face almost instantly as his nose broke and poured fourth slick blood. He righted himself and started to move towards the shuffling figure half limping, half crawling away from him down the desolate alleyway they found themselves in currently.


Amuramunda felt his vision growing hazy as the whispers grew stronger in his ears overlapping in to a cacophony of hellish noises. He felt the janbiya dagger in his hand growing hot in his hand. He couldn't take much more of this. It was nearing very dangerous territory. Although he chuckled to himself despite his current predicament, this man before him couldn't take much more either.


Drakna hoisted the small dagger above his head. The effort of raising this cursed steel even this much brought a searing pain into his joints. He clenched his teeth and heaved his arm forward feeling the dagger leave his hand. As it flew it were as if ever beat of his heart brought him closer to deaths doors himself, as if the men who once wielded the weapons that now ruled his life were ready to make him pay for their help. These thoughts swirled through his head as his vision began to fade swiftly.This seemed like minutes, he was sure he was about to die when suddenly the sickening squelch of the dagger sinking into the mans spine.


The little light of the cesspool of an alleyway he was lying in seemed to blind him in comparison to the darkness that had been consuming him. He felt the stiffness in his body to die down to little more than a dull ache. He slowly pushed himself up to his feet using the wall that had previously assaulted him. He brushed the blood from his mouth and chin and hobbled slowly over to the dying man. He was not moving yet the thread of life was yet to fully fray. Drakna concentrated for only a brief moment and the dagger ceased to exist in this plane, leaving nothing but a rather large hole where this mans essential organs once resided. As he riffled through the dead mans pockets and searched for any jewelry or valuables.


The whispers began to creep in as he tried to gain his bearing and figure out where exactly he had found himself after chasing his mark all this way. As his head began to clear he heard the sound of shouts coming from what seemed to be either a brothel or tavern nearby. As he passed he saw gruesome images of a dead woman flashing across the screen. He shook his head. The death in this city never failed to amaze him.


As Amuramunda tried his best to conceal the limp from his wounded body and wandered. He could only hope that this would not be the night he joined these two fellow dead.

 

[SenpaiNoticedMe]

He woke with a start. The recurring nightmare haunting him again, not seeing his tribe die let his imagination run wild with the scenarios that played out almost every day. Rolling over in his shelter he stared at the night sky, the darkness almost nonexistent above this cities lights. He felt repulsed even being here, the sickly smell of smoke that smelled nothing like a campfire, the light drowning out his favorite thing in the world, the moon. He felt alone without her warm glow across his back as he walked the woods. His spirit immediately lifted as he thought about the last little bit of marijuana he had in his pouch. The white man had hurt him in many ways, but had also shown him ways to heal, and to see beyond regular sight. Smiling broadly he sat up and grabbed his pouch, rummaging through the items inside to find his treasure. His hand closed on the small baggie holding his salvation. He took his fathers pipe in hand and began packing it full of the green plant. Snapping his fingers, he instantly conjured a flame on his right index finger, lighting up his small home with its bright light. As he lit the weed he looked around, satisfied with what he saw. He was sleeping in a dumpster, not out of need, but by choice. it was small and dark, and no one ventured too near them to ever disturb his slumber during the day. The thick scent of the drug filled the air and he felt himself start to relax as the high set in. He would have to venture to the place they called a tavern tonight, to look for some work. He had heard that people with his certain skill set were very valuable to certain individuals. He liked his dumpster but he hated having to steal for his food. it always made him feel like he dishonored his ancestors with his actions. his people were a kind and loyal people, dishonesty and theft were akin to killing a man in their tribe. Tonight is the night i steal no more, he thought to himself steadily puffing on the rapidly dying pipe. The pipe now empty Ahote packed up his belongings. With everything packed he slid his bag over his shoulder and peeked over the top, checking for any prying eyes. satisfied that no one was around he jumped out into the night, confident that he will get his work tonight.