buildingaspaceship
Walker Bait
(An adventurous roleplay between @buildingaspaceship and @Kahlan Crain )
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The Acquisition of Unique Artifacts
- Thread starter buildingaspaceship
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The Quiet Enigma
Name: Katrina Morena
Age: 21
Height: 5’4
Weight: 125
Eye Colour: Light Gray
Hair Colour: Dark Maroon Red<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/Katrina.jpg.2d90bdeebeed2b9a75ce2ed79b4d1224.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="32393" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/Katrina.jpg.2d90bdeebeed2b9a75ce2ed79b4d1224.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
Age: 21
Height: 5’4
Weight: 125
Eye Colour: Light Gray
Hair Colour: Dark Maroon Red<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/Katrina.jpg.2d90bdeebeed2b9a75ce2ed79b4d1224.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="32393" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/Katrina.jpg.2d90bdeebeed2b9a75ce2ed79b4d1224.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
Attachments
buildingaspaceship
Walker Bait
Name: Carlton Wendell
Age: 22
Height: 5'10
Weight: 149
Eye Colour: Pitch Black
Hair Colour: Dirty Blonde/Brown
Age: 22
Height: 5'10
Weight: 149
Eye Colour: Pitch Black
Hair Colour: Dirty Blonde/Brown
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The Quiet Enigma
Ever since Katrina was a young child, she had been fascinated by the idea of different realms and creatures. Her father's occupation in retrieving historical artifacts from cultures around the world was no help to her imagination. Katrina was raised to believe in all things. All cultural differences, possibilities, and legends. As she grew, her adventurous side did as well. Soon, she was going on adventures of her own. Her father had grown too old to venture to far lands, so she did the physical work of retrieving the artifacts. For compensation, her father let her choose what artifact to go after, and choose the new home for such artifacts. Many went to historical museums, but some ended up in her personal collection. Most commonly, the oddities and mystical artifacts found themselves amongst her walls.
A few months after her twenty-first birthday, her father passed. The father-daughter hobby of collecting artifacts did not die along with her father. Katrina's curiosity led her to study more. Her interest in the paranormal, mythical, and demonic increased. Her thirst for knowledge led her to a certain artifact. A necklace. Not just any ordinary necklace. Legends states that this necklace once belonged to the wife of one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse; Death. Legend speaks of this necklace giving the wearer the power to walk to the land between life and death. Purgatory. This artifact became the center of Katrina's research. She devoted her life to finding this artifact. This research guided her to visit an abandoned mansion in South Carolina. She was told of a man who may be able to help her in her quest. She hoped to meet this man, and, with any luck, convince the man to help her on her quest.
Katrina stood in front of an early Victorian mansion. The mansion was worn down from years of neglect. Katrina concluded that the property laid dormant; the owner long passed. Her light gray eyes scanned the surrounding area. She hoped to come across any sign of the man she was told about. Her dark maroon red hair shined in the afternoon sun. Her hair covered most of her face, curving from her neck down to her mid-back. Her black, fitted cargo pants and hiking boots resembled the attire one would see on an archaeologist. A large gray jacket hid her rather slender, small figure.
A few months after her twenty-first birthday, her father passed. The father-daughter hobby of collecting artifacts did not die along with her father. Katrina's curiosity led her to study more. Her interest in the paranormal, mythical, and demonic increased. Her thirst for knowledge led her to a certain artifact. A necklace. Not just any ordinary necklace. Legends states that this necklace once belonged to the wife of one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse; Death. Legend speaks of this necklace giving the wearer the power to walk to the land between life and death. Purgatory. This artifact became the center of Katrina's research. She devoted her life to finding this artifact. This research guided her to visit an abandoned mansion in South Carolina. She was told of a man who may be able to help her in her quest. She hoped to meet this man, and, with any luck, convince the man to help her on her quest.
Katrina stood in front of an early Victorian mansion. The mansion was worn down from years of neglect. Katrina concluded that the property laid dormant; the owner long passed. Her light gray eyes scanned the surrounding area. She hoped to come across any sign of the man she was told about. Her dark maroon red hair shined in the afternoon sun. Her hair covered most of her face, curving from her neck down to her mid-back. Her black, fitted cargo pants and hiking boots resembled the attire one would see on an archaeologist. A large gray jacket hid her rather slender, small figure.
buildingaspaceship
Walker Bait
Carlton Wendell waited in the dark shadows of the abandoned attic which he had called home for much less than two hours. His hands were behind his back, and he watched out of the broken and dirty window pane, his gaze resting on the pathway leading up to the locked front doors of the Victorian mansion in which he currently stood. He had gotten inside through a hole in the wall at the back of the house, which he had found when he was exploring the setting in which his friend, well, acquaintance, had told him to be at at the specific time of 3:30pm. Naturally, he had been there earlier, never missing a chance to explore a new setting and see what he could find, if anything.
And he'd found a whole lot of nothing.
The wallpaper was peeling, and a few abandoned items of furniture were scattered around the dusty rooms. It was obvious that some people had been inside since the death or abandonment of the houses owner. Teenagers probably, looking for somewhere to 'hang out' and get drunk, much like he had when he was a little younger. At the age of twenty two, partying wasn't foreign to Carlton, but it wasn't something he did frequently.
Raised in Britain in the quiet part of the countryside by his grandfather, an estranged man who believed in the supernatural and other strange ideas, Carlton had been shunned from his peers for most of his life. His grandfather always seemed crazy to him. At certain times of the year, he would be frantic and wild, forbidding Carlton to leave the house, not even for school. Naturally, anyone would think that a family member like this was insane, and at times Carlton wished he could leave for a much more normal life.
Until he experienced it for himself.
He remembered the cold and tight grasp of that creature that had him by the arm. The feeling of it slicing into its skin with its dark talons. And God, he could remember its eyes, staring into his soul as it...
Carlton shook his head, forget that, he thought to himself, it isn't useful to the task.
He looked down at the far off floor again, his pitch black eyes seeing a dark blur on the pathway below him. It was time. He ran a hand through his own dirty blonde hair and he turned his back on the window, before walking down the creaking steps of the building, their narrow halls almost making him feel like the walls were closing in. His black boots echoed loudly off the walls of the house as he took each step, and he walked to the entrance hallway of the house instead of the back where he had entered. He steadied himself, before raising his boot and kicking the door open, though it didn't take much force. The wood was decaying, unused, and easy to break away. The hinges were knackered anyway.
He took a few quick steps out of the house and into the glow of the afternoon light, looking down at the girl in front of him. He hadn't expected a girl, if he was honest, but then he hadn't expected much. Most of his acquaintances set him up with times and places, only for the people not to show. Nerves, he usually expected. Or self doubt. But this girl didn't seem to be feeling any of that. He walked down the creaking steps, skipping over the one that was missing, and walked down the path until he was face to face with the girl. He slowly and steadily extended a hand for her to shake, his other in the pocket of his dark jeans. He spoke then, his voice heavy with a British accent, "Carlton Wendell, I expect you're here to see me?"
And he'd found a whole lot of nothing.
The wallpaper was peeling, and a few abandoned items of furniture were scattered around the dusty rooms. It was obvious that some people had been inside since the death or abandonment of the houses owner. Teenagers probably, looking for somewhere to 'hang out' and get drunk, much like he had when he was a little younger. At the age of twenty two, partying wasn't foreign to Carlton, but it wasn't something he did frequently.
Raised in Britain in the quiet part of the countryside by his grandfather, an estranged man who believed in the supernatural and other strange ideas, Carlton had been shunned from his peers for most of his life. His grandfather always seemed crazy to him. At certain times of the year, he would be frantic and wild, forbidding Carlton to leave the house, not even for school. Naturally, anyone would think that a family member like this was insane, and at times Carlton wished he could leave for a much more normal life.
Until he experienced it for himself.
He remembered the cold and tight grasp of that creature that had him by the arm. The feeling of it slicing into its skin with its dark talons. And God, he could remember its eyes, staring into his soul as it...
Carlton shook his head, forget that, he thought to himself, it isn't useful to the task.
He looked down at the far off floor again, his pitch black eyes seeing a dark blur on the pathway below him. It was time. He ran a hand through his own dirty blonde hair and he turned his back on the window, before walking down the creaking steps of the building, their narrow halls almost making him feel like the walls were closing in. His black boots echoed loudly off the walls of the house as he took each step, and he walked to the entrance hallway of the house instead of the back where he had entered. He steadied himself, before raising his boot and kicking the door open, though it didn't take much force. The wood was decaying, unused, and easy to break away. The hinges were knackered anyway.
He took a few quick steps out of the house and into the glow of the afternoon light, looking down at the girl in front of him. He hadn't expected a girl, if he was honest, but then he hadn't expected much. Most of his acquaintances set him up with times and places, only for the people not to show. Nerves, he usually expected. Or self doubt. But this girl didn't seem to be feeling any of that. He walked down the creaking steps, skipping over the one that was missing, and walked down the path until he was face to face with the girl. He slowly and steadily extended a hand for her to shake, his other in the pocket of his dark jeans. He spoke then, his voice heavy with a British accent, "Carlton Wendell, I expect you're here to see me?"
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The Quiet Enigma
Katrina looked to her watch, wondering if the man she was told about was going to show. She was suspicious about being given a meeting place and time, but not a name of whom she was meeting. She pulled out a crumpled note from her pocket. The piece of paper had scribbled directions written upon it with the time of 3:30. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she looked around, the silence surrounding the mansion was deafening. The eerie sounds of silence was then abruptly interrupted by the sound of the front door of the mansion being kicked off the hinges. She turned to face the entrance of the mansion, watching the man walk down the steps toward her. Katrina stared at the man walked towards her, studying the physique and appearance of the man just in case she needed to recall who she met at a later date. Her eyes stopped upon sight of the man's eyes. She was awestruck by the man's pitch black eyes. Curious about the story behind those eyes. She had seem many pictures of men with black eyes, but most of them were from legends. The man in front of her was already an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and she loved a good mystery.
"Pleasure to meet you Carlton. I'm Katrina Morena. Thank you for meeting me here." Katrina said as her hand reached out and shook his hand. Her grip was strong, but not too strong to be considered a threat. "I was told that you would be able to help me with information of a certain object..." Her voice trailed off as she withdrew her hand and reached into her jacket pocket. She brought out a small black, leather book with a gold ribbon placed as a marker. She opened to the marked page and took out a sketch of a necklace. She held it out for the man to take. "Do you know what that is?" Katrina asked, fully knowing what the necklace was, but wanted to see if the man was a knowledgeable as her informant said he was. The necklace wasn't a glamorous as many would expect. The necklace was very modest and simple. The sketch showed a simple teardrop shaped stone upon a chain which had links that resembled that of chain mail.
"Pleasure to meet you Carlton. I'm Katrina Morena. Thank you for meeting me here." Katrina said as her hand reached out and shook his hand. Her grip was strong, but not too strong to be considered a threat. "I was told that you would be able to help me with information of a certain object..." Her voice trailed off as she withdrew her hand and reached into her jacket pocket. She brought out a small black, leather book with a gold ribbon placed as a marker. She opened to the marked page and took out a sketch of a necklace. She held it out for the man to take. "Do you know what that is?" Katrina asked, fully knowing what the necklace was, but wanted to see if the man was a knowledgeable as her informant said he was. The necklace wasn't a glamorous as many would expect. The necklace was very modest and simple. The sketch showed a simple teardrop shaped stone upon a chain which had links that resembled that of chain mail.
buildingaspaceship
Walker Bait
"The pleasure is mine." Katrina Morena. He thought the name to himself, it had a ring to it, like a nursery rhyme sung by children. Something you would remember forever, the tune never able to leave your head. He studied her now that he was up close, his mind sketching out every detail of her and imprinting it into his brain. A face to a name.
Carlton's eyes lingered on her light grey ones for a moment, before he lowered his gaze to the sketch that she was offering him, and he raised his hand and took it. He looked in her eyes again before looking down at the sheet, aiming to identify the object she was after. When he examined the sheet of paper, he knew exactly what it was with one single look. Deaths necklace. A solemn expression took over his face and he looked back up at Katrina, shifting his body weight so that he was leaning on one leg, he offered the sketch back to her. "I know what that is. And you don't need me to tell you. Anyone who comes looking for information about the thing already knows its name, what it is. Who it belonged to. I suspect you're the same." He says, then narrows his eyes slightly, a puzzled expression coming across his face. "Why do you need information on it?" His question wasn't harsh, it was curious. There were never many times that someone had come asking about this particular object, and the times where they did Carlton had refused to help them at all.
Most times, they would be after the necklace for selfish purposes, to take it and use it was one thing, an understandable and curious thing that even Carlton wanted to do. But to sell it, to make a fortune off something so precious? Well to Carlton that was like throwing a baby in a bonfire.
Carlton's eyes lingered on her light grey ones for a moment, before he lowered his gaze to the sketch that she was offering him, and he raised his hand and took it. He looked in her eyes again before looking down at the sheet, aiming to identify the object she was after. When he examined the sheet of paper, he knew exactly what it was with one single look. Deaths necklace. A solemn expression took over his face and he looked back up at Katrina, shifting his body weight so that he was leaning on one leg, he offered the sketch back to her. "I know what that is. And you don't need me to tell you. Anyone who comes looking for information about the thing already knows its name, what it is. Who it belonged to. I suspect you're the same." He says, then narrows his eyes slightly, a puzzled expression coming across his face. "Why do you need information on it?" His question wasn't harsh, it was curious. There were never many times that someone had come asking about this particular object, and the times where they did Carlton had refused to help them at all.
Most times, they would be after the necklace for selfish purposes, to take it and use it was one thing, an understandable and curious thing that even Carlton wanted to do. But to sell it, to make a fortune off something so precious? Well to Carlton that was like throwing a baby in a bonfire.
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The Quiet Enigma
Katrina studied the man's face as he looked at the picture. She looked for any sign that he knew the significance of the necklace. She had to be sure that this man was who he said he was. Since she was not given a name, picture, or any information on whom she was meeting, she wanted to make sure that the man was not an eavesdropper pretending to be the man she was meant to meet. Katrina wasn't about to tell him all she knew about the necklace without some reassurance that he wasn't just a thief looking for a new artifact to obtain and sell. Her and her father had come across many thieves and treasure hunters throughout her years. The number of artifacts that had been taken for the black market were exponentially high. Many wealthy men of power hired mercenaries and con men to steal information that her and her father had collected over her lifespan.
The man's reaction was something to be expected from someone who knew the power of the necklace. A small smile came across her face as she watched the man for any other reaction. She felt a small ounce of reassurance that he was not an eavesdropper or hired man. Over the years, she had learned that the hired men, and occasionally women, would not react to a mere picture without having a general idea of the legends and stories behind the object. Katrina replace the picture in her journal before putting her journal back into her jacket pocket. "I am looking for information regarding the trials for this artifact. Is there somewhere we can go to discuss this further. I prefer not talking in the open about artifacts such as this." Katrina said in a soft voice, cautious about her surroundings.
((Sorry my reply isn't the best. I'm feeling a tad bit under the weather.))
The man's reaction was something to be expected from someone who knew the power of the necklace. A small smile came across her face as she watched the man for any other reaction. She felt a small ounce of reassurance that he was not an eavesdropper or hired man. Over the years, she had learned that the hired men, and occasionally women, would not react to a mere picture without having a general idea of the legends and stories behind the object. Katrina replace the picture in her journal before putting her journal back into her jacket pocket. "I am looking for information regarding the trials for this artifact. Is there somewhere we can go to discuss this further. I prefer not talking in the open about artifacts such as this." Katrina said in a soft voice, cautious about her surroundings.
((Sorry my reply isn't the best. I'm feeling a tad bit under the weather.))
buildingaspaceship
Walker Bait
((It's okay, we all feel like that sometimes! Also, don't feel like you have to rush to reply if you feel bad, just let me know and I will understand 
))
Carlton nodded his head, licking his lips as he thought over the potential danger he could put himself, and her, in, by following through with even research. And he still wasn't sure why she needed to do the trials, whether or not she wanted the artifact for research or for money. He needed to make sure of this before he let her anywhere near information regarding the Horsemen or the necklace itself. Carlton chews his bottom lip for a second before nodding his head slowly.
"I- Yes. But you need to tell me first," He says, closing his eyes for a second before narrowing them and looking into her eyes. Something about his eye colour often unnerved people, and made it easier to get what he wanted, and the information that he wanted. "I refuse to give information to you, unless you tell me exactly how much money you are selling this artifact for."
It pained him to even think of the idea of selling it, but he had to ask. It was a trick, in some ways. If she told him a number, he wouldn't tell her, if she refused to tell him a number, he'd tell her to go somewhere else. But... If she didn't fall for the trick, or just simply wasn't going to sell it, and didn't like the idea of it as much as he didn't, then he would gladly tell her everything she needed to know in order to help her find it. He would take her to the den, and introduce her to his trusty pals.
Books.
Just books.
))Carlton nodded his head, licking his lips as he thought over the potential danger he could put himself, and her, in, by following through with even research. And he still wasn't sure why she needed to do the trials, whether or not she wanted the artifact for research or for money. He needed to make sure of this before he let her anywhere near information regarding the Horsemen or the necklace itself. Carlton chews his bottom lip for a second before nodding his head slowly.
"I- Yes. But you need to tell me first," He says, closing his eyes for a second before narrowing them and looking into her eyes. Something about his eye colour often unnerved people, and made it easier to get what he wanted, and the information that he wanted. "I refuse to give information to you, unless you tell me exactly how much money you are selling this artifact for."
It pained him to even think of the idea of selling it, but he had to ask. It was a trick, in some ways. If she told him a number, he wouldn't tell her, if she refused to tell him a number, he'd tell her to go somewhere else. But... If she didn't fall for the trick, or just simply wasn't going to sell it, and didn't like the idea of it as much as he didn't, then he would gladly tell her everything she needed to know in order to help her find it. He would take her to the den, and introduce her to his trusty pals.
Books.
Just books.
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The Quiet Enigma
Katrina let out a soft chuckle. Her head shook side to side as she placed her hands into her pockets. Suspicion. An emotion that she understood completely. No one could be too careful about whom they talk to about such sensitive topics and information. It would be easy for someone to consider her to be an untrustworthy person without any knowledge of who she was or what she does. Katrina leaned in close and looked into Carlton's eyes, focusing on his pitch black eyes as she spoke in a clear, precise voice, "I do not sell artifacts. I have spent my entire life collecting artifacts of all natures with my father. I collect them to donate to museums or to keep safe from the men who want them out of greed or revenge. Now, you can either trust me and help me find it, or we risk it falling into very dangerous hands." The look on Katrina's face turned stern, her voice hung on the last words to provide emphasis. "Now, do you have a better place for us to speak? One without the risk of listening ears?"
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