Realistic or Modern New Oasis: Monochrome Dreams

[BriiAngelic]

Igarashi Hari

CS Link

SCENE MUSIC:

Suspicions

LOCATION:

The Quarter, South Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Angel, Hikari, Choji, Conrad, River

Hostile Takeover

The signal to go was the civilians headed out in waves soaked from head to toe.

Otose was on the prowl outside which meant he wasn’t needed there. Besides his role was more a precaution on the sidelines in the first place. A safeguard to ensure what went down stayed in Guroko’s best interests. Which is why he went in solo on the Raja’s part.

His boys were a conflict of interest anyway with how much they liked to play around with the women here, they might not be able to keep their head in the game. With as small a family as they were the gals could stick behind til Inaya gave them the signal.

It should have been a quick raid in now that the civilians were cleared. The fact that they came into what seemed as though no resistance should have made it even easier. But he hadn’t been in the Association twenty years to fall for this obvious of a trap. They lost all their customers and not a single sound of staff rushing in.

“Heh, looks like they ran with a tail between their legs,”

No. He threw himself back as he went to find a corner, knocking back a few other Guroko in the process. He let his power off as he screamed to the others.

“RUN YOU FOOLS.”

His power created a space of safety as the steam came down. A slow progression closer that would be halted as long as he could stay focused. Steam wasn’t exactly a bullet or a knife to be dodged though. While he heard the screams of the unfortunates who couldn’t move or prepare for it he felt the heat start to cause him to sweat from under his suit. Even holding it back from burning them didn’t stop that mere feet away people were being boiled alive.

The smell of flesh burning wasn’t something to get used to no matter how many times he’d smelt it. For now, he put it out of his mind. River could deal with whatever sad sacks of meat were left over given they lived through it.

The steam cleared and showed a lone figure.

His anger rose seeing the bodies littering the floor from this disgustingly cheap tactic. He already was debating on the best form of punishment for this bastard. Honor went out the window when the enemy struck first. Decapitation was too kind. He’d rip limbs off one by one and then bring what was left to River so they could take turns burning him with moltovs.

He needed to play it quick and clean though.

He took a step forwards before expanding his domain using the speed to clear the space between him and the lone fool. He aimed a kick high aiming at the man’s head hoping to split it like a watermelon with the force of his motion.

He could get wild, get violent, turn everything he could touch into supersonic bullets. Yet the sad fact was despite the numerous bodies lining the floor… they were all worth less than the game.

thebigfella luciferin RoninN7 kakemha HTCOR

 

[HTCOR]

RIVER JOHNSON

CS Link

SCENE:

Guroko Assoc. Arc 1: Scene 1 [Hostile Takeover]

LOCATION:

The Quarter, South Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Otose thebigfella , Hari BriiAngelic

Hostile Takeover

The Puppeteer Puppet issued the command of survival, to which River strode forwards. Rolling up sleeves, the pleasant smile of a doctor's bedside demeanor was given to the scientist's demand for vivisection- the steam had to have been controlled, to result in such rapid changes to temperature. Definitely wasn't a temperature control, more of a water manipulation at its core- unless it was both combined? Definitely something to keep in mind, but the fact of the matter was that it was assuredly external control, not direct manipulation of any liquid- most likely stopped at water.

A distinct note of displeasure noted the fact that only two voices could be heard from within the building- a warning tone from her superior was one. The other was bound to be quite familiar soon enough as River's new supplies. Most likely the controller of the steam, which meant either resistance or fine control over the temperature of the liquid. Without any further voices speaking up, that meant that none other Guruko was left standing. The Sankainese were fond of onsen. Seems this stock was either defective or local. Most likely both from this showing.

River stopped at the front entrance for a few seconds, checking her equipment swiftly- leaden bag, switchblade in hand- then moving through the door. Steam flew out in a tangible curtain of warmth, as normally sluggish crimson flowed swiftly through her veins.

In front of her was a sea of mist and twitching muscle, sobs of agony echoing throughout. Above the curling mist was a few balconies, safe from the conflict below- securing the area had to come first, as results could be easily found otherwise. Grazing fingertips alongside a few of the closer pieces of char ensured that the ones nearby weren't completely useless yet, while a misused bulk of supplies strutted arrogantly among the sea.

The ball of murder that jetted across the room led River to snap their attention to the oncoming fight- time amongst gutters causing her to ensure her scarf was wrapped around their mouth. Not a single breath left her as swirls of mist followed her steps- moving out of range of the oncoming duel. Ensuring no interruptions was paramount- and this was assuredly not the only fight to come, unless this event was a disappointment all around.

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

JIÀN QIÁNG

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH]

LOCATION:

Place of the Battle, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

(Eiji, Mitsuki, Kygo, Adol, Carmen)

BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH

Peace prevailed, much to Jiàn's surprise. Already, the mystery man gained their respect.

They still didn't fully let down their guard, but his relaxed demeanor helped assuage the tenseness. Maybe too much, considering the blood splatters covering his face. But it would be a lie to say this wasn't the preferred outcome.

“I’m not really big on fighting anyway. I’m a humanist, too. World peace and all that.”

Jiàn heavily doubted that, but kept their voice to themselves. There was one other thing hitting at their thoughts. Many of his 'statues' around the blocks have gone silent. Whether they were caught in the wide net of the onslaught or directly targeted, there was no way of knowing. But from the ones that survived, they bore perplexing news: Hydra reinforcements weren't coming. In fact, they were getting further away from the scene. They had little doubt that this had to do with the brazen attack.

Jiàn waved curtly at the mystery man as he turned to leave.

The Chrysanths Plague? Contrary to his beliefs, Jiàn knew what he referred to. They debated inwardly for a moment, but decided it was ultimately legend—therefore inconsequential.

Besides, he was honorable enough to stick to his words.

"It's an old legend," they began. "A disease that plagued Xia in ancient times. Made chrysanthemums sprout from the infected, killing them slowly. And somehow, the immune folk and the doctors became the Hydras of today. There are also the nutcases who think some doctors are harboring the virus. What's it to you?"

thebigfella

 

[thebigfella]

DOMINIC SIMMONS & TOBY PATERSON

NPCS

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic In Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Alessia angel doe , Arthur SoupMan0512 Cesare WhiskeyMarten

PANIC IN PARADISE

A wave of relief washed over Toby; he would have breathed a sigh if he hadn’t been worried that even taking too much air from the elite would lead to even more stares directed his way.

Alessia Trevisani was akin to a goddess, he had heard many say, and now that he had felt her touch, a soft one that had kept him steady, he couldn’t deny the comparison. Amongst the gray and black world of crime, it seemed there was still some virtue to be found. He felt embarrassed, not only because of his blunder but because of the doubt he harbored before.

Simmons knew what he was doing. Why had he ever thought differently?

In his stunned silence, he quickly realized he hadn’t spoken a single word, staring wide-eyed in a stupor, acting like a yuck.

Quickly, he straightened himself, doing his best to try and keep his legs from swaying and buckling like a newborn fawn in front of Alessia, even under her “protection,” he feared that another wrong step wouldn’t leave him so lucky.

“My name’s Toby Paterson, ma’am!” Toby spoke up like a soldier being addressed by a drill sergeant, quickly realizing he had no reason to still be so vocal, as when he was apologizing earlier, he brought his tone down many an octave, a sheepish smile upon his lips.

“I’m Mr. Simmons's assistant,” he introduced, and then he admitted, “It should really be him talking to you, not me.” An assistant was meant to stay at the sidelines; little were they to play the part of socialite, especially for his positions. Finances and spending that was his focus. He had more of a mind to consider how much everything here costs, down from the working staff to the linens that lined the table; in the face of infinite wealth, he tried not to think about it too hard, lest he’d be dumbstruck.

He had to remember that money was part of the reason they were here. A political campaign was nothing without finances. Talking to Alessia Trevisani could be considered part of his “job,” acquiring extra supporters and excess donors. A thought like that, at least, made him feel more resolute in opening his mouth again, ignoring the dry feeling growing in the back of his throat, the moisture being pulled out from the interior to soak the exterior of his neck instead.

“Ms. Alessia, thank you for your kindness,” he let his expression soften just a bit; the nervousness in his eyes never left. The title of Trevisani and its coat of arms that still decorated the walls wasn’t something he could just ignore. He felt wordless for what to say next, worried that one wrong step could turn this amicable meeting into a fateful demise.

Unfortunately, trouble was already heading his way. A firm hand landed on his back; it was heavy, with enough force to make him stumble but keep himself from falling; the shock and the heft made his lungs contract for a moment, but he didn’t let them pull air. He quickly tried to stiffen himself up, his hands clasping in front of him as he had already realized he was in the hot seat.

He looked up at Cesare; maybe he was only a few inches taller, but from his position, it felt like they were divided by yards. The aura he gave off was that of a faithful mafioso. Toby couldn’t keep himself from clamming up as he took a slight step back, his thin lips turning into the best smile he could muster.

“Actually, I’m from a different part of Amestria; I’ve only been in New Oasis for a few months!” He quickly spilled his guts, unsure what answer the man sought: “I’m sorry to disappoint?”

At this point, he looked ready to go pale at any second. Would there be any reprieve for the poor young buck?

---

A heavy laugh escaped Mr. Simmons' old lungs. He had stopped smoking years ago, but the remnants of his life before a changed man came from the gravelyness of that guffaw. Arthur’s wish of luck had touched his old, ragged heart enough for him to pull back his handshake and pat the mafioso on his shoulder instead.

“I appreciate that, my boy! I really do! Men like you keep in touch with the old man’s game that can shape our future; that’s why we need to keep you around!” he exclaimed with a heavy pat.

Of all the people, Simmons was the one who best understood New Oasis’ original purpose. It got its name because it was supposed to be a place of freedom and security. Old settlers came eastward to escape persecution and founded this city nearly 300 years ago. It was meant to be a home to anyone, so long as they were willing to do their part.

Yet, over time, people began to lose that image. His other contemporaries argued against the gangs. Some were more aligned with ignoring some than others, but Simmons was only one radical enough to propose that they should all be welcomed with open arms.

Some called him a liberalist; others shouted he was no better than an anarchist and that he could care less for such terms. His goal was to keep the dream of his forefathers’ forefathers alive; he could only hope such a dream would connect with the people.

Hearing Arthur’s words ignited that spark in him, that fire that everyone willing to listen to him seemed to start. The determination of a politician.

“You and the rest of the Trevisani Family’s support will be critical. Even if many of you aren’t officially citizens of our fair city, your attention and words are worth more than gold,” he spoke with the firmness expected of a man of his position, whether he didn’t understand Arthur’s implications or simply chose to dodge them, was untellable with his trained cadence, even with a half blank card placed into his pocket, he didn’t let that crowd charming smile falter.

“Well, I simply wanted to praise that performance! You’re the cat’s pajamas, sir! I almost wish I could hire you to handle my speech entrances, but I’m sure that’s below your pay grade,” Simmons spoke with a rub of his beard before a snap of his fingers as a recollection came to his mind.

“Ah, sorry to cut our conversation short, but I just remembered, I have a colleague here I was hoping to connect with,” he explained before grabbing Arthur’s hand to force him into another tight shake, “Please, keep supporting my campaign, I thank you for your kind words!” He swiftly expressed before he turned around and began to step along, twisting his wrist to check the time before his head rose up, noticing something in the distance.

“Ah! Mr. Heralds! I’m glad you could make it!” His booming voice was swallowed amongst the chatter.

Marcello Trevisani

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

INTERACTION:

Arthur SoupMan0512

Panic in Paradise

Marcello had watched the interaction in silence; the young prodigy had kept his chin cupped in his hand as he observed.

“Quite the conversationalist,” he spoke; once Simmons left, a corner glaze kept on Arthur as he slightly smirked at the man’s back.

“Using small talk to avoid beating around the bush, implications within an otherwise simple discussion. You’re no novice, Mr. Burnwood.” Marcello spoke his observations, folding one leg over the other.

“It would be a shame to waste the time of a man like you. So, how about we go ahead and continue our discussion earlier?” He turned his eyes towards the bottle Burnwood still held; his smile had been replaced with a look of contemplation, letting a finger brush across his chin.

“That bottle is for me, isn’t it? Of course, that’s why you approached me. No one in Trevisani gives out a gift without expecting something in return. Such is the law that governs our famiglia: a gift is to be returned in superior measure. So I have to wonder…”

He stepped out of the chair, strolling over to Arthur, leaning in close to make sure their conversation stayed between them both as he came down to a whisper.

“I’m sure there’s something you want from me, is there not? Someone from the main family.”

The look in his eyes was not someone interested in the bottle's material; his eyes prodded deeper, seeking to understand its purpose. The idea behind the bottle held more weight than whatever liquid was inside.

Vanessa Iozzo

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Vernon Roda the Red

Panic in Paradise

Unfortunately for Vernon, no young damsel would be sauntering their way up to him. Instead, what approached him was the grimness of death. A woman cloaked in black, skin as pale as the moon. Her wrinkles constantly curved into a frown, and the amethyst on her neck sparkled. An uninterested look at the proceedings, a woman who had spent many years going through the same song and dance of lavish parties and the glitterati lifestyle.

She wasn’t here to drink wine or make promises. Underhanded deals and back-end markets had been lost upon her appetite. The woman was more at home with her current task, an arbiter.

As she approached the table, a man approached in unison, and without being told to do so, he pulled out a chair for her, letting her sit in place before sliding it back in place. Wordlessly, the man walked away as if he was never there.

“Mr. Kruger,” she offered just that curt acknowledgment to the overweight man who accompanied the table before quickly turning her attention away as if he didn’t exist, her old, foggy eyes pinpointing Vernon, looking into the man’s face.

“That tobacco is going to ruin the taste of the food and wine,” she stated, a neutral statement; it held no condemnation. Her hands rested calmly in her lap as moments later, a waiter had arrived in their standard tux and gloves, placing a steaming hot cup of tea, fine china, the rim lined with flowers and vines, on top of a matching saucer.

With a bow, the waiter left, and the woman reached to grab the handle, bringing the hot cup to her lips; the smell of lavender and rosemary wafted through the air, and the slightest hint of earth and lemon backed the more prominent notes.

Her dainty fingers held the cup before her lips as she stared into the cup.

“Tell me, Mr. Vernon. How is Enzo doing?”

 

[AnemoVictorious]

SANYA MOROZOVA

CS Link

SCENE:

Northern Star Arc 1: Scene 1 [Union Born Under Starlight]

LOCATION:

Warehouse, North Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Helen, Yelizaveta, Jacques

UNION BORN UNDER STARLIGHT

Her face remained neutral, even before the man's tone shifted. She listened to his instructions and gave a curt nod, before taking her leave with Yelizaveta. Normally, she'd at least give him a ‘thank you’, but she wasn't feeling very generous.

Sanya remained silent, listening, thinking as she settled down. She was not the type to do much talking - her bluntness oftentimes impaired her, so she would let her comrade do most of the talking. But she'd listen, storing all the information in her head.

As Yelizaveta began to speak, Sanya took in the room's decor. She didn't care what others chose to do in their spare time, didn't care how they chose to decorate, but the sheer amount of trophies Graham had was fairly unsettling to her. It all evoked a feeling of being watched, even by the dead. But she wouldn't - couldn't - let her unease show, nor would she allow it to distract her from her job.

Admittedly, none of what the other was saying made sense to her - she was never one to care for specifics of animals, never was one to dream of traveling the world, seeing all that it had to offer. Most of her life, she'd been content where she was. If things had gone differently, would she have found some desire to do so? What would she be doing with her life now if she had not become a Star?

But there wasn't any point to dwell on it. Her choice was made years ago, and this was the person she had chosen to become. So she sat and listened, nodding when she needed to, waiting to act. Besides, she was curious to see where Yelizeveta's words would lead them. Things were said for a reason, and words could change the outcome of a situation, a reason why she tended to let others with more charisma do the talking.

 

[The Regal Rper]

Carlos | Trevisani | Panic im Paradise

The failure to mention the lack of parking space here should have been something he paid attention to. Coming up from hill top down, he could see how crowded the damn place was.

Mirror came up, and cerulean shaded pupils flicked to the side, then back to his reflection.
Collar looked a bit off and a few buttons hadn't been put in right in his haste.

"Wouldn't want you going in there looking like you just woke up." One of his associates, the same one holding the mirror for him in the back of the Special.

A huff more laugh than scoff, "Always looking out for me Leo." Buttons popped and were slotted back into their correct spots.

"You know it boss."

Series 80, four door, new engine Ford's slunk in, the hum of engine catching waiting ears; sleek silver, polished bronze, dark blue at almost black, and flashing red, drove into the perimeter of the site, got cozy on the street, pariahs of the parking lot packed with every sort of posh ride, engine dying as car doors opened for gents and the few dames aboard, to exit.

Not one but four objects went sailing through the air as the service approached the new crowd. Catching street light with a glitter like a gem. Four sets of keys went sailing like a pitcher's curve ball in a clean arc with a flick of the wrist. Car doors slamming right behind, bellhops scrambling, trying to catch--

And the four did catch. "Take care of em, ya hear. No joy riding ‘round town.”

There was a friendly laugh of exchange. Some smiles. Isabelle knew how this went. Smile and pretend like some of the jokes these rich assholes said was actually funny and maybe they wouldn't make life too unbearable.

It was when broad shoulders, blue hair and shaded eyes popped out of the sea of emerging rides that all the service sides paused their exchanges with his men to turn an eye in his direction. Even those, like him, late, cast their gaze, and Carlos acted like the stares hardly bothered him.

Instead his attention turned to an associate, his fellow guard for their prince of the camera, called out to him by name and said: “Leo and some of the others are gonna head up ahead with me. You wanna go ahead and add an extra tip to these fine folk once they stow these” the thunk of metal against his plain hand tapping on door echoed, “in an accessible spot? Gracias, mi amigo.”

He didn't wait for him to answer. The second he was done speaking he was moving and then so were others, a quartet were headed towards the building entrance, right on the path of stunned bellhops and momentarily paused entering guests.

It was as he began approaching the line of ascending steps to the building entry that others came out of the trance. Many of the line of bellhops or those simply doing their duty at assisting guests frozen at the appearance of the foreigner, snapped out of it.

Husbands and wives that had stared for two seconds too long, shared a glance and then wordlessly, those closest to the entrance past the incline of steps, went inside while others muttered hushed words that Carlos, in a simple black suit, popped open dark green shirt underneath which exposed naked portions of pectoral muscle, entirely ignored.

“Shouldn't you get to handlin those cars?”

One bellhop blinked, the others scrambled once they got a good of the addresses. The Chimeric flicked her tail, staring with serpentine eyes, light purple skin--

The female bellhop stared and took a nervous step back, keys slipping from her hand.

The eyes drew in, this time on the Chimeric and the service girl, and Isabelle felt her heart skip a beat as she heard the clang and bounce of metal on ground.

Sweat like a cold chill raced down the peach complexion as fumbling hands quickly tried to correct her mistake but was stopped when something cold, something scale, grabbed her hand.

A dumbfounded expression graced Isabelle's features, a single strand of light brown hair falling out of place of her messy bun. She rose her head up slowly, keys forgotten as she met reptilian eyes which stayed unblinking. Only watching.

And her eyes weren't the only ones. Bypassers approaching the entrance gave the exchange wide berth for maximum space in case of total drama and Isabelle cursed them for it.

“You're lookin a bit flushed there girlie. Something the problem?” The talking lizard, because even if her voice was feminine, and she looked human- the scales touching her screamed otherwise.

Isabelle's face cringed from the contact and she immediately regretted it from the cold neutral stare the lizard thing was giving her.

She stood there, sweating, cheeks flushed red. Tried to wrench her arm away and found it unmoving. From the corner of her eyes she saw a few guests glancing her way, judging. Her mind went blank, not sure of what to even say. The others that had been with her silently went about their work, not even bothering to intervene and, Isabelle, cursed them too internally while she desperately tried to figure out something to say. Anything.

What came out was a whimper and the reptilian woman before her smiled, she hoped that's what an evil grin translated as for her given the unique anatomy--

“Elsa,” the fanged grin and tightening hold faded as soon as the name came out of anonymous directly where Isabelle's back faced the entrance. “I thought I told you to behave while I was away.”

From the corner of terrified eyes, Isabelle saw a hand pick up the discarded key.

“Come on now, let her go.” His tone casual.

“But--” Elsa attempted, and when she looked back at the bellhop there was something in her eyes, something disturbing in that reptilian gaze that made her try to pull away from the iron grip constricting her wrist, “she was looking at me just now like I was--”

And his tone was just as easygoing, yet somehow carried the unspoken order across. He said one word: ’Elsa.’ And the humanoid lizard’s tongue flicked exactly like a serpent, as she released the bellhops wrist.

Isabelle jerked away near instantly. Stumbling backwards, nearly falling until a hand, large, grabbed her by the waist and steadied her.

Pumping adrenaline seized, the pounding of her heart began to slowly down die, the panic she had been feeling tapered off and as she swallowed from a dry mouth, she looked up and-- forgot to breathe.

Cerulean blue eyes stared down at her and, Carlos asked simply: “You okay, miss?”

It took a second for her brain to catch up that he had spoken. Several seconds longer for her to remember what speech was. Long enough that it delayed several seconds that could have been dedicated to getting inside, spotting Reevan, and then shuffling around and keeping as best of a distance he could from the Trevisani.

Patience was its own virtue.

---

That paid off eventually.

Rescuing the bellhop had also allowed him to walk in with Cadence Briggs, the Brigg Family. A journalist that came from some bigwigs in the electronics industry.

Third daughter of a family that owned the largest electronics company in Oasis, that dealt in radios, even had some hands in the car industry also selling spare parts.

Having caught up with his entourage having spotted how he had diffused the situation, Cadence had locked in immediately for conversation the entry in, introducing herself, her younger brother who had accompanied her, and her own female friend, Daisy and her twin Daffodil, dressed less like a lady and more like a sir.

Though to his eyes, it was obvious the twins were acting as a bodyguard for both with how they always kept close to either one's side.

Cadence had to shoo them away the second they were on floor, just to get a bit more time with the stranger that had caught her eye and as Cadence shooed her entourage away, Carlos turned to Leo who had been sticking to him like bug on a shoe.

“Take your chance now that she's talking to her brother and the twins” spoken in Fulisi, “ and go keep an eye out on his Royal Highness for me. I told that prick to keep me informed when he was leaving so we could synchronize but he went off with Cal anyway.” with a head nod in the direction he was certain his eyes had spotted Reevan at.

“Might wanna watch the lingo around her.” Leo stated. Then with a gesture to the other two, they split off from the group, adding to the distraction by interjecting on whatever it was the journalist and her little group were arguing over in hushed times off on their side.

Leo flicked his tail and headed Reevan’s way. Sticking off to the side. Enough so that if peripheral were noticed, he would be spotted. A signal more to Reevan that Carlos was here.

Wherever Carlos was, his closest ally within his own circle, the Chimeric, single horned and blade point tailed entity usually wasn't that far away.

Having finally succeeded in scattering her plus two and brother to the food section, Cadence, turned a beaming smile over to Carlos.

“Where were we?” Green eyes ignited as she pointed the simple purse in her hand at him.

“I believe I was about to ask if you, miss, were single?” Carlos tipped his shades down, peering at her, and then peering past her. Towards the table where the group of Trevisani sat. Pigging out like the archetypes of bourgeoisie.

Frankly, if it weren't for the attachment Reevan had with them, he wouldn't be here right now. When it came down to it, they were the exact sort of people he hated.

However that wasn't important. His eyes shifted from them and Burnwood back to the short redhead before him. His mug turning smhg and a little bit of tongue poking out of smirking lips, made the earlier statement, boyish and with his presence making the air feel so charged, the normal observant guard allowed the joke to pass without anything but a witty huff from the redhead dazzled in blue.

“Charming. I knew there was something about you I liked.” Cadence replied.

“Coming from you, that is good to hear. Of course, if you're here to mingle, I spot someone over there, you might like to meet.”

Cadence looked in the direction he was gesturing in and upon her widening eyes he grinned.

Stretching an arm, he offered, she glanced at him, snickered. And then taking his offer, they carried on straight towards new targets.

“You're quite daring for just some muscle, aren't you?” She teased.

He merely chuckled.

Daring had nothing to do with it, though perhaps to anyone else he was. On the food chain he was supposed to stand there, look good, make everyone else look good, and then if danger showed up he was supposed to take his licks and if necessary, keel over and die for the Trevisani.

That wasn't how he operated. He told them flat the same thing too and if they had had a real problem with how he handled his business, they could take it up personally.

They had, it had been a pleasant conversation at the end of the day really. Even if it had also ended with the good results he provided getting him shelved into this whole mess of a show. Flaunting money because you could was such a a stupid waste of time, but he wasn't the one paying for any of this, so he didn't quite actually care.

All that mattered at the end of the day was he kept Reevan safe, kept him out of trouble and kept the Trevisani safe.

Moving closer to one of them than the pig fest happening around Marcello, was better in his books of keeping them out of his range of disgust.

Toby didn't need to sweat the interaction. Whatever anxiety he felt, melted off tightened shoulders. There was a gradual ease working it's way through his muscles, getting him to relax.

The power was subtle. It didn't strike hard unless he wanted it too. He had years thinking his power could only be used to put at ease or fiddle with the senses, and those years of experience paid off.

Toby should have felt a steadiness, maybe for him, Alessia however.

Her eyes turned, whether she realized it or not, his way. It was a bodily reaction, instinctive, not one he truly controlled but something his power made her brain react to. He neared and as he did, the senses recognized.

They did nothing more than that however. Since that's really all he needed.

“Ah, Madame Alessia, my queen, might I introduce to you my friendly acquaintance, Cadance Briggs,” the juggernaut in black kindly informed.

Not even whatever cold visage Alessia Trevisani shot at the usual folk would have worked to fizzle the warm air and soothing sensation he brought to Toby, and the uncaring confidence that had piqued Cadence's interest. It wouldn't have phazed him even a little if she had shot him a cold look in subtley either.

His power didn't make everyone like him, and he had years of experience working around that too.

All, simply daring, for a schmuck whose job it was to stand there and do what he was told, just to do the exact opposite when the leash was free.

Carlos beamed, at the end of introducing Briggs. “Briggs here was just telling me about her family’s interest in the auto industry, for a rump like me looking to get a new ride, she's quite knowledgeable on the latest mods, thought I would bring her over, in case you might be looking to hunt for the newest model as a new present. And, I believe, she favors your musical talent too?”

Cadence, quick to pick the hint flushed, expertly, “Stop it.” Swatting his arm and disengaging from the limb. “He is right though Lady Alessia, I do quite enjoy your music. And if you wouldn't mind me saying, you're an amazing violinist." Then with an offering gesture she asked, "if there is anything you might be looking for in terms of car models or... additional company?" then turning her attention to Toby she politely asked. "And might I ask who your lovely friend here is?

Mentions: SoupMan0512 TheImmortalDeity

Interactions: WhiskeyMarten thebigfella angel doe @Lucem

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

REEVAN VAZ

CS Link

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Charlotte aaace_

PANIC IN PARADISE

As time continued mercilessly dancing forward, so did the discussion between Mr. Vaz and Mr. Windham. Between the business jargon and the pleasant back and forth, the purpose of the conversation was reaching its highest point. This small discourse would make or break the transaction. The art of the deal was nearing its end.

"When an opportunity for success presents itself, men like us are the first to seize it," Reevan proclaimed, gripping the air with a steely resolve, the contents of the drink in his other hand threatening to spill from his fiery passion. "Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Windham?" he dared to ask, glancing at his budding business partner.

"Why yes, of course!" cried the husky businessman, raising his glass in acknowledgment. The two shared a chuckle.

Then, in a manner practiced many times, Reevan's features turned stern, a supposedly urgent matter crossing his mind. A grievous weight he hesitated to share. Alas, who was he to not bestow his wisdom with a like-minded gentleman such as Mr. Windham? Depriving him of such insights would be comparable to a crime, the likes of which Reevan greatly opposed.

"In a competitive market like this, success isn't what you know, but who you know," Reevan stressed before gently sipping his wine. Mr. Windham's doe-like eyes were reminiscent of a lost lamb waiting for its shepherd. The way he clung to every syllable made it appear like Reevan was speaking pure gold. Much like a predator to its prey, it was time for the wolf to bear down its fangs.

"I. . . know of a friend or two," Reevan began to say before peering over his shoulder, then back to Mr. Windham. He leaned close, near enough to have his senses assailed by the pervasive scent of a recently smoked cigarette. "Hotshots that can raise your stature to the next level, you see," he whispered, placing a gentle hand on the chap's shoulder. "Value is found in relevance, after all. It's why I'm where I'm at today."

Reevan backed away, flashing them a sincere look. He felt Mr. Windham's eyes scan him over, sizing him up. Then, the man opened his mouth.

"And who might these friends be, exactly?" the fat cat asked, the eagerness in his voice betraying his attempt at caution. He took the bait.

"Well, as luck might have it," Reevan said with a raised brow, looking past Windham and toward a nearby crowd, "it seems one of them is heading this way as we speak."

On cue, a suited man made his debut from among the sea of people, making his way to the duo before extending an exuberant hand out to Reevan. "Did I come at a bad time?" they asked, smiling wide enough to put their picture-perfect teeth on display for all to see.

"Not at all, Lawrence," Reevan responded, taking his hand. "I just finished explaining to my new friend, Mr. Windham, some potential business opportunities for him to capitalize on." While he spoke, Reevan wrapped a caring arm around Mr. Windham's chunky shoulders, signifying his importance. "If it's not too much of a bother, would you mind if I asked you to run him through the finer details?" Reevan inquired, moving his hand to Mr. Windham's back, lightly guiding him toward Lawrence.

"It'd be my honor, Mr. Vaz," Lawrence replied. Once again, he went for a handshake, now clasping Mr. Windham's hand in greeting. "If you wouldn't mind following me, sir, we have much to discuss! Here's a pen and some paper. You'll want to be taking notes," Lawrence prompted, fishing out an expensive set of writing utensils from his jacket pocket and dropping them into Mr. Windham's grasp.

"A-ah, right!" the tycoon spluttered, seemingly being swept away by the flow of conversation. Reevan watched as they walked off together, Mr. Windham hurriedly scribbling away while Lawrence fed honeyed words into his eager ears.

He then turned to face the ballroom in its entirety. Reevan mused over the scenery, men in tuxedos pressing against lasses in long dresses, each demanding a night of enjoyment and frivolity. They mindlessly swayed to the music, succumbing to a world of obliviousness. He envied their merriment, even if only a little.

"How are you enjoying the festivities, Charlotte?" he suddenly called. Near the corners of his periphery sat an older woman. She had been savoring a drink throughout his conversation with Mr. Windham, yet no soul gave her a second glance. The idiom "fly on the wall" immediately came to mind. Even now, among the throngs of partygoers and their watchful gazes, her potential gave no quarter.

"You won't be sitting there all night, will you?"

 

[Eteri]

MITSUKI SHOJI

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH]

LOCATION:

Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Carmen, Mitsuki

BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH

The gates behind him closed with a shudder. Their heavy weight shifted into the frame, sending a slight tremor through the floor. Mitsuki withdrew his hand from the shoulders he was guiding, wiping it inconspicuously on their vest before turning away to carry out his plans.

A surprisingly firm grip stopped him in his tracks before he could even truly start. His sleeve was caught between the fingers of a new stranger. Sweat lined her forehead and her eyes radiated determination despite the fear which made her breath quiver and heavy. Another face in the crowd. "You can't just leave us! What are we going to do?" Diluted pupils darted over to the closed doors, tongue wetting dry lips, "You're one of Father's friends, aren't you? He must have told you something."

A flood of indirect accusations. Desperate pleas. As if their welfare was his responsibility. Irritation seeped into his mind; the nasty retort on his tongue only stopped by careful considerations of his delicately crafted persona. Times like these ones made him regret the path he had chosen for himself.

Before he could formulate a proper—more appropriate—response, movement in the corner of his vision caught his attention. A strange shadow, limbs that seemed to twist far faster than human anatomy would allow, and the eyes of a mindless predator. It passed as quickly as it had appeared; the door it went through seemingly untouched by the being it had just let through.

Intriguing.

Another demanding tug snapped his concentration out of his observations back to the human. Annoyance sparked in his bones and his fingers twitched restlessly—the start of a persisting ringing in his ears. Still, a smile appeared on his lips, comforting and reassuring.

"All will be well. In the hands of Our Lady and Him, none of you will be harmed tonight. Hurry to the corner near the altar where their influences are strongest." Mitsuki laid a hand on his chest, feeling his own steady heartbeat beneath the layers of clothing. A gesture, he remembered, not rarely seen on these grounds. "For your own safety, and to avoid tempting the devils, do not open the doors to anyone but Father Nakamura."

A stern warning, which was ultimately worth nothing more than the itching smoke spreading in air. The wood would not nearly be enough to keep anyone from entering who truly desired to.

He hoped that the mere assumption and implication that they could, would calm some of the frantic minds that have heard his instruction. Just in the way it worked for the woman as her grip relaxed after hearing his words and she finally let go.

Mitsuki used the moment to turn on his heels and follow the strange creature he had observed earlier; stone clattered beneath his footsteps. There was no need to waste more time to see what the followers would do. Especially if that meant risking the possibility of missing the trespasser or allowing the woman to grab him again.

He smoothed his wrinkled sleeve with a brush as he entered the same sideway the thing disappeared into. A flick of the switch brought the shimmering lights to life and, scanning for anything unusual, he followed the staircase into the depths of the church.

Leaving the commotion of the lambs behind him, a semblance of silence returned. The ringing in his ears subsided to a minimum, making it far easier to pick up the faint sounds of the unwelcome visitor in the distance. His pace did not slow down by that discovery but rather the opposite.

The clattering grew louder as he pursued it, reaching a crescendo behind a partially broken door. He stopped in front of it, eyeing the smashed metal knob.

Mitsuki had no idea what was stored in the room or its purpose. Apart from the public area and the office, he was unfamiliar with the rest of the church. There had never been enough reasons to snoop where he was not supposed to, and for now he had no desire to introduce gaps into his business relationship. So what the sneaky intruder could be looking for remained a mystery even to him.

Simply just another incentive to continue.

A gentle push was all it took to open the door a centimetre further, barely enough to allow a human-sized body to pass through without immediately alerting its current occupant. Lowering his breath, he slipped through the gap. His back pressed against the walls as his eyes immediately looked for the trespasser, while taking a moment to adjust to the new light settings.

 

[angel doe]

Alessia M. Trevisani

CS Link

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

vernon, alessia, arthur, dominic, cesare, marcello, toby, carlos

panic in paradise

Alessia smiled at the young man, gently squeezing the hand she still held, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Toby Paterson." Carefully letting go of his hand, she picked up her glass of wine and took a small sip as he continued speaking, nodding along thoughtfully.

"I am perfectly content with you speaking to me, but I might consider speaking to your Mr. Simmons." Alessia mused, swirling the wine in her glass and lifting her gaze to meet Toby's. The poor boy still looked so nervous and she wished there was something more she could do to help him feel more at ease. She remembered the first time she attended one of these events- sure she was much, much younger, but being surrounded by so many elites... It was fucking terrifying. She hardly spoke a word the entire time.

Then Toby thanked her. It startled her somewhat and she couldn't stop her eyes from widening slightly, "Oh, darling, you need not thank me-" She would have continued, but the approaching figure of Cesare caught her attention. Alessia watched, eyebrow raised, as he patted Toby on the back- most likely a show of strength. He questioned Toby and the young man answered without hesitation, words spilling from his mouth.

”You’re looking beautiful tonight. What’s with this guy?”

Using their native tongue to cut Toby out of the conversation was a bit rude, but she responded in Fusillian despite that, "A lovely compliment, you look quite dashing yourself." Alessia smiled sweetly, lifting her dazzling blue eyes to look at him before continuing, "Toby accidentally bumped into me and now we're having a conversation if you couldn't tell."

Once again, just as Alessia was going to speak, more people approached. Her eyebrow twitched as she stifled a sigh, looking over at them and internally cringing when Carlos addressed her as 'his queen', "You needn't call me your queen, just Alessia is fine."

It was polite to use titles when talking to someone of her stature, but Alessia had never been particularly fond of them. Unless she was in the mood to make someone feel inferior, she would much rather the ones closer to the family call her by her name; even Ms. Trevisani was better than 'Madame' or 'Lady'.

Well... Perhaps that wasn't entirely true. Whenever someone got on her bad side, she loved the way people would frantically address her as their Lady or their Queen, throwing out all sorts of empty apologies and sweet nothings in pitiful attempts to improve a situation they fucked up. That never failed to make her smile. Those who so desperately wanted Alessia on their side, the ones who wanted her power and status- Those were the ones Alessia loved watching grovel at her feet. They were always so pathetic and it warmed her heart to see them fail.

"It is nice to make your acquaintance, Cadance Briggs," Alessia nodded her head to the woman in greeting, her lips curving into a warm smile. The business pitch followed immediately after introductions and she had to fight not to roll her eyes. Carlos truly wasted no time. Adding the bit about Cadance favouring her musical talent was a nice touch, though. Alessia quite liked it when others acknowledged her talent more than anything else.

"That is very kind of you to say, thank you. Though I am not sure if there is anything I am looking for in particular, please don't take that as me dismissing you." Alessia held one of Cadance's hands in hers, making eye contact and smiling again, "I would be happy to discuss more with you at a later time."

Letting go of Cadance, she turned to Toby and placed a hand on his back, "As for this lovely dear, his name is Toby Paterson."

WhiskeyMarten thebigfella The Regal Rper

 

[SoupMan0512]

ARTHUR BURNWOOD

CS Link

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1 Scene [PANIC IN PARADISE]

LOCATION:

BALLROOM, WEST Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Marcello, Toby

PANIC IN PARADISE

Politicians were always sleazy bastards, but Burnwood had a good feeling about Simmons. He was never the type to trust his own gut. There were many who put too much trust in their personal hunches; that is what made them vulnerable. Easy pickings, if he were to put it bluntly. Nonetheless, Simmons’ demeanor and words were enough to make him think that he wasn’t your typical liar. It was very easy to know when somebody was yapping their gums for the sake of yapping their gums. Burnwood is a master of it himself, after all. This man was showing true ambition to realize his true goal of revitalizing New Oasis to its intended glory; he would most likely not stop at anything to achieve his dream. Burnwood knew this story too well, witnessing many fall victim to their own ambition.

A faint smile crept on his expression.

“Thank you very much,” Burnwood said in a hushed tone. After a forceful handshake between them, he wouldn’t get another word in. Simmons was already invested in something else. He needed to “talk to a colleague,” apparently. Granted, Burnwood didn’t have anything else to say to the old man. Perhaps a few ego-inflating phrases here and there, but that was all. The seed was planted in Simmons’ head. There was no need for him to dawdle even further with their conversation. Mission accomplished.

Marcello was there to witness every moment of the interaction; he proceeded to give Burnwood a few words of praise for his stellar social skills. Burnwood made some adjustments to his bow tie—a little too tight for his comfort. He prepared himself. Anything could happen at this very moment. Death could’ve been staring right at him, and he would just be another clueless jackass. Nervousness? No, it was anything but that. “Exhilaration” would be a better fitting word to describe the incessant rapid pounding of his heart. He wanted to express his excitement and gush about the thrill that he possessed, escaping from those mongrels that shot at him without mercy. Their dumbstruck expressions were always a treat to see.

It has been a while since he felt that euphoric feeling.

“Oh, young master.” Burnwood took his time to let his leering eyes rest. He flicked his wrist and conjured a bottle out of thin air. It sat in the middle of his palm, unmoving. His little performance was no different than a magician showing off his sleight of hand. He juggled the bottle in the air, letting it descend to the whims of gravity.


CLINK!


The bottle landed perfectly on the middle of a silver tray, glistening under the illuminating chandeliers. Burnwood wasn’t there anymore. In his place, there was an unfamiliar male waiter, with his exact features, holding the silver tray. Hair was slicked back, formal attire was plain and boring, and expression was soulless. His formal black shoes emitted an audible clack after each footstep that he made; he ambled along the porcelain floor and approached Marcello. His eyes didn’t stray away from him.

“Would you believe me if I were to say it is just a condiment, young master?” the unfamiliar waiter remarked. His voice definitely belonged to Burnwood. He made no attempt to change his voice in the slightest. “Extracted from the deepest jungles of Samara, there lies a sacred plant that only grows there,” he carefully explained. “‘Oshrumyeet,’ I believe it is called. Samarians have used the plant to make a variety of recipes.”

At an angle, Marcello could see his small reflection on the glass of the tiny bottle. Burnwood chuckled. “However, it has come to my knowledge that exporting such a plant is illegal in the country. Punishable by death, supposedly.” His hand picked up the important item from the silver tray. He walked past a waiter that was standing nearby, and his original appearance would make a return. The silver tray that he had in his possession? Gone. “The reasoning was, from what I’ve been personally told, that this plant has a dark secret.”

Burnwood finally placed the bottle on the dining table. His eyes glistened, admiring the item.

“A natural anesthetic.” Burnwood would put his hands behind his back, continuing his diatribe. “Have too much and, well… I guess you’re not seeing another day, young master.” He grinned. “If I may be so bold for a moment here, I would say that such an item could have a lot of… market value.”

“Naturally,” Burnwood gave a quick bow to Marcello, “you would take all the credit, young master.”

“I only ask for your sacred trust as my humble reward.”

 

[Arvios]

Calcis Barker

CS Link

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Reevan Luciano, Julie Wayne, Carlos Trevisani

Panic In Paradise

As he waited by the entrance of the ballroom, Calcis remained with what could easily be interpreted as a studious stare aimed at the intricate patterns of the crown molding in the hall, or the seemingly luxurious luster of the marble tiles. In reality, while he was ordered to be on standby to escort Ms. Wayne, he knew better than to waste such an opportunity by pretending he was on break. His golden glare, safe from detection behind the dark of his sunglasses, was waiting to meet those that would walk past him into the gathering just ahead. He’d make use of his position to survey those who so pompously gaited through the doors, and possibly brief Reevan of the arrival of any important figures that he recognized.

The minutes rolled by, and a well dressed individual slowed down, catching a second glimpse at the bodyguard with a sneer as he entered the ballroom. Then another one shows up… followed by the next couple, armed with mocking whispers, and the next after that, and even one more couple still, giggling to themselves with a not so covert dog joke. Calcis, unfazed, paid it no mind. Instead, he was busy sizing up their worth, or from what “tier” of the family they partook in. All appeared as typical as could be to him. They were either second rate businessmen attempting to make a name for themselves, or third rate influencers searching for growth opportunities. It was clear that they were waiting like leeches at the edge of still waters, hoping to cling to whatever provided a bit of exposure within the limelight that was the Trevisani name.

Calcis couldn’t help but cross his arms, tapping a clawed finger against the silken cloth over his ribs. If that didn’t signal his irritation, then perhaps the stiffness in his posture and bristling fur might clue one in. To him, the night was beginning to drag… Normally he was quite fond of his job, and standing over Reevan as his bodyguard had its own rewards — whether it be the entertainment, or just being in the company of the man. It was these quiet moments that made him feel like he would rust by simply breathing. Calcis wondered what the other guardians in the family were up to, and at this point, his thoughts began to buzz like a hive.

As he was about to check the time on his watch, the floppy gray triangles over his head flicked at the presence of a new body making their way through the estate. He tilts his snout enough for his eyes to peer past the shades, the sharp amber partially hidden like the sun behind the darkened horizon of dusk. His slightly bristled fur relaxes, and his lips curl slightly into a smile, now realizing that Julie Wayne had arrived.

She stepped up to the wolf in fox’s fur, tilting her wide-brimmed hat ever so slightly upwards to see past it. “Waiting for me?” She waved.

“Good evening, Miss Wayne,” Calcis opened with a subtle bow, one that a butler or waiter might perform for their patron. He likely would have not done that for many others within the Trevisani name, but he always held a personal liking to Miss Wayne. Perhaps it was the public image that she presented herself in that bled into his perspective of her, as he himself wasn’t one to enjoy the overtly lavish lifestyles that greed often invited. But, while he recognized that it was hard to distinguish luxury from power, Miss Wayne seemed to prove that theory false, even if it was to save face from the masses. Maybe that’s all it took for him to think of her in a more positive light compared to the majority of the others.

“Not for too long, mind you,” he answers her question with a curt nod, following her lead with a matching stride. As he says this, he notices another group of Trevisani names slip behind Julie. It was Carlos' entourage; whether he truly didn't notice the wolf was debatable, as he seemed a bit distracted with his own groupie. Almost immediately, Calcis' attention is drawn back to the family propagandist by his side.

“Amestrian is a very uncomfortable language,” she whispered in Fusillian with a short chuckle. Her hands clasped each other around the body of the purse. “But, surely, not as uncomfortable as you must be here!”

“It... could use a bit of practice," he admits in Fusillian, a sheepish chuckle escaping him as if to not offend. "And... yes, crowds are one thing I won’t ever get accustomed to,” he conceded once more, though now with a returning smile, “but I’ll manage.” He follows her lead as she motions towards the entrance of the grand room, and while he doesn’t hesitate, he begins to plan his actions for the remainder of the night. Maybe he could find an unoccupied corner that doubled as both a vantage point and a place to conceal himself in. But first, he’d have to present himself to Reevan with Miss Wayne’s arrival.

She glanced towards the door leading inside before gesturing towards it with a nod of her head. “Shall we? You could stand to enjoy yourself! Guarding isn’t all doom and gloom; music plays for everyone that can hear.”

The family guard takes the opportunity that Julie provided to take the lead, nodding once more as he opens the double doors into the ballroom. Almost immediately, the voluminous music, chatter, and laughter floods his senses, his eyes darting from one group to the next as if examining for threats. He smells both food and wine, with a hint of gunfire. Bullet casings littered the floor from, curiously enough, a prior altercation. With a heavy paw-like hand behind her shoulder, Calcis gently diverts Julie from the area, afraid that she might step on a stray shell and slip.

“Right you are,” Calcis finally admits half-heartedly, “though I don’t consider it quite as… depressing, as you put it. Just a bit serious about it, that’s all.” His ears flatten for a second, unsure of whether that sounded offensive, or whether his accompanying tone was too somber. As if to divert attention, he turns away to eloquently slip between two groups of attendees, paving the way for Julie and himself to pass through. “I tend to enjoy the music much better from the sidelines, anyway. It’s fun in its own way, just like eavesdropping on a bit of chinwag now and again.”

With a few more groups of bodies to go, Calcis managed to spot Reevan, conversing with another individual. All he could discern was that she was shorter than he was, so his body did a remarkable job of blocking her completely, stray from a wide brim hat.

“So Miss Wayne, on that subject, I take it you’re going to take advantage of the music? I wouldn't be one to doubt that you're one to know your onions about a bit of dance.” While still mid-gait, Calcis turns back as if to personally view her reaction, a tender sway of his tail in plain sight, discerning his level of comfort so far.

Tags: gxxberkit , The Regal Rper , TheImmortalDeity

 

[soIstice]

Carmen Romero

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

Basement of the Church, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Mitsuki, Carmen

BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH

Carmen rarely came by the church. At least, not as a human, for she was not a religious woman. How could she be, in a world like this? The inside was as grandiose as she had expected, a statue watching over the room and highlighted by bleeding lights. Peaceful, tranquil perhaps, if not for the unease that choked the church and the people crowded inside. A flock of sheep in a too-small pasture, frightened of the unanticipated danger in a usually mellow life.

Something akin to contempt flickered inside Carmen, facing the huddling people leaking distress and alarm. They had never needed to fight with blood slipping through their fingers, never learned to hide, instead predisposed to the seeking of warmth and comfort; delicacies they gorged themselves on despite the presence of wolves among them.

Not all of them were mindless though, a few with a bite to them that distinguished them from the ordinary. The creature was one of them, a stain on the church, as she passively examined its shapeless qualities. It jammed itself under a door again, heading to an unknown destination. She also caught sight of Maestro, one of Padre's little friends.

A dim staircase greeted Carmen as the flies followed the creature, one of them separating to hover around the entrance. Interesting, so the creature’s motive most likely didn’t include the people taking shelter inside the church or the prayer room. The basement then, with the winding stairs. What secrets were hidden there that the creature sought?

It reached a door, locked, but that proved no trouble to it as it crushed the metal with a disturbing ease. It would be strong enough to bend her sword, that was for sure. It would be troublesome if it came to a fight; she still didn’t know if it could even be harmed in a meaningful way with its malleability.

The creature went inside, joining the gluttonous darkness. Maestro arrived at the end of the staircase and slid in soon after.

Carmen landed on the carpeted floor with a carefully cultivated quietness, her shoes trailing soot onto the floor. She squinted into the darkness where the creature lay, deciphering nothing but an amalgamation of sounds, though darkness had never been a challenge for her. A hand pried open the lid of a test tube in a fluid motion, a reddish-brown cockroach landing gingerly on her fingertips, one of her creations that more starkly signified the Erinyes’ presence. It crept inside the room, sticking to the floor to continue examining the circumstances.

The mercenary stilled, watching as she used the cockroach’s eyes, equipped with a night vision that pierced through the darkness. The roach dug its legs into the wall, climbing up till it reached the other Hydra’s shoulder; a warning, a sign, that Carmen was here as well.

 

[Stern LuLuLu]

View attachment 1139116

Adol L. Crush

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH]

LOCATION:

Place of the Battle, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Eiji, Mitsuki, Kygo, Jian, Carmen

Bite Back and Tear Throughh

The questions just kept coming or repeating whenever someone else joined. Adol was at the point where he just wanted to leave them but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up for him and the Hydras. All he had to do was make it to the church and the bell of it was in sight.
“Hey Mr. Crush, you said we were going to the church right now can you be confident it is safe there?” But his answer never changed he only worded it differently.” Well, some of my colleagues are usually always there and some of them have been around longer than I have. I believe that that is the safest place here during all of this. and I am 100% sure that the priest is sure of your safety in the sites. I’m pretty sure other people have gone there too so those of you with missing family members or friends might see them there.” Hearing that some of the people started to look more relieved.

Not too long not too long after out of Adol after the church was in sight, the people and Adol let out a sigh of relief. not that he he ever felt really happy about coming here. The only reason you ever had to come here was to discuss business. Then he took a look around. He saw the priest and a couple of other interesting-looking individuals. Upon seeing this, he hurried the group of people that were with him to get inside the church, giving the priest a friendly wave when he walked past him. escorting them to the doors and opening them up with a large amount of force. Upon opening the doors, the people on the other side all became on edge seeing him open the doors like that. some of them looking like they were about to jump him.” All right everybody this is the place thank you for choosing Mr. Crush as your guide.” After that all of the survivors that he can’t hear what survivors to come i the church, so I’m looking around for people that I know and so I’m just relieved to have a safe place to be. For those who were able to see some of their friends and family they reunited, and what he could only assume was a happy reunion. after that, he gave them a simple smile, and began closing the door, hearing words, updates all the way up until he closed the door completely.

Once that was taken care of, she walked over next to the priest.” I do hope I’m not intruding, but I really did need to drop those guys off. They were becoming way more of a hassle than I wanted to deal with at the moment, especially since I’m not getting paid for escorting them. But I won’t bore you with all the details of getting over here. But you don’t mind if I take this guy off your hands, would you? I’ll make sure to take it away from here a little bit.Unless you wish to talk things out. unless you wish to talk things out with these heathens or whatever you call them father. ”Walking across the street from the church. He turned around to the rather huge bald man.

” Hello there I’ve never seen you around but taking a look at you I would say you would these clowns with the swords right?” Tauntingly brandishing one of the swords that he pulled off one of the invaders that he took care of on the way here.”

“They call me Mr. Crush.” then yelling it out to the monk and any of the other attackers.
“ For all of those of you who believe yourselves warriors come and at me, and let’s go down ththe path that leads to the end.”

 

[thebigfella]

???

SCENE:

Northern Star Arc 1: Scene 1 [Union Born Under Starlight]

LOCATION:

Warehouse, North Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Helena Damafaud

Union Born Under Starlight

Cleveland, in the slums of his own musings, pondering if he had really gone cuckoo, found his thoughts disturbed by a new voice. It was one he didn’t recognize and seemingly came out of nowhere. At first, he was startled, a young man who hadn’t earned the grizzled, unshaken status of some of the more veteran workers, and that made him all the more easy to crack.

“You’ve heard ‘em too?” He sang immediately, stepping up as he took off his hat to let his messy hair unfurl, dusting off some soot by rattling it against his thigh, “So I ain’t goin’ crazy!”

With a cheery smile reminiscent of a boy scout doing parley over the campfire, he slid his cap right on, giving it a slight twist to firmly put it in place on his scalp; his smile was short-lived as this brief connection fizzled into the darkness of the subject.

“It’s not from the catwalks, they’re in the damn walls! I don’t know what it is, but I hear it every night when I’m on shift. Sobs and screams! It’s terrifyin’.” He barely held back a shiver. The ambient heat of the factory was the only thing keeping a chill from snaking its way down his spine as he looked dejected.

“I keep trying to tell the bosses, but they say I’m just hearing things. The other fellas I work with ain’t much better; they’re too busy worrying about the union. Some say it stress, others say its side-effects of the meds I’m gettin’ from the Stars.” He sounded more tired than annoyed at this point. There was no doubt that someone in this situation would answer any question asked so long as someone was willing not to look at them crazy.

It wouldn’t take much pull to get this guy to spill the beans, but who’s to say he’s not just a maniac? He might be bombed or a souse. A useless card, or maybe the joker in the deck? What does your Star tell you?

Mr. Graham

SCENE:

Northern Star Arc 1: Scene 1 [Union Born Under Starlight]

LOCATION:

Warehouse, North Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Yelizaveta @The One Eyed Bandit Sanya AnemoVictorious

Union Born Under Starlight

“What is a world if not filled with trifles?” Mr. Graham responded, without pausing to even consider his words. His calloused hands had long since healed, softness had returned to them after too much time fiddling with papers and playing with pens, the grip of knives and the triggers of guns against his fingers had found more home grasping at his cigar case, flipping it open to pull one out. A few missing had already ruined the coexisting branding that linked them all together, pulling out another piece of the stamped on puzzle as he brought the rolled tobacco to his lips, while his other hand grasped towards his lighter.

“My mother fled from Ruthenia during the start of the civil war, and hooked up with an Amestrian man. Such is why I am here today,” he spoke, pausing to flick a flame to life, the heat catching on the end of his cigar, and puffed air breathed it to life.

He took a moment to let the smoke hit his mouth, the taste of nicotine, before grasping the cigar between his two fingers and pulling it away to pollute the scene all the more.


“I never found this soil to be my home. For a while, I decided to travel. I thought of myself as a conquistador, so I took back with me my “prizes”. While back then I thought of them as treasure, now I believe they are more fit as decorations. I have no use for these things taking up space in my attic anymore, and if I am to be cramped in a small room most of the day, I might as well make it my own.”

His studded leather chair creaked as he leaned forward, resting his shoulder on his wooden desk, elbows cushioned by his desk mat.

“In today’s world, one’s strength is not decided by how they hunt. A man is defined by his influence. All of these things, these ‘trifles’ I acquired myself could have just as easily been paid for someone else to take care for me and ship it to my doorstep. Such convenient things nowadays.”

Graham would have talked about the safety measures in place in case of a fire, rambled on about their practices, but at this moment, he was not a grounds manager, having to deal with troublesome journalists or other such nosey-types. He did not fear heat, nor fire, he would not melt. So, such a conversation was unnecessary.

He placed his cigar back between his lips, as he reached a hand to pull out a desk drawer, flipping through the files.

“I keep interactions minimal within this confined space. Talking to each other in fancy chairs isn’t how I prefer things. If I require something that isn’t to be done on paper, I handle it on the outside. An excuse to stretch my legs is always welcome. Far too long I am cooped up in this tiny little office,” he spoke as his fingers did all the work, smoke wafting up to hug the ceiling, brushing across the lights as it faded into the atmosphere.

Finally, he got what he wanted, and pulled out a small folder, placed it onto the desk, sliding it across.

“Let us get back to business. I’m sure both of you would be much more satisfied finishing this quickly, and it’s my job to make sure that happens.” He said, leaning back as he beckoned an open palm towards the folder, inviting either of them to open it.

???

SCENE:

Northern Star Arc 1: Scene 1 [Union Born Under Starlight]

LOCATION:

Warehouse, North Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Jacques @Haze-

Union Born Under Stralight

Rudy resonated with the family man. A mirror of himself twisted like a house of mirrors, but a reflection nonetheless. It was clear this worker wasn't a defensive person at all. In fact, he had no semblance of self-preservation, a man who spoke without worrying about the power that was held with the simple concepts of a name and a face.

Lack of conservation wasn’t much of a surprise within these rusting iron walls; anyone willing to dance on the nails of the devil, toying with the gunk that was better left between his toes, didn’t have much sense to them anyway. However, maybe that part made Rudy feel all the more level with his new coworker. Men who played at the edge of agony for not much in return except a pair of smiles.

“Nice name, Gianni. Your wife picked that, or you? Sounds like a boy who’ll be busy doin’ somethin’ creative us old timers would never think of,” Rudy spoke with a soft smile, the black on his tongue from years of smoking and inhaling fumes showing a bit past those uneven teeth of his.

“The little booger might not appreciate it now, but I’m sure he’s gonna be lookin’ at his pops with big eyes once he gets ‘round our age. Don’t worry about it.”

Optimistic, that man Rudy was a really nice guy. Some might say he had no place in a world like this, that a factory spinning cloth and pumping out condiments would more suit his mild manners, but instead, he was here, sweating, covered in soot, and rubbing over his scarred hands as he spoke.

Those same calloused hands hesitated momentarily before reaching to take the lunchbox; his already soft gaze had gone as flimsy as a feather as he looked down, “Mighty kind of you,” he barely whispered, taking out the other half of the sandwich.

It had been a minute since he had a BLT, and Rudy couldn’t turn down a kind offer. Yet, he was an honest man who loved his family more than anything and wasn’t about to waste what his wife had been so kind to make for him.

So, like a deli worker possessed by an evil spirit, he put both sandwiches together in a single stack, opening his jaw as wide as he could to take a massive bite, the hodgepodge of salty, sweet, oiliness chewing around in the corners of his lips as he mushed the whole thing down.

It wasn’t half bad, surprisingly.


What continued to transpire was nothing more than small talk, at least that’s what he thought, “I’ve seen some bad stuff here. People knocked off the catwalks after a cauldron comes by too fast,” he barely mouthed out between his full lips, before pausing to swallow, “A bad pour gets someone covered in molten hot magma. The heat causes slaggers to pass out, and they’re just left there for their skin to meld to the floor.”

Despite the horrificness of his stories, Rudy spoke with a surprising level of detachment for one who showed himself to be so heartfelt. It wasn’t unexpected; it was a well-known “trick.” Get a man to think of these as “freak accidents,” get a man to believe “that won’t happen to me,” throw them a bit of extra money, play the right cards, get them to fall in line, and replace those who don’t with new bright-faced workers to keep the cogs turning.

Even the purest hearts can find themselves jaded by everyday horrors in a system like this. Accidents are not the company's fault but employee negligence or other dictums.

“Can’t be surprised some guys is makin’ a union. Things were peaceful before. They were talkin’ to journalists, trying to get the word out peacefully with the few of them.”

“But ever since what happened to that young boy, Phil Silvers. It’s gotten big, and I’ve heard many scary things.” Rudy mumbled, staring at his sandwich, feeling as if he was beginning to lose his appetite.

“I’m afraid that the only way this will end…is in blood.”

 

[Shadow]

Kygo Akainen

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

The Street of Battle, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

(Eiji, Mitsuki, Carmen, Adol, Jiàn)

Bite Back and Tear Through

He was never more a head of Hydra, blood-crazed and ravenous, than when he got the chance to loose his blades on an enemy: especially one who stood against their ranks and sought the lot of them dead, as this demon had.
Yet, amongst the flurry of attacks his body was carrying out, he felt the chorus of sighs rippling into him from the street he had left, dripping from the lips of dying men whose breathing he had often tolerated, even willingly agreed to suffer through.

So when the demon’s weapons held no retort against his fury, had nothing to unleash but defensive sparks, his rage unfurled and his pulse easily sped up to match the increasing tempo of the demon's heart.

With strike after ear-splitting strike, he pushed the advantage the demon offered him and felt his attacks become stilted by those defenses each time.
Knowing his stamina would soon reach its limit, Kygo redirected his aim for the demon's throat and yet was frustrated to have the first slash jolted furiously to a standstill against a katana's blade: the follow-up snagging only a few stray hairs as his second knife whispered past its true target.

The clanging reverberations pained his concentration and edged his mind ever closer to the brink, pressing urgency into his attacks as extraneous sounds began to creep back into his awareness. Thick boots marching down the streets, a roof caving in nearby, birds screeching overhead, and the incomprehensible roar of fiery torrents he would not soon forget.
His bloodlust remained strong, but his sanity was about to give out, and he never liked what came after that.

Extending his blade that much further on the next attack, he split the katanas' defenses to mar the disguise and take a drop of blood. Tensions eased within him, a relief in knowing that he had moved closer to putting this menace out of his night.

But his next attack was disturbed from its intention to be the last; a loud shout coming as the sudden herald of thunderous footsteps, redirecting down the alley, stomping closer, behind him. The intensity of the sounds drew away his attention from the demon and presented the form of two new foes, loud in every measure he didn't care to take.

"Stop!"

He didn't need to know what was said to recognize the demon's intention, and the manic grin that had been on his face since their exchange first began suddenly dropped away.

"No. It's too late for that. You should have told them to be quiet," Kygo responded softly.

The distraction became his new focus, as he left everything to the side of his mind except for the way the large man was crashing toward him, club rushing to meet the back of his skull.

Yet, he managed to wait. Knowing the right moment, he dodged only when the man would have no choice but to waste his attack upon the ground: in the same movement he feinted a kick toward the other lackey's belt line, forcing the brass-knuckled hands to drop in defense of their most precious area.
Kygo's eyes shot up, his momentum shifted again, and both feet planted in the ground to give him the power to slash upward, cutting deeply into the soft front half of the man's neck.
It was short work, then, to pivot back toward the club-bearing one, who had barely registered his mistake before Kygo was landing on his back, one blade twisted around in his hand to cut across the man's throat from behind.

And then the alley held space again for Kygo to breathe; heavily, but somewhat less jagged than it had been. It was never disappointing to bring the world a bit closer to silence, and this time was no different.

He was beginning to hold a grudge, though, against the continual pulse echoing before him, the evidence of a fight left unfinished. His eyes lifted slowly to the demon, blood dripping generously from both blades.

Without words, his intention was nevertheless clear, as he stepped off the corpse's back and prepared himself to engage their fight once again.

 

[Coyote Hart]

NIKOLOZ "NIKA" METREVELI

CS Link

SCENE:

Northern Star Arc 1: Scene 1 [Union Born Under Starlight]

LOCATION:

Warehouse, North Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Helen, Yelizaveta, Jacques, Nika

UNION BORN UNDER STARLIGHT

"Hey, wake up," a voice permeated through the sleep-addled fog of Nika's brain, "You can't be sleeping here."

Nika felt a hand on his shoulder shake him, before the command to wake up. With every shake, Nika felt himself get dragged out of his nap, until he was finally back in the land of the waking. A factory worker looked down at Nika, who was on the ground, lying against a wall. Nika's head was pounding, and he felt exhausted despite coming out of a nap. His lower back was also trying to kill him, likely due to his sleeping position.

"Wha? What in the fu--" Nika caught himself and remembered his manners through the brain fog and hastily said, "I mean, sorry. Wasn't trying to fall asleep here."

Nika reached into his pocket to pull out an antique pocketwatch and was quite disappointed when he saw the time. The night before, Nika had drunk an odd bottle of cola, which was laced with far too much cocaine. In a coked-up stupor, Nika had made his way early to the warehouse in the early hours of the morning, and then promptly fell asleep on the side of the factory. Nika didn't remember his rationale for coming over here, which considering his potential, likely meant that he was too high off his mind to even have a rationale. Regardless, despite coming over early, Nika was now late.

Nika adjusted his peaky blinders hat, and from his pockets, he took out a lollipop, tearing off the wrapper and sticking it into his mouth so that only the stick protruded. The delightful taste of cola permeated into his mouth, the cocaine, and the caffeine immediately working to motivate Nika. It was probably a bad idea to treat withdrawal symptoms with more drugs, but for this one day, Nika couldn't afford withdrawal symptoms.

"What's your name, son?" the worker that had shaken Nika awake asked him.

Nika instinctively was about to introduce himself but then caught himself. He was supposed to have an alternative identity, and now was the time to use it. "Arfur. Currently my second week here."

"Second week? Odd, I've never seen your face around here."

"Sounds like I haven't been social enough," Nika quipped dryly. He pulled himself off the ground and dusted off his buttocks.

That seemed to satisfy the worker that had woken Nika up, cause he began to walk away from the area, "Well, good luck, son."

Nika exhaled in relief with the worker gone. It seemed his goof up with coming here early thankfully didn't break his cover. The young Syndicate member continued to suck on his lollipop, as he made his way to mingle with the rest of the factory workers. Nika pulled his cap down beneath his eyes, so hopefully no supervisor would yell at him to go do something. He needed to rendezvous with any Syndicate member to have them fill him in on what he missed while he was coked up.

 

[thebigfella]

Okubo

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

South Border, East Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Eiji simj26 Adol Stern LuLuLu

Bite Back and Tear Through

Ground shatters and dirt flew; Okubo’s view was obscured by the plume of soil that covered his vision, pebbles smacking themselves against his hairless skull as the debris came raining down. Yet, amongst the cries of the caving ground, the heavy splatters of rubble slamming against the earth, he heard those poignant incantations.

The man’s bulbous eyes widened and narrowed; they attempted to look through the muck that still danced through the air to see the source, barely catching a glimpse of the priest amongst it all as his brow furrowed.

“What--?”

Before he could even postulate his confusion, an inferno consumed him, a pillar that rose high in the sky, mimicking the other pillars of fire that continued to erupt from the ground like geysers. It swirled and twisted, contained but unpredictable as hell, and traipsed in front of everyone watching. Eyes from the church peered through the windows and couldn't understand what had happened, the glow of fire reflecting off their pupils as they watched in awe of what could only be described as an act of God.

Swallowed by the fearsome tide, Okubo felt the heat course through his skin. It singed his clothes, flames catching the ends of his shirt and pants and crawling their way up, while more minor spots singed holes that mimicked the gnawing of an insect, leaving dark blotches and exposing the skin underneath.

“Fire!?” Okubo breathed out with what little oxygen he had left. Where had it come from? The heat brought him to his knees, his body growing heavy as flames tickled his skin.

And then, like nothing, the fire was extinguished. Only leaving scorched earth and his crumpled form as a sign that they had ever happened. Okubo was left there, powerless, struggling to regain his breath as he sweated, one hand on his knee, the other digging into the dirt.

“A-Alright…! I get it…!” He spat out through heavy breaths; light cast a shadow upon his eyes as he looked to the ground in defeat. “I’ll get outta your hair…! I don’t have any more fight left in me; you win…”

…A toothy grin spread its way across his lips.

He bolted up and charged forward in a movement faster than could be expected of a man of his size. His meaty hands reached through the air, thick fingers strained to grasp its target, and immediately, it found purchase in the priest’s mouth. His fingers dug into his skin tightly, pinching his lips shut as they visibly strained with protruding veins.

“GAAAAHAHAHA! AS IF I’D GIVE UP!” He bellowed a maniac look of satisfaction, drool frothed from his mouth as he shouted, “Don’t think I didn’t hear you mumble those sermons! That’s the secret to your power, huh!? Even a baby could figure that out!” He gloated, tightening his grip as he continued to guffaw in his genius.

“All I need to do is keep that mouth of yours shut, and you can’t do a thing! So much for being all high and mighty! GAHAHAHAHA!”

Lifting the priest up in the air, allowing him to dangle and feel how truly powerless he was, Okubo turned his attention towards the other Hydra who had entered the scene, one that had attempted to goad him with a self-assured look in his eye as he still wore that crazed smile.

“Mr. Crush, right?! How about I show how a real man CRUSHES, starting with this guy’s skull!?”

That predatory glint returned to the priest; he couldn’t wait to watch the eyes pop out of his sockets, and the gray matter ooze out from his ears!

???

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

South Border, East Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Carmen soIstice Mitsuki Eteri

Bite Back and Tear Through

Dust clogged the nostrils in this musty basement, the faint scent of mildew and mold. Age showed within the cracked bricks and the gaps that leaked with unknown moisture. Lightbulbs above hung loosely from haphazardly put-together fixtures.

Shelves lined the walls, and stacks of boxes rested in corners. Forgotten furniture and phased-out ornaments found their home within the abundant refuse under the holy temple. Anything that once had a luster had nothing close to a shimmer hidden within the dark.

Amongst the clutter, giant gnarled hands did not do it any better. They tore through boxes, letting the contents spill out; papers scattered the ground and ceramic split cleanly into pieces to skid across the cement floor. Shelved tipped over with a loud slam, everything on it falling into pieces as the old wood cracked and splintered.

The formless monstrosity squeezed through gaps in the clutter; it pried itself into unopened containers through the keyholes and ripped open lockboxes with its bare grip, scattering whatever they contained haphazardly.

Its fists slammed into the walls, causing the bricks to concave; it dragged the shattered pieces out onto the floor, tossing others across the room out of the way.

Finding nothing but more foundation, it turned its attention elsewhere, its giant eyes scanning through the darkness to try and find whatever it was looking for.

It stopped for a moment; its antenna twitched in silence as it floated there silently.

Then, abruptly, its fist raised. And with a slam into the ground, it fractured into pieces. Shards of stone were ripped out of the way, revealing what was hidden below. A single trap door, barely small enough for someone to fit through.

What was it doing, hidden like this?

A question that the creature seemed to already know, as its massive hand clenched around the handle of the door and pulled it clean off its hinge, letting go as it slammed against the ceiling and splintered into pieces.

Slowly, it floated down into the deeper darkness, its hands grasping at the outer frame before following the rest of its body into the unknown. It only disappeared for a minute before it rose out of the abyss, its jagged teeth in a significant smile.

Something glimmered behind its teeth within its mouth. It had captured its bounty within the jail of its jaws and quickly moved its body to exit the room. It couldn’t make out any distinct shapes through the clutter; it seemed oblivious to Mitsuki’s existence.

There were moments until it would fly out of this enclosed space where no one could capture it. But, within the darkness, it might be a risk to attack.

Nishikawa

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

South Border, East Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Kygo Shadow

Bite Back and Tear Through

Bodies dropped lifelessly against the ground. Another dull thud through the earth, blood pooled through the cracks of cement and splattered across the sidewalks.

Kygo stood above the bodies. He stood in front of the carnage that was decorated in a path of corpses and flames. Bodies of Guroko and Hydras alike had tainted the earth, fallen on behalf of this raid.

…It wasn’t a surprise. After all, they had all signed up for this mission, knowing they could very well die a horrible death at any moment; in fact, it was likely. A bet on everything that could instead only leave them with nothing, but he wouldn’t regret it for a second.

His blunted katana wore the blood of his enemies, decapitated heads of the Hydras.

Kygo’s knives relished in the gore of the Guroko, tearing out their horns and fangs.

Weight grew upon Nishikawa’s back; up until now, he was just following orders; his job was to hold down the fort and keep the Hydras busy until enough time had passed, but no longer could he bend to those rules. He felt his heart thump. The ground beneath the battle bulged in throb in conjunction with blood going through the valves.

There were three more minutes left. And he wouldn’t let them go to waste. He would send a message carved into flesh, engraved with flames.

This was war.

Nishikawa stabbed his katanas into the ground in a moment that seemed to leave him wide open; the raising of his open palms immediately shifted the gravitas of the ensuing combat. The floor beneath them rumbled; it shook, bubbles of magma seeped through the cracks and popped to sizzle against the floor, the heat cooked the blood like it was in a pan, and the smell of searing flesh and melting rubber started to emanate.

And then, the ground rose. It tore itself off from the rest of the foundations, and stray pebbles and rubble dropped down below as it took off; a body hanging on the edge flopped from the side and slammed onto the ground, splitting its skull open.

They kept rising higher, a geyser of lava like a volcano pushing them further into the atmosphere. The air grew thinner, and the ground below became distant, only the stars in the sky and similar pillars of light that surrounded the arena coming to eye level, the distant views of other districts, from the fog of the North to the high rises of the West could be barely seen with the naked eye.

It was quiet. Disturbingly calm. The sounds of war below didn’t reach them here; now, they had no distractions or detractors.

It was just them, the steaming ground beneath their feet and the smell of ozone.

The samurai once again picked up his blades, raising them before him. His blunted blades held in front of his demonic mask as he approached. A step, a step. And then, a blur.

With speed he didn’t display before, his blades swung, aiming to hack a cross-shaped scar right at Kygo’s chest.

???

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

South Border, East Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Jiàn AriAriAbabwa

Bite Back and Tear Through

“Well, ain’t that the big question?” The man replied to Jiàn, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck as he stared forward, pausing for a breath to adjust how he stood, shifting one weight from one leg to the other.

“It can mean everything. Or it can mean nothing. That’s the fun part about legends.”

He glanced back over his shoulder, nonchalantly putting another cigarette to his lips as he waved his lighter.

“I’m a superstitious man. There’s always a bit of truth to some legends.”

The lighter clicked alive, and with a few puffs, the cigarette started to burn. Closing the lid, the man placed the lighter back into the chest pocket of his vest, blowing the smoke out from his nose as he started to walk away.

“I’m not your boss or anything, but it’d make our lives a lot easier if you stayed put for 3 minutes. We’re not here to headhunt some Hydras. I’d rather not spill any more blood than I need to,” he plainly requested from his enemy. It sounded like the truth, but if they weren’t here to spill blood, then what was their purpose?

His shoes clicked against the sidewalk as he strode away.

Down an unfamiliar street.

It looked as if it had always been there, houses lined both sides, and a small community center was placed near the end of the block. But something needed to be fixed; the corner sign read a name I don't remember ever hearing or seeing.

The geography made sense, but something felt amiss.

The man strode through the East like it was his home, smoking calmly as he faded into the distance.

Reinforcements weren’t coming.

 

[Damafaud]

Helena P. Letya

CS LINK

SCENE:

Northern Star Arc 1: Scene 1 [Union Born Under Starlight]

LOCATION:

Warehouse, North Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Jacques, Yelizaveta, Sanya, Helen, Nika

Union Born Under Starlight

Helen perked up her ears with a poker face. She'd heard about them Star meds; some shady racket, those, and some bootlegs floating around were even worse than the real McCoy. Cleveland being cuckoo was still on the table, but regardless, she fell deflated that the ghosts only popped up come nightfall. She'd have to swing by after sundown to catch a glimpse of them spooks.

Still, it wasn't a total wash. This greenhorn Cleveland seemed to be holding to something about the union.

"Union," she said flatly. Helen stood firm as a lamppost, blending into the scenery like she was part of the wallpaper. She toyed with the idea, just fading into the steel wall once this gig was up. With the greenhorn's name around here, nobody would buy that he caught sight of someone vanishing into the wall. Still, best not to raise any eyebrows, though. The kid got a big mouth after one question, so no need to say much. Silence's gold and made less room for slip ups. If she got no chance with them ghosts, she wanted in on the union.

Curious that he said 'worrying', though. Either the union's in a tight spot, which wouldn't be a surprise since they call the Stars to go busting, or something about the union rubbed the floor folks the wrong way. Her mug stayed as smooth as a freshly laid sidewalk, but the little kitten called curiosity in her noggin was knocking at the door. She figured this would be the same old routine, digging into who's running the show and stirring up some troubles, but now things were starting to get interesting.

She wondered how's the others are faring now.

 

[RoninN7]

HIKARI KATAYAMA

CS Link

SCENE:

Guroko Assoc. Arc 1: Scene 1 [Hostile Takeover]

LOCATION:

The Quarter, South Ward

INTERACTIONS:

thebigfella kakemha BriiAngelic

Hostile Takeover

Hikari remained in the shadows, slinking deeper into the upper levels and watching for anyone lurking around. With the raid going on, Hikari felt almost surprised that there didn't seem to be many people preparing to mount a defense. It all seemed so wrong to her, and she couldn't help but feel like something was wrong. Her darkened body slipped into another shadow and emerged near a large door. She stopped, feeling her heart beating through her chest from the anticipation. Despite being so close to what looked like the main room in this place, Hikari still couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong.

With Hikari's proximity, she should've been able to hear, or at least feel, the presence of the boss. Yet, she detected nothing. Without warning, a loud crashing sound came from outside and Hikari immediately sank back into her shadow. She emerged near the balcony to get a good look at what was happening, seeing her fellow Guroko flood the nightclub. Hikari wasn't sure whether to feel relief that she had her backup or worried that there hadn't been any response from The Alleycats. It didn't take long for her worry to be proved correct, as suddenly all the Guroko started screaming in agony.

Hikari's eyes went wide as she looked upon her comrades' burning skin. She quickly spotted the source of this pain when she looked up at the sprinkler system. A potent steam was being rained down on the dance floor where all the would-be raiders, instantly shattering their ranks and causing the entire group to crumble. Shit, there's no way they'll be able to fight back now... The young woman breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that the balcony and the rest of the top floor were spared from the onslaught. She started trying to formulate a plan of action and think of what she could do. Maybe she could sneak into the main room and sabotage a little to run interference.

All thoughts went out the window when she spotted Conrad Carter emerging from within the steam cloud. Maybe there was a golden opportunity to get their point across to these thugs and make all the injuries worthwhile. Hikari took a deep breath, looking around for anything that she could use to help. Maybe she can distract him long enough for Takae or someone else to intervene. Wait, is that...? With Hari here maybe we can get something done. I can work in tandem with him to confuse and t- Ah shit. All of Hikari's efforts to start a plan quickly had to change as soon as she spotted Hari running up to kick the boss in the head.

Taking a deep breath, Hikari slid her hand down to her ankle, pulling out a simple knife. Hikari knew she couldn't just leave Hari to fight alone, and she wasn't sure whether there'd be more retaliation awaiting them, so she had to do something. Her hand slid into the wall, vanishing through the shadows and emerging behind Conrad. She threw her knife in his direction before sliding her hand back out of the wall and sliding into the shadows entirely. Hikari's body emerged behind the doors of the room she found on the second floor. It was time for Hikari to find any useful intel she could gather while the battle was going on downstairs.

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

JIÀN QIÁNG

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH]

LOCATION:

Place of the Battle, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

(Eiji, Mitsuki, Kygo, Adol, Carmen)

BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH

Dancing in circles. That's what this man was doing. Clearly, these attackers came with a motive related to this legend. And whether or not Jiàn made a mistake in telling him? Only time would tell. For now, there was a district to defend and invaders to dispatch of.

It would've been easy for Jiàn to do as told. To leave the East to its destruction by these attackers; hide out in some distant house unmarred by flames and crimson. But they tried appeasement once—Jiàn wasn't about to let these people kick them around. Not again.

And unfortunately, there was no way to know if the mystery man would get out of harm's way. It was a true shame, they felt. The next time they met, blood would certainly be spilled. Jiàn took their supplies and drove off in the Benel Mark III.

The local water tower was a relic of olden days. Built where the first house of this city once was, it watched over the neighborhood like their very own Eiffel Tower. But the last time it was properly maintained was decades ago. Its metal feet were corroded and chipped. Flakes came off in piles like leaves, exposing an ugly mess of scratchy steel underneath. Dirtied and torn papers remained barely stapled on them, petitioning for it to be restored. But why should the local council waste precious funds on a rusty old thing that still held its weight? What was in it for them?

For once, the people had the council's inaction to thank for their lives.

To answer the mystery man's question, Jiàn knew exactly what car the Benel Mark III was. They also knew the man who drove it; that he loved to rev up the engine and burn rubber on the roads. This make was known for its high horsepower. And now, with a spool of steel cable bolted to the body and the cable fastened around the water tower's leg, it was time to see the weight of its bragging.

The car started up with a lurch. Jiàn drove around a second leg, then under the water tower and behind the remaining two supports. They left a brick on the gas, disappearing through the escalating roars of the engine.

Then a groan, bellowing across the block like an awakening dragon. Decayed metal crunched and yielded. The water tower tilted. Sloshing water faintly pierced through the metal container. Smoke rose from the car hood. Its tires ran ragged.

Then a snap. A jolt. Steel screamed as the legs bent inward, and the water tower fell.

The entire blaze flooded. The waves swept people closest off their feet, though the force died down by the time it reached the bulk of the forces. They were more inconvenienced than anything—the freezing water went above their ankles and into their shoes.

What none of them expected was the spare 16-volt car battery pillaged from the car enthusiast's garage. One which was thrown from a rooftop—severed wires sparkling—and hit the water with a splash.

18 raiders spasmed. 18 laid face-down in the water. Zero of them moved again.

Onto the next one.

A hulking man in the church, threatening to squeeze the priest's skull into giblets. Han Zihao, the college student, got a good look at him and his overwhelming height. Right now, Adol and Eiji kept him occupied, letting Jiàn head to their location.

The Crescendo landed on the church roof, gripping their war fans tightly. Folded, their rear ends presented a dagger-like blade—perfect for precise stabbings. Han Zihao still had eyes. The bald man was in the same spot, faced north, towering above the others by about two to three feet, slightly left of the entrance, head tilted upward; at which Jiàn held their blades at a higher angle to compensate. No attackers nearby who could interrupt, save for the basement creature—but they were too physically separated to worry Jiàn.

Taking a breath, Jiàn Qiáng jumped. They jammed the blades deep into Okubo's eyes.

thebigfella simj26 Stern LuLuLu

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

REEVAN VAZ

CS Link

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Charlotte, Calcis Barker, Julie Wayne

PANIC IN PARADISE

Patiently, he listened as Charlotte spoke. From her gentle teasing to her immediate backtracking, all the way to her disparaging perspective on their current situation, he found it all pleasantly entertaining. Despite her griping — as some say the older generation is oft to do — there was a tinge of genuine longing in her inflection. Between the lines of her words, she secretly demanded Father Time to bend a knee and rewind history back to a golden age only known to her. A time long since passed.

Though knowing this, he uttered no words of consolation. Instead, he finished his drink and watched as a wary server immediately took to his side, allowing him to set his finished glass on a plate teeming with other stained dishes. When the busboy eventually skipped away with a few clinks and a shake, Reevan brought a gloved hand to rest near the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses. Only now did he decide to respond.

"Power," he began to say, his voice dripping with ridicule, "is based on perspective. It comes in many forms, yet has one defining weakness: it is fleeting." His gaze now fixated on something in the distance, far removed from the bustle of dance and drink laid before him. What he saw, however, was a mystery to anyone but him.

"With a gentle nudge," he continued, lazily motioning his hand as if he were to knock over a chess piece, "those with seemingly everything can find themselves with nothing. That's why it's imperative to think. Continuously rack your brain until you've outsmarted those who wish to take away what is rightfully yours. One is only truly powerful when the notion is undisputed." Reevan had a satisfied grin resting on his face as if he were a professor finishing an insightful lecture to a classroom filled with bright-eyed students.

Then, he turned to face Charlotte for the first time since the beginning of their conversation.

"An idle mind is the devil's workshop," he preached, reciting a favorite adage of his, which the Archivist tended to do.

Suddenly, a command echoed in the faceless woman's head with a monotonous tone, if not robotic. It was an occurrence that happened more often than not within the Luciano Family.

If you find yourself in the throes of boredom, I have a potential answer to your woes. Mr. Burnwood looks quite content while cozying up to the young master. Use your expertise to discover their plotting and report it to me. Perhaps this will give you some reprieve from the light-hearted nature this gathering begets.

Afterward, Reevan suddenly shifted his attention to the two heading in his direction. He gave them a wave of acknowledgment before leaving Charlotte to do as told. There was no need to issue an order twice.

"Ms. Wayne, I see you've finally arrived! I hope the trip here was a pleasant one?" He spoke in a refined manner that befitted his princely aura, heading toward them with purpose — dignified and graceful — until he eventually stood tall before the comely woman and her temporarily assigned guard. Peering down, the chains on his glasses slipped past his hair, revealing their finely interwoven diamond-embedded design. He wore a serene if not pleasantly intrigued, expression.

"Did I overhear someone mention dancing?" he chipperly asked, lifting his velvet eyes to meet with Calcis'. "I think that sounds like a lovely idea." His noble behavior never ceased. Reevan was in his element.

The reason for his being here could finally commence.

Tags: aaace_ Arvios gxxberkit SoupMan0512 thebigfella

 

[Shadow]

Kygo Akainen

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

Some distance above the East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

(Eiji, Mitsuki, Carmen, Adol, Jiàn)

Bite Back and Tear Through

A wash of hot air flooded around him, the gurgling pulse of the ground mimicking the last breaths of the henchman at his feet. Overlaying them, an acute throb from the demon's heart came viscerally into his mind.
Kygo's brows furrowed and his eyes scanned over the figure of his opponent, trying to determine what had caused the shift in his aura.

Perhaps the blood Kygo had spilled was valuable to the samurai in some way, a bizarre emotional tie that couldn't have been predicted?

But the visage of surrender halted his urge to make the first move: a subtle instinct directing him to forego the apparent chance to seize an advantage, stilling his hands. And his concerns were quickly justified by the escalating rumble from the earth, a boiling over of powers so intense that he never even had a thought to run.
Turning his back to this would be instant death, and crouching low to the ground that was crumbling around him offered only a slight improvement to his odds for survival, it would seem.

There was no fear, no reflexive tremble in his chest at the display: for which he had to be grateful, but he was not unaffected.

A dizzying array of unfamiliar sensations was rippling up through his feet, dampened only somewhat by his rubber-soled shoes, as a ring of the earth's crust broke around him and began to rise into the air.
Rolling in from the distance, a horrific screech of steel twisting and snapping against itself loudly informed his left ear of another state of affairs. It caused his head to jerk sideways in discomfort, shoulders lifting toward his ears as if to protect them, since his earmuffs had apparently forgotten their purpose.

Everything was unbearably loud.
But it was the sickening crack of a skull against the pavement that lashed out from the whirlwind of sounds that were assaulting him; sending his mind reeling back toward a time he had tried to suppress beneath other memories.

Kygo's knees fell out from under him and he knelt limply, arms resting gently in his lap while their newly minted arena pressed up further into the atmosphere.
He tried not to vomit, tried to forget her name in his mouth.

When the memory fell away, though, he was aware of nothing but the incredible peace of the emptiness surrounding him, enveloping his overstimulated senses in a comforting void of silence.
Not even his own heartbeat, fluttering uncomfortably in his chest, or his breathing, shallow as it was, could disrupt the relief brought on by the sudden calm.
He was relieved, too, to have his overcoat atop layers of long-sleeved shirts; they were suddenly much more practical at this height, above the oppressive heat of the summer evening with its volcanic accents.

"Oh," he exhaled delicately, pupils blown wide as he slowly sucked the oxygen-sparse air into his lungs and pushed himself to his feet. "It's so quiet. Can I-" but his request was cut off by the alarming speed of the demon's strike, giving him barely enough time to raise his blades to guard his chest and take the blow.

His karambit knives hadn't been intended for blocking attacks directly, but his instinct had betrayed them: his right hand felt the impact reverberate down to the mid-point of the handle before it snapped, rendering itself useless to him now. A soft whimper of regret escaped him, and it was hardly a comfort that the demon's cross-bladed attack wasn't meant to be easily deflected anyway.
Even he could sense a tilt of the battlefield in that moment, turning to favor the demon for this display: finally revealing the extent of his abilities just when Kygo's luck had run out.

But the demon hadn't let up the pressure from his attack yet, and that unexpected strength was pushing him toward the stomach-clenching precipice at his back, demanding that he put his full effort into bracing against it to keep his footing. Both hands now bolstered a single blade against those dual katanas, and his mind raced to assess any move that wouldn't send him hurtling through the air, to the ground so far below them.

In a sudden, brief moment of clarity within that struggle, Kygo realized the blades of the katanas weren't the finely crafted, sharpened weapons he had assumed them to be: instead, their jagged, dulled edges notched against the smooth edge of his knife and stared him down, promising to cause undue agony should his grip fail him.

If his timing was off, this was going to hurt.

All in a moment, he pressed his weight into his left foot and stopped resisting the pressure from the katanas, pivoted his hips and dropped low in an effort to allow the demon's blades to swing above his head. As his side-stepped toward the center of their arena, shattered earth offered nothing for his feet to grip and it took an extra breath to regain his footing. Trying to compensate, he brought his blade up protectively and widened his stance, anticipating a follow-up strike from the demon.

 

[luciferin]

CHOJI NAKAYA

- CS Link

SCENE:

Guroko Assoc. Arc 1: Scene 1 [Hostile Takeover]

LOCATION:

The Quarter, South Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

RoninN7

Hostile Takeover

Ah, Choji realizes, retracting his arm with a hint of disappointment. There really weren’t any Alleycats in there. He’d been hoping for an opportunity to contribute something meaningful and get a head start on that recognition his Patriarch wanted. Still, the raid is just beginning. Choji’s sure there’ll be plenty of opportunities to come.

With that in mind, he piles in with the rest of the newbies like pigs to feed, spilling through the front door and into the slaughterhouse.

While the more cautious members stream in, he takes the opportunity to evaluate their surroundings. The floor is all discarded drinks and smoldering cigarettes. The water trickling down from above keeps the place from going up in flames, but Choji snuffs them out with his shoe as he makes his way to a cracked doorway nevertheless.

Peering in through the door reveals a service corridor, likely meant for custodians based on the janitorial cart abandoned in the middle of the hallway. Perhaps this is where the missing Alleycats went? Choji steps in, intending to clear the area before calling his colleagues over. Not everyone can eat lead like it’s simply a warmup for the main course, after all.

He’s still in the process of checking the first few doors for Alleycats or traps when the door swings shut behind him and seals itself with a ringing click. A couple of firm shakes to the door handle confirm that it’s locked, and by then, steam has already started to leak into the room, accompanied by shrill screams. Choji lifts his hand, intending to rejoin the fight, only to freeze at the stench of burnt flesh. It takes several seconds for him to snap back into motion.

A hand over his nose wards off the worst of it, and—as the screams fall to low moans, signaling the end of the burning—he bursts down the door’s hinges, kicks it half open, and backpedals before the intensified smell can make its way over. Hopefully, some of his fallen associates can take the opportunity to escape their fate of becoming collateral damage in the ensuing fight. If not, then, well, there’s not much else he can do, not when joining in will incapacitate his Potential.

Choji turns his gaze from the carnage, focuses on the mission, and retreats down the hall, taking the stairs up when he finds them. It’s time to see if there’s anyone who needs some convincing before they decide to relinquish the club.

On the second level, the service door swings open silently, and Choji steps out, not bothering to shield his body behind it for either stealth or protection as he surveys his surroundings. Luckily, after presenting himself as an open target, Choji interlocks gazes with Hiraki rather than an enemy. Recognizing someone familiar, he lifts a hand in greeting, his soft smile totally incongruous with their surroundings.

 

[kakemha]

THE METAL ANGEL

CS Link

SCENE:

Guroko Assoc. Arc 1: Scene 1 [Hostile Takeover]

LOCATION:

The Quarter, South Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Hari BriiAngelic , Conrad thebigfella

Hostile Takeover

'Shit' Takae swore at herself in her head. Of course, The Alleycats would have some kind of dirty backup plan. The steam quickly spread across the club. The swarms of Guroko's screamed in pain as they made contact with the steam. This raid might be even more tricky than she initially thought. She needed to come up with a plan quickly. But there was no one else she could see aside from the Association's troops. Where were the Allycats? If they caused the steam, they must be somewhere in the building.

But as fast as that thought crossed her mind, the very leader of the gang emerged amidst the chaos. The silhouette of Conrad Carter slowly became clearer to her as he made his way out of the steam. With her current position in the club, she knew that she probably had a pretty good chance of striking him out of the blue. That would be taking into account that he wasn't aware of her presence in the club amidst the chaos happening around Conrad.

However, she held off for now. She wanted to see if there were any other major players Otose hired for this raid. And her question was soon answered as she caught a glimpse of Hari. A sense of relief set in her knowing that there was someone else here that held the possibility to turn the tides of the fight. That relief further set in seeing Hari aim right for Conard's head. Looks like he was going right in for a fight.

Takae recognized this as an opportunity to strike. A double attack might just need what they need to gain the upper hand. Something caught her eye. Right behind Conrad, a knife was flying towards his back. Perfect of her. Anything metal can and will be used as a weapon. Using her HP, she split the blade of the knife into multiple points. It may not hurt as much on impact, but with multiple points to lose blood, it could do its fair share of damage.

 

[Stern LuLuLu]

View attachment 1139116

Adol L. Crush

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH]

LOCATION:

Place of the Battle, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Eiji, Mitsuki, Kygo, Jiàn, Carmen

Bite Back and Tear Throughh

Okubo even after getting hit with the harsh words from the priest didn’t that down from his assault. Simply feigning as if you have given up, taking the wind out of Adol’s sail. Before charging at Eiji, grabbing his face. But it seemed that Adol’s reputation precedes him. The fool of a monk called him out, and Adol could not let that go. He said that he would show him how a real man crushes something. The only thing that went to his head after that was that he had to show him why he had that name. Adol couldn’t help but start laughing right before he entered a full sprint. even ignoring what seems to be tremors and destruction in the distance. A strange aura surrounded it, Adol. Each step he took s seemed more stronger than the last, as the arua him grew larger. Until he was almost on top of Okubo. He made a small jump as he swung his sledgehammer all of the strange aura, going to his arms and the hammer. Intending on, splitting Okubo‘s arm down the middle starting from his back to ending where his hands lay on Eiji’s face. Not care if Eiji got caught up in it as well. While he swung his hammer, it seemed as if the hit was on a another level . Adol was so into what he was doing that he was not even aware that Jiàn had appeared. Seizing the opportunity that him, and Eiji gave her to plunge her blades into his eyes. But even if he did, it would not have stopped his assault. Before proceeding to take the sword he had stabbing it into his foot, pinning him to the ground.Tossing the sledgehammer to the side
Then to grab his face the same way he did Eiji while grabbing his non-mangled arm and his other freehand planning on crushing it the same way someone would a tub of toothpaste starting from the middle. doing the same to the rest of his limbs, even the mangled one.
“You’re right let’s see what would happen if you crush another man’s skull like this.”
The strange aura appeared around his hands this time as Adol was starting to squeeze it into the crushed skull in completely slowly as he went for the rest of Okubo‘s limbs.