Beleth
Senior Member
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Fantasy The Last Judgement
- Thread starter Hell0NHighWater
- Start date
Chise_Robin_
procrastination queen
Last edited:
BasiliskVeranda
80s Trash
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[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]
𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn, 1st floor
OOC: skipped a lot of stuff because it's going a bit fast for me. sorry.
TAGS:
BELIAL.
(Always Smarter),
Beleth
(Cockney Accents Are Charming),
thefinalgirl
(New phone who dis),
Lakyr
(Sass Masters, Both)
BGM — MOLLY NILSSON - I HOPE YOU DIE
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks][div class=tops] ⛧ ⛧ ⛧[/div][div class=speakstoo]"So, am I disturbing anything?", another woman introduced herself, but Nik had more on his mind than offering olive branches and trying to kumbaya-it-up at the moment. He made a gruff noise of acknowledgement. In any other circumstance he'd be offering a wave and a half-smile, genial and bright like a thousand suns. Now, no. Because all that had befallen them was just too raw and real.
"...possibly. Probably. Hello, yes. Please, welcome to the shitshow," he was unusually dull in shine and biting on the edge of his words. But could anyone blame him?
It had only just happened, souring him down to scowls and an angled brow. Face pale, gaze distant, like his mind was anywhere but here. That's because it was, coasting over the horizon, thinking of all the worst things that could befall the others. Thinking of the time they were wasting.
He thought on the others, on Daisy who he hadn't seen since last night...Kayden, also missing. His favorite state, a pet-name of genuine affection for the one he thought of as his sister. And...
Nik didn't want to let the thoughts of what could be happening to them—to him—claw underneath his skin. So he would make himself useful, it was all he could do to stop from playing the worst-case scenarios over and over again in his mind. A horrific set of movies set to the drumbeat of his heart, he wish he could change the channel, but it was harder than pulling blood from a stone.
“We’ll need all the help we can get. If you can lend your magic, go right ahead and get your things back. But if there’s any sort of betrayal you’re planning once you get your stuff, I will personally see to it that justice is dealt. You understand where I’m coming from, correct? These people are important to us.” The deal was stuck, his light in the dark shaking Allea's hand, sealing their promise.
“If you’re brother’s been taken by the same raiders, we should all work together. Three witches are better than none, or so I’ve heard. If you help us get our people back, we’ll help you get him back.” There were so many witches, another thing he didn't quite understand. The Witch in Queens hadn't given him that much of an education on the subject.
Living his prior life safely in a little bubble, where the impossible fantasies of the world were very far away, he had remained ignorant by design. As anachronistic as it was, he had preferred it that way.
Mysticism through art, only. The mysteries of life and what made fire from nothing, what spurred holy light or cured the pains of men and women alike...it was too complicated. Beyond him. And so with his older troupe of friends, in the time before, hadn't let it in. Cloistered, sequestered, safe.
“I need to help heal some of our people. Afterward, we’ll talk. All of us, alright? We’re going to work together, gosh dangit, or so help me. We’re getting our people back, your things, and your brother, and we’re going to do it together. The more power we have, the more likely we are to defeat whatever magic and whatever bullcrap is behind these raiders. They need to be stopped… who knows how many other people they’ve taken or taken from. It’s disgusting…” Nik didn't want to think on this, and instead rubbed his eyes with his free hand, the other lax at his side, cigarette twirling smoke into the air in a spire.
“Well you remember I’m a nurse, right? If you get tired of doing your best you can let the trained professional take over.”
"You can't take it all on by yourself. 'We're going to work together', remember?" he reminded Penny, chiding with a wag of his finger, his smile mild but still apparent, drawn on his face with a faint brushstroke. He leaned back against the chair and let out a sigh, hands behind his head, cigarette perched between his teeth.
His light in the dark worked her blessed skills, pressing against his wound to knit the muscle fibers back together, to heal him in a way he could not heal anyone else. A panacea for all, and he was just a pain killer. He smiled, and held her hand against his chest, she was warm. Always warm. But she faltered in a step, weakened by all this. As anyone would be, he thought.
She responded before he could say anything. She had to stop carrying them all on her back. She wouldn't last if she kept doing that...and he needed her.
“Were you shot? Here, let me see it. I’m a… nurse—er, well, I was I guess.” Again, trying to take it all on her shoulders.
"No, no. I got it, Pennysworth. Rest a bit. Let me play 'nurse' for a while, huh?" he dug in, he wasn't going to give Penny any say in the matter. She needed to rest. Though she had bandaged her own wound, she was still in pain. He took a moment to grace his fingers over her neck, turning her to get a better look, playing his palm over the skin that was bruising in purple watercolor splotches.
She'd feel better, but it wouldn't heal it. Nik was a drug, not a cure-all, not quite a medicine. Morphine. Not like her, not like Rhys. He could only numb. He couldn't make it better. It could just make it stop hurting.
"Say, mate, y’don’t suppose I can bartah yew for one’a them scappies, canni?” There was the accent again. Nik's expression shifted into the dawn of a half-smile beyond the darkness of his mood and prior expression.
"I can do better than that, sit, let me take a look at your wound," he said, flicking more ash on the ground because it didn't really matter if they cleaned up or not. The hotel was a disaster area now. He scooched the chair a bit with his foot, furthering the expanse between him and the chair, and learning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"I don't need anything from you. The one thing I want isn't here right now," this sentence was hollow like a glass cylinder, fragile words that painted him transparent with what he said, and yet his affect was blank. To say much more would hurt enough to stain him in all the colors of regret and sorrow. He couldn't afford it right now.
“Not much, I’d owe ye late'ah, though.”
"It's really fine, please. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, roight?" If the brit had managed to make his way towards him, Nik would start with cleaning out the wound, making sure the bullet went all the way through, and then patch him up. Since the affliction ran strong in his veins, and he had gotten a good deal less ignorant about his own unholy set of powers, there'd be no pain at all for the other man as he worked.
If the bullet hadn't gone clean through, there'd be a bit of digging. He'd need to sterilize a scalpel, and go in deep.
Regardless, by the end of their interaction, should he want Nik's help, he'd be patched up right as rain. If not, the blond would sit and stew, the cigarette between his lips the only thing keeping him focused if that were the case. He had to be useful, or he'd be destructive. And so he did the good thing, despite...wanting to give in to abject carnage.
Chase after, kill...kill because killing was a comfort in knowing he had some control over something. Here, he had no control, and because of this, anxiety etched up his veins. Flurried his heart, and all he could do was..be useful.
"Well, if I could ask for one thing I would love a cigarette right about now," James caught his attention, which wasn't hard. He'd always gravitate towards his young friend, for the deft camaraderie they shared.
"Always," Nik, of course, offered what he had. Striking out his arm in a long lean, to pass a cigarette between his fingers, to his young friend. He was worse for wear, obviously. Should James need it, Nik would play nurse. He wouldn't force the other man to be taken care of, but it was always on the table. His brother in arms...this was another warm glimmer he'd keep close to the chest.
He could only imagine what he was feeling and thinking right now. Alaska and James had had a brief moment together last night...Nik remembered being so proud of them. Happy for them. And now he was faced with her absence. It must have all been so confusing, and so...gut wrenching.
"I might need some stitching up, would appreciate your help," Ryan piped up at some point, the blond doling out whatever last reserves of his med kit he had. It was a small kit, the most he had right now was a handful of disinfectant, a needle he kept having to sterilize, and an abundance of fishing wire. Plenty of that. But gauze was being used up like it were oxygen.
"Got it, c'mere," it was, quiet literally an assembly line. At least it kept his hands busy. Idle hands are the devil's playground, and all that.
Nik's medkit was more or less gone at this point. All he could do was stitch wounds. The blond finished patching up those that needed it, and hung his head. Fingers through his hair, his cigarette almost to ash but still hanging on. Frustrated, listless, his heart ached in his chest. Like a bird's bleating wing, mixing his insides into the yolk of human distress.
Everyone was as patched up as they could be, and now he had nothing to do but stick more cigarettes into his mouth. Time passed, and he grew more twisted in on himself. However, at some point, he managed to rear the bag Rhys had so graciously gifted him into his lap. Without speaking much to anyone, he began...to create.
Impossible things, rendered in such slick silkiness, but beautifully disgusting all the same. His hands moved, he said nothing. Water taken, precious water, from his water bottle. It didn't matter. Creations of someone who had such darkness, but so many glimmers of beauty and light beyond that twilight affliction. Harrowed scrawling, because on these many little canvases, at least he could get some of it out. Make manifest his thoughts so they didn't wander into reality.
A better gift, no one else could've really given him. The art supplies were a life saver. Without them, without something to occupy these idle hands, he'd crack in half. Too many traumatic experiences, too soon, in rapid succession. They bled the soul clean out of him. Just a normal man, truly, deep down. Not a superhero.
Not a hero in any sense of the word.
Just a man, with charcoal dusting his hands black like the pitch of his affliction, and paint up his arms all the same. He sieved it out in waves, and occupied his time. If anyone spoke to him after he patched them up, he may have offered a nod or a handful of syllables. He couldn't manage more, because what he wanted to manage was brutality. And anymore bickering or posturing and he'd snap with words deep enough to draw blood.
When he couldn't stop his worse nature, he was vicious. It was buried beneath, as he swept his hands across the canvases, blackened dust into the air, smears up his arms in various colors. Like dancing with the fingers. Using those same fingers to broach between colors, because each tool served a purpose, even your hands.
Lost in his own little world to all.
Except perhaps for Penny, because she warmed him just by being at his side. If she spoke, he'd certainly try to make his mouth create words that were anything else but what he thought on. Which was a cacophony of fear and loss. Nik was doing a good job at displacing it, now that he could, that is.
Words didn't—couldn't—do enough. Words were so pale, and fell to the side when describing what the heart and mind felt and experienced. It was too potent a mixture to space out in glyphs, what he felt.
Painting it is, then.
[/div][div class=bottoms] 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵. [/div]
[/div][/div]
[/div]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]
𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn, 1st floor
OOC: skipped a lot of stuff because it's going a bit fast for me. sorry.
TAGS:
BELIAL.
(Always Smarter),
Beleth
(Cockney Accents Are Charming),
thefinalgirl
(New phone who dis),
Lakyr
(Sass Masters, Both)BGM — MOLLY NILSSON - I HOPE YOU DIE
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks][div class=tops] ⛧ ⛧ ⛧[/div][div class=speakstoo]"So, am I disturbing anything?", another woman introduced herself, but Nik had more on his mind than offering olive branches and trying to kumbaya-it-up at the moment. He made a gruff noise of acknowledgement. In any other circumstance he'd be offering a wave and a half-smile, genial and bright like a thousand suns. Now, no. Because all that had befallen them was just too raw and real.
"...possibly. Probably. Hello, yes. Please, welcome to the shitshow," he was unusually dull in shine and biting on the edge of his words. But could anyone blame him?
It had only just happened, souring him down to scowls and an angled brow. Face pale, gaze distant, like his mind was anywhere but here. That's because it was, coasting over the horizon, thinking of all the worst things that could befall the others. Thinking of the time they were wasting.
He thought on the others, on Daisy who he hadn't seen since last night...Kayden, also missing. His favorite state, a pet-name of genuine affection for the one he thought of as his sister. And...
Nik didn't want to let the thoughts of what could be happening to them—to him—claw underneath his skin. So he would make himself useful, it was all he could do to stop from playing the worst-case scenarios over and over again in his mind. A horrific set of movies set to the drumbeat of his heart, he wish he could change the channel, but it was harder than pulling blood from a stone.
“We’ll need all the help we can get. If you can lend your magic, go right ahead and get your things back. But if there’s any sort of betrayal you’re planning once you get your stuff, I will personally see to it that justice is dealt. You understand where I’m coming from, correct? These people are important to us.” The deal was stuck, his light in the dark shaking Allea's hand, sealing their promise.
“If you’re brother’s been taken by the same raiders, we should all work together. Three witches are better than none, or so I’ve heard. If you help us get our people back, we’ll help you get him back.” There were so many witches, another thing he didn't quite understand. The Witch in Queens hadn't given him that much of an education on the subject.
Living his prior life safely in a little bubble, where the impossible fantasies of the world were very far away, he had remained ignorant by design. As anachronistic as it was, he had preferred it that way.
Mysticism through art, only. The mysteries of life and what made fire from nothing, what spurred holy light or cured the pains of men and women alike...it was too complicated. Beyond him. And so with his older troupe of friends, in the time before, hadn't let it in. Cloistered, sequestered, safe.
“I need to help heal some of our people. Afterward, we’ll talk. All of us, alright? We’re going to work together, gosh dangit, or so help me. We’re getting our people back, your things, and your brother, and we’re going to do it together. The more power we have, the more likely we are to defeat whatever magic and whatever bullcrap is behind these raiders. They need to be stopped… who knows how many other people they’ve taken or taken from. It’s disgusting…” Nik didn't want to think on this, and instead rubbed his eyes with his free hand, the other lax at his side, cigarette twirling smoke into the air in a spire.
“Well you remember I’m a nurse, right? If you get tired of doing your best you can let the trained professional take over.”
"You can't take it all on by yourself. 'We're going to work together', remember?" he reminded Penny, chiding with a wag of his finger, his smile mild but still apparent, drawn on his face with a faint brushstroke. He leaned back against the chair and let out a sigh, hands behind his head, cigarette perched between his teeth.
His light in the dark worked her blessed skills, pressing against his wound to knit the muscle fibers back together, to heal him in a way he could not heal anyone else. A panacea for all, and he was just a pain killer. He smiled, and held her hand against his chest, she was warm. Always warm. But she faltered in a step, weakened by all this. As anyone would be, he thought.
She responded before he could say anything. She had to stop carrying them all on her back. She wouldn't last if she kept doing that...and he needed her.
“Were you shot? Here, let me see it. I’m a… nurse—er, well, I was I guess.” Again, trying to take it all on her shoulders.
"No, no. I got it, Pennysworth. Rest a bit. Let me play 'nurse' for a while, huh?" he dug in, he wasn't going to give Penny any say in the matter. She needed to rest. Though she had bandaged her own wound, she was still in pain. He took a moment to grace his fingers over her neck, turning her to get a better look, playing his palm over the skin that was bruising in purple watercolor splotches.
She'd feel better, but it wouldn't heal it. Nik was a drug, not a cure-all, not quite a medicine. Morphine. Not like her, not like Rhys. He could only numb. He couldn't make it better. It could just make it stop hurting.
⛧ ⛧ ⛧
"Say, mate, y’don’t suppose I can bartah yew for one’a them scappies, canni?” There was the accent again. Nik's expression shifted into the dawn of a half-smile beyond the darkness of his mood and prior expression.
"I can do better than that, sit, let me take a look at your wound," he said, flicking more ash on the ground because it didn't really matter if they cleaned up or not. The hotel was a disaster area now. He scooched the chair a bit with his foot, furthering the expanse between him and the chair, and learning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"I don't need anything from you. The one thing I want isn't here right now," this sentence was hollow like a glass cylinder, fragile words that painted him transparent with what he said, and yet his affect was blank. To say much more would hurt enough to stain him in all the colors of regret and sorrow. He couldn't afford it right now.
“Not much, I’d owe ye late'ah, though.”
"It's really fine, please. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, roight?" If the brit had managed to make his way towards him, Nik would start with cleaning out the wound, making sure the bullet went all the way through, and then patch him up. Since the affliction ran strong in his veins, and he had gotten a good deal less ignorant about his own unholy set of powers, there'd be no pain at all for the other man as he worked.
If the bullet hadn't gone clean through, there'd be a bit of digging. He'd need to sterilize a scalpel, and go in deep.
Regardless, by the end of their interaction, should he want Nik's help, he'd be patched up right as rain. If not, the blond would sit and stew, the cigarette between his lips the only thing keeping him focused if that were the case. He had to be useful, or he'd be destructive. And so he did the good thing, despite...wanting to give in to abject carnage.
Chase after, kill...kill because killing was a comfort in knowing he had some control over something. Here, he had no control, and because of this, anxiety etched up his veins. Flurried his heart, and all he could do was..be useful.
⛧ ⛧ ⛧
"Well, if I could ask for one thing I would love a cigarette right about now," James caught his attention, which wasn't hard. He'd always gravitate towards his young friend, for the deft camaraderie they shared.
"Always," Nik, of course, offered what he had. Striking out his arm in a long lean, to pass a cigarette between his fingers, to his young friend. He was worse for wear, obviously. Should James need it, Nik would play nurse. He wouldn't force the other man to be taken care of, but it was always on the table. His brother in arms...this was another warm glimmer he'd keep close to the chest.
He could only imagine what he was feeling and thinking right now. Alaska and James had had a brief moment together last night...Nik remembered being so proud of them. Happy for them. And now he was faced with her absence. It must have all been so confusing, and so...gut wrenching.
"I might need some stitching up, would appreciate your help," Ryan piped up at some point, the blond doling out whatever last reserves of his med kit he had. It was a small kit, the most he had right now was a handful of disinfectant, a needle he kept having to sterilize, and an abundance of fishing wire. Plenty of that. But gauze was being used up like it were oxygen.
"Got it, c'mere," it was, quiet literally an assembly line. At least it kept his hands busy. Idle hands are the devil's playground, and all that.
Nik's medkit was more or less gone at this point. All he could do was stitch wounds. The blond finished patching up those that needed it, and hung his head. Fingers through his hair, his cigarette almost to ash but still hanging on. Frustrated, listless, his heart ached in his chest. Like a bird's bleating wing, mixing his insides into the yolk of human distress.
Everyone was as patched up as they could be, and now he had nothing to do but stick more cigarettes into his mouth. Time passed, and he grew more twisted in on himself. However, at some point, he managed to rear the bag Rhys had so graciously gifted him into his lap. Without speaking much to anyone, he began...to create.
Impossible things, rendered in such slick silkiness, but beautifully disgusting all the same. His hands moved, he said nothing. Water taken, precious water, from his water bottle. It didn't matter. Creations of someone who had such darkness, but so many glimmers of beauty and light beyond that twilight affliction. Harrowed scrawling, because on these many little canvases, at least he could get some of it out. Make manifest his thoughts so they didn't wander into reality.
A better gift, no one else could've really given him. The art supplies were a life saver. Without them, without something to occupy these idle hands, he'd crack in half. Too many traumatic experiences, too soon, in rapid succession. They bled the soul clean out of him. Just a normal man, truly, deep down. Not a superhero.
Not a hero in any sense of the word.
Just a man, with charcoal dusting his hands black like the pitch of his affliction, and paint up his arms all the same. He sieved it out in waves, and occupied his time. If anyone spoke to him after he patched them up, he may have offered a nod or a handful of syllables. He couldn't manage more, because what he wanted to manage was brutality. And anymore bickering or posturing and he'd snap with words deep enough to draw blood.
When he couldn't stop his worse nature, he was vicious. It was buried beneath, as he swept his hands across the canvases, blackened dust into the air, smears up his arms in various colors. Like dancing with the fingers. Using those same fingers to broach between colors, because each tool served a purpose, even your hands.
Lost in his own little world to all.
Except perhaps for Penny, because she warmed him just by being at his side. If she spoke, he'd certainly try to make his mouth create words that were anything else but what he thought on. Which was a cacophony of fear and loss. Nik was doing a good job at displacing it, now that he could, that is.
Words didn't—couldn't—do enough. Words were so pale, and fell to the side when describing what the heart and mind felt and experienced. It was too potent a mixture to space out in glyphs, what he felt.
Painting it is, then.
[/div][div class=bottoms] 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵. [/div]
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Hell0NHighWater
Queen of Hell
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Rhys & Allea
The Necromancer & The Divine
The Necromancer & The Divine
Location: Vineland, New Jersey & Wild One HQ
BGM: 10 Seconds from panic + Black Magic
Interactions: Charmer
BasiliskVeranda
| Lead Woman
BELIAL.
|White Witch
Lekiel
| Blood Witch
Dear Mrs. Psycho
|Snowfall
Chise_Robin_
|Kay
Anise
|Teenage Flower
Steel_427
| & everyone else in that same cell this is a lot of fricken tags jesus
BasiliskVeranda
| Lead Woman
BELIAL.
|White Witch
Lekiel
| Blood Witch
Dear Mrs. Psycho
|Snowfall
Chise_Robin_
|Kay
Anise
|Teenage Flower
Steel_427
| & everyone else in that same cell this is a lot of fricken tags jesus [div class=ICcontent]
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thefinalgirl
all air and no brains.
Simjang Kim
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Chise_Robin_
procrastination queen
Last edited:
Beleth
Senior Member
Edana
Location: Raider’s HQ/Jail Cell
Mentions: Rhys, Alaska
Interactions:
Chise_Robin_
BM: Had it all - Breaking Benjamin
"Snowfall! Are you okay? Is...is anyone hurt I can...fuck...if I can get out of this--"
"There's no use trying. They've got you locked up tight, in case you didn't uh...notice."
Edana’s eyes narrowed at the sarcasm in the second’s voice. It was evident that the newfound member, their leader, had been already been worrying over the cellmates the goth had discovered just hours ago.
Of course there would be a set of sour pusses, elderly beings nonetheless, who had accepted their inevitable. Why couldn’t they be the ones to be fed? Had it been up to her serving a dark entity, these two rotting bags would have been the first to go. Nothing like spoiling a ritual.
"Does anyone know where we are?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, young man."
Her irritation grew into a numbed sense of anger. Perhaps it could be none other than the fact that she was stuck listening to these sad bastards suck away any sort of youth and hope the rest of them had. Just because they had their chance to live their life and managed to fuck it up by living their last moments within a cage rather than skipping out on their opportunity to being unplugged at their senior home doesn't mean the rest of them had to go down as well. Still. She held her tongue.
“It should go without saying that perhaps some of us have long unmet acquaintances that need to be reunited. Whether or not you have expectations to be meeting this receiver of the so called ‘feeding time’ should be entirely your own private matters. The rest of us would like to continue the youth we have not wasted on drugs, crying over the economy and now sitting in a rancid cage with the only amount of oxygen within this room occupied by those who no longer need it.”
It wasn’t fair, somewhat. As the conversation continued she had come to realize that the elderly couple wasn’t too too bad to the leader she now discovered to be the name of Rhys. Rhys? Like the candy? Edana shook her head once and sat back, biting at her tongue at the remark allowing the characteristic numbed state to regain over.
"How long have I been out?"
"Long enough to have some good ass sleep, Princess--"
Nevermind, she got over it. The goth’s sliver of regret was quickly replaced with amusement. She could feel herself fighting the corners of her mouth to remain in a stoic fashion before matters had somehow managed to get worse.
THUD
Edana watched as the grossly oversized beefcake marched his way in, brimming to ear to ear as though he were just promised of riches in the other room. Pressures on her feet from arising so suddenly left pins with occasional needles, leaving little to absolutely no room for her limbs to have any form of existence beneath her; and yet she ran. She ran toward the female she learned the name to be Alaska as she was being grabbed, fighting with her own body’s existential crisis to extend an arm out in her direction.
"No! No! Don't you fuckin' take her! Take me! I'll go fuckin' willingly, just don't touch her."
Edana’s heart sunk at the words, the side of her neck tense with something she wouldn’t have thought would be possible: Humans sacrificing oneself for another. Normally she would accept such acts of kindness -- no -- loyalty as some sort of scheming facade but this struck the witch a bit different. A chill ran over her arms and down her back as the human steroid slowly orbited in the leader’s direction to grab him, yanking him as though some sort of feral beast to be presented in some sort of game. The bastard just could not wait.
She did not know either individual well enough to make some sort of threat on their behalf. It ate at her knowing that within these walls she was absolutely powerless . . . useless . . . unable to do anything else but snip tacky remarks about old people dying and pretend to be buddy buddy with people she had barely just met. It was as though a parasite had been lingering in the pit of her stomach from all the realization that in this day and moment every individual was on his or her own as far as survival went.
And yet, not even that was enough.
"Touch one hair on his head and I will end you" The words belonged to a close endearing friend of the leader. Just moments ago she had been the sweetest human Edana could ever remember encountering and now it was as though the survival match had been brought within the very cages. It would not be wise to provoke her any further - not that she had any intent to. The elderly couple on the other hand . . .
'' yeah yeah, shut the fuck up''
The words passed over the witch with some sort of glistening ignorance. The level of inadequacy that these . . . Wild Ones possessed was actually disappointing to watch. If only there were some sort of blood ritual that could bring her back at the expense of well, all of them, she would not hesitate to lunge at the opportunity. They did not deserve to live. Their kind is the reason why everyone else with some level of decency is trapped, scraping for their lives while these repulsive fucklords take everything that is dear.
It was back home all over again . . .
Edana shook the thought off. This wasn’t one of those japanese cartoons that her family used to obsess over. There wasn’t any time to have sudden flashbacks, moments of remembrance or praying with ‘what ifs’. They were going to get the girl’s friend and their group leader back; she intended to count on it.
“We will get him back. Promise. They may be brutes but they have demonstrated to lack a sort of intellect that will be their downfall.” Her own words was like warm cough medicine oozing down as she spoke. The thought of seeking justice for such foul misbehavior was something Edana prided in never missing a beat. She let her family get away with such treachery back home by casting a friendly face to the public but only to demonstrate such . . . unspeakable acts of betrayal when faced alone in a room with them. The details were vague mostly because they are where they belong - in the past. Anything past that would create unnecessary emotion that will hinder obtaining her object.
And in this case especially emotion was something she could not afford to utilize.
Code by @Beauty_Belle
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Beleth
Senior Member
|Rufus|
Mentions: Woofus, Ryan, Damian, Penny, Nik
BGM: Basketcase - Green Day
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Dear Mrs. Psycho
Junior Member
Location: Vineland, NJ
Mentions: A lot (Sorry about interaction, skimming through since we have moved on)
Interactions: Basically everyone in the rescue party
"We would be here for decades if I had to list the reasons why my spells would work better than your shabby parlor tricks."
Unfortunately, covens don't teach parlor tricks, she thought, knowing full well, saying it was worse in the long run, they are too busy trying to teach their people to torture their own blood. It was a bit, as people now on days called it, salty, but to her it was the truth, plus she didn't learn her parlor tricks until she realized she needed the money more than she thought. Instead of correcting the witch on her facts, she kept quiet and listened, only critiquing her in her thoughts, which she was glad no one would here.
Eventually though, the remaining of this survivor group, grew tired of the witchy squabble and said their protests, before moving on to take care of their injured. Amara, quietly made the efforts of doing the same, by sliding her backpack off her shoulder, opened it to rummage through the contents to remember how to make something for the pain. She knew just by the looks of things, there was some high pain tolerance required in order to go though with helping them. Making it, she thought it was best to keep in on the side, just in case, noting to the others that it was pretty fast acting. Elijah needed it plenty of times, which was why she learned at least that with remedies. Though now that she was thinking about it, it saddened her. She missed her brother dearly.
“If you’re brother’s been taken by the same raiders, we should all work together. Three witches are better than none, or so I’ve heard. If you help us get our people back, we’ll help you get him back.” As if the blonde had read her mind, speaking about Elijah, while also using it to persuade her to join their little band of misfits or whatever. Which she stood and considered. She knew couldn't do it on her own. And, as much as she hated to admit it, it was better to work with Allea and their witch. There was more power.
"Fine," she stated, flatly. "But don't expect me to sing 'Kumbaya," she added, strutting around to help in any way she could with their injured. Somewhere in the midst of all the action falling about the many injured and then a prophet having a vision, she announced her name, and that was pretty much all she spoke. She really didn't say much afterwards, not really having much to say.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Later that night, when everyone was calmer, they prepped for the location spell ritual. Simple, however, the more specific you want the location, more power was required. Which was great when three pretty powerful witches came together to do said spell.
Right before the ritual, Amara sliced her palm open and let the blood drip into a small vial. To add, a small bit of blood magic, they used Amara's, since she has blood tied with a prisoner within the walls of the Raider Headquarters, to strengthen the spell, given one of the people they were trying to locate. The blood would aid with the power of three witches, as well as a talisman that was borrowed, given it's ties to another prisoner, and the magic held inside it already.
After bandaging the palm of her hand by herself, she handed her blood over to Allea, pausing a tad to show her reluctance. Given the fact that they still had a bit of bad blood, and this witch also has dabbled in other magic, including blood magic, their was a gigantic list Amara could come up, of just spells Allea could use to royally fuck her up. Not to mention the tons, she couldn't think of in that second that Allea probably knew that would put her through more hell then there was of it already on Earth. Yet, she did so anyway, and continued in her aid in the ritual, sitting down, her head remaining clear, other the focus on her brother to find the location and holding hands with two complete strangers, one of which would probably rather do anything else to Amara's blood then drip into onto a map if this wasn't so important for everyone involved.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
It's been five days since that night. Travel was a mess. They have faced so much, including car trouble, extreme cold and blizzards, that it wasted so much time, putting them behind schedule on where the young witch wanted to be. Though she could understand the weather, even with the witchy help, there was only so much a spell or ritual can do against weather amongst a mass amount of people. But the car? The stupid car that they spent too much time on deciding what to do with it, instead of just abandoning it and moving on. It would've saved them a day or two. Needless to say, Amara was silently pissed about the car situation and had half the mind to bring up the argument on the time they were wasting arguing, but she didn't. She just stayed to the back and waited for a decision to be made.
In fact, that was pretty much the whole trip for Amara. She kept to the back and remained quiet, unless they asked for her assistance with anything witch related. She figured that the group didn't fancy her much from the open argument with Allea, so she remained. Out of sight, out of mind as they say. Instead, she let her mind focus on Elijah. Even if the odds weren't in his favor, as he had already been there a week and a half. It would be a miracle if he made it. She was just hoping there was one.
"From the way that talisman is glowin' I'd say we're in the right place....an' even then, I'd say those fires up 'head is a sure enough sign." She heard Allea ahead of her shout. This brought some happiness and a huge weight off her shoulders, though her expression didn't change much. However, on the inside, she was excited and relieved that she would be reunited with her brother again So much so, that she was ready to just burst, guns blazing, so to speak, if it weren't for Allea's warning....
"Laslo's men are sloppy, but I wouldn't put it past him to 'ave somethin' up his sleeve. If we 'ave a distraction, we should be able to slip in undetected, get your people, and get out."
Stopping a minute for once in these past few days, she worked out a thought process, as Allea already had hers in motion. She started to think of some factors, needing to split up the group into a few. One to get the prisoners, one to work as an distraction, one to take care of his men, and one to an obstacle, in case the distraction falls flat. She knew she wanted to be a part of the prisoner party, but she had a feeling that there was many in this group that wanted, or felt like they would need to be a part of that group. She had to admit, she was one of them. However, it hit her. They were partially going in blind...
"Wait," she called out to Reverie and Allea, pretty much the first thing she has said this whole trip. "Before you go, we at least need Reverie's talisman for the group going after the prisoners. This way at least they aren't mice in a giant maze trying to avoid traps while looking for their cheese," she pointed out. That was the party that needed something to keep them from finding the wrong doorway into a mass of Laslo's people, when they wanted a mass of Laslo's prisoner's. "I won't seeing my help needed elsewhere, I am just saying for those that are sent to help the or friends and loved ones," she added.
Mirgris
Elder Member
[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]
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As I plan this mass murder, I wonder who I have become. It was not all that long ago, I had never killed and thought I never would. Now, I am only remorseful that some of those I am killing are human and felt they had no other choice. I wrap the plastic wrap around my armored limbs and torso with care, leaving a small whole to my helm. It takes a few wraps with duct tape before I feel I am relatively waterproof. I sigh, as I walk into freezing cold river. I have two miles to swim underwater. As I sink and walk deeper into the water, one hand goes to my head, shadow wraps around my fingers becoming solid and shaping to my will. It makes a tube through the hole and seals it to be water tight. With magical snorkel in hand I sink so I am fully submerged.
The shadow doesn't need to follow the law of physics making keeping one end above water, easy as I swim, I do choke on water a few times, but a mere act of will has it grow longer as I swallow it. As I get closer approach there end of the shore, so I can sort of walk or hop underwater as I approach, which is needed because my other hand pulls more semi solid shadow around me, wearing it like an overly large cloak. Underwater, at night, in black armor, with shadow magically wrapped around me. I am close to invisible as I can be. When I am only a few hundred feet away I exit from the water slowly. I dismiss the shadow snorkel but keep my cloak. I exit with incredible care and slowness, dripping water makes noise after all, I need to let it run down. I cut the plastic off, as I exit, carefully placing it in the water as more of my body is in the air again.
After what feels like hours, but was in reality only a half hour swim, and exit, I have cut the plastic free and am wrapped in shadow close to my target.
I sheathe the knife and give a small sigh, now comes the distasteful part. I creep my way forward, each step chosen with care and my shadow manipulation constantly fluctuating to keep me best hidden. The lot doesn't have a wall or towers but it has patrols, I do not know if they are formal, or just groups walking around outside the center cluster. Still I see a group approaching me. It place my hand to the ground, and connect my own shadow to one of some bushes not far from the group, I make it solid at the end. Eyes closed, this fine manipulation takes concentration and focus. I make the solid end wack a few of the bushes branches, and the armed group goes to investigate an area away from me. I debate killing them, and changing into one of their outfits, but I can't take the risk they would know by face, or something else I was not a member of their group. Besides for my plan it is best, if the patrols were not killed.
I pass the first two RVs I reach. I want them to suspect an insider of the killings, and besides this is also an information gathering mission. I will come back night after night. Infighting will kill some, and fears and tension will make others flee. With luck I can learn the layouts tonight and kill some leadership tomorrow. I don't particularly like killing humans my main targets are the vampires, and leadership, but still I will kill the mooks, the fear is a useful tool in breaking apart the band, with luck maybe a few of them will find new occupations after my terror tactics, it is not likely, but it is possible.
I enter the third RV as quietly as possible, slowly entering the unlocked vehicle, I saw no motion or heard no noise so it should be filled with only the sleeping. As I walk around inside, I find I was correct. Four young men sleep inside. One by one I move between them. Shadow covers their mouth with one hand, as the other plunges through a softer part of the forehead killing them instantly and the shadow covers their dying gasps. I kill them all. I do not linger and examine my handy work, I look quickly for any notes, maps or papers that may give me information, seeing nothing I leave.
In a few minutes, I have killed three more, emptying another RV of wild ones. I feel little about the deaths. I understand I should, and once I would have. Instead I make my way around the camp. Things are going very well so far, I am unseen but a mental map will be critical for the following nights, I am searching for anything that would imply leadership. The vampires have to die, as do those who lead this group, it is critical for them to fall. Still I do not see any clear indication of where they are as I creep around the edges of the camp.
I spot an RV with a notable worn foot path, it is in the center though. I'm willing to bet it has someone important in it, if people are coming to and from it so often, orders being given or received most likely. It may be a food store, or something else, but destroying those would still be valuable. I start to make my way towards it slowly, creeping around the edge, weaving the shadows around my carefully to avoid detection.
Then someone shouts not to far from me. A discovered body maybe, or a totally unrelated event. More shouts and screams follow it up. People are exiting the Rvs rapidly, there is no where for me to hide as everyone is waking up and rushing out. I'm in the center of the enemy camp, surrounded by enemies and holding a bloody blade, then the alarm goes off.
"What the fuck God?"
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[div class=statusText] Location: East Oak Veterinary Hospital, Vine-land, New Jersey
BGM: Grave Digger
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[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]David Deals Death[/div][div class=text]BGM: Grave Digger
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As I plan this mass murder, I wonder who I have become. It was not all that long ago, I had never killed and thought I never would. Now, I am only remorseful that some of those I am killing are human and felt they had no other choice. I wrap the plastic wrap around my armored limbs and torso with care, leaving a small whole to my helm. It takes a few wraps with duct tape before I feel I am relatively waterproof. I sigh, as I walk into freezing cold river. I have two miles to swim underwater. As I sink and walk deeper into the water, one hand goes to my head, shadow wraps around my fingers becoming solid and shaping to my will. It makes a tube through the hole and seals it to be water tight. With magical snorkel in hand I sink so I am fully submerged.
The shadow doesn't need to follow the law of physics making keeping one end above water, easy as I swim, I do choke on water a few times, but a mere act of will has it grow longer as I swallow it. As I get closer approach there end of the shore, so I can sort of walk or hop underwater as I approach, which is needed because my other hand pulls more semi solid shadow around me, wearing it like an overly large cloak. Underwater, at night, in black armor, with shadow magically wrapped around me. I am close to invisible as I can be. When I am only a few hundred feet away I exit from the water slowly. I dismiss the shadow snorkel but keep my cloak. I exit with incredible care and slowness, dripping water makes noise after all, I need to let it run down. I cut the plastic off, as I exit, carefully placing it in the water as more of my body is in the air again.
After what feels like hours, but was in reality only a half hour swim, and exit, I have cut the plastic free and am wrapped in shadow close to my target.
I sheathe the knife and give a small sigh, now comes the distasteful part. I creep my way forward, each step chosen with care and my shadow manipulation constantly fluctuating to keep me best hidden. The lot doesn't have a wall or towers but it has patrols, I do not know if they are formal, or just groups walking around outside the center cluster. Still I see a group approaching me. It place my hand to the ground, and connect my own shadow to one of some bushes not far from the group, I make it solid at the end. Eyes closed, this fine manipulation takes concentration and focus. I make the solid end wack a few of the bushes branches, and the armed group goes to investigate an area away from me. I debate killing them, and changing into one of their outfits, but I can't take the risk they would know by face, or something else I was not a member of their group. Besides for my plan it is best, if the patrols were not killed.
I pass the first two RVs I reach. I want them to suspect an insider of the killings, and besides this is also an information gathering mission. I will come back night after night. Infighting will kill some, and fears and tension will make others flee. With luck I can learn the layouts tonight and kill some leadership tomorrow. I don't particularly like killing humans my main targets are the vampires, and leadership, but still I will kill the mooks, the fear is a useful tool in breaking apart the band, with luck maybe a few of them will find new occupations after my terror tactics, it is not likely, but it is possible.
I enter the third RV as quietly as possible, slowly entering the unlocked vehicle, I saw no motion or heard no noise so it should be filled with only the sleeping. As I walk around inside, I find I was correct. Four young men sleep inside. One by one I move between them. Shadow covers their mouth with one hand, as the other plunges through a softer part of the forehead killing them instantly and the shadow covers their dying gasps. I kill them all. I do not linger and examine my handy work, I look quickly for any notes, maps or papers that may give me information, seeing nothing I leave.
In a few minutes, I have killed three more, emptying another RV of wild ones. I feel little about the deaths. I understand I should, and once I would have. Instead I make my way around the camp. Things are going very well so far, I am unseen but a mental map will be critical for the following nights, I am searching for anything that would imply leadership. The vampires have to die, as do those who lead this group, it is critical for them to fall. Still I do not see any clear indication of where they are as I creep around the edges of the camp.
I spot an RV with a notable worn foot path, it is in the center though. I'm willing to bet it has someone important in it, if people are coming to and from it so often, orders being given or received most likely. It may be a food store, or something else, but destroying those would still be valuable. I start to make my way towards it slowly, creeping around the edge, weaving the shadows around my carefully to avoid detection.
Then someone shouts not to far from me. A discovered body maybe, or a totally unrelated event. More shouts and screams follow it up. People are exiting the Rvs rapidly, there is no where for me to hide as everyone is waking up and rushing out. I'm in the center of the enemy camp, surrounded by enemies and holding a bloody blade, then the alarm goes off.
"What the fuck God?"
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Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
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[div class=backgroundbloke]
[div class=infrontofbackaffectsright]
[div class=sidebar]
[div class=sidedetails]
LOCATION — Land of the Wild Ones
INTERACTIONS —
BasiliskVeranda
,
Hell0NHighWater
,
Dear Mrs. Psycho
MENTIONS—
Anise
,
DESC. — Hair unfettered, tan wrap coat, red scarf, tights, black heeled ankle boots.[/div][div class=sidedetails2][/div][div class=bye]
[/div][/div][div class=witchtalk]
There was a time when Reverie would've said, it would sooner snow in summer, before she was found heading directly into a raider's den. But as it were, they had traveled through full on blizzards where there should've been sweltering sun, resolutely making their way towards what could only mean certain death. Plus they had a whole bunch of total strangers to work with. Strangers that had all too conveniently showed up when they had needed the help. Strangers which the white witch had been immensely reluctant to cooperate with, and only did so at the sight of Nik's troubled mask. The sole anchor that held her there, bound by principle, unable to oppose kismet's bidding. But the niggling voice of cold reason was always there. She had not survived thus far had she not learned to let go, though it seemed to some that she gave up all too easily. Mayhap she could do so because she never had. A solivagant in every regard, shutting out all from the longing heart within, passing through. Never taking nor leaving anything of herself to be cherished by. Faces and names had become nothing more than words to describe emotions.
Desmond, Rueful. Roy, Tiff, Francis, Regret. Jung, Tragedy. Emma, Warmth. Nik..... was Nik. A person. Perhaps he hid it well, but something had happened after what they'd been through together. And she could sense the inner vibrations of his heart through his cobalt blue orbs as surely as he read hers.
She owed him, even if he said otherwise.
So she had sat with Amara and Allea, noticing that the paler of the two looked equally, if not more uncomfortable than herself at having to share a little of her own powers in that intimate ritual. Intimate in the fact that by placing oneself as a conduit upon the etched magic circle, you opened a little door to your inner workings. A small door, but a door nonetheless. Though if anything was lost, it was really only comfort, and so staring at the space in between, she wisely kept her own council and kept pace with the ritual. She felt the presence stir within her as they clasped their hands together and chanted, voices rising in unison. It shifted peculiarly, and Reverie imagined it tilting its faceless facade quizzically at the witches of stygian and sanguis arts. Pondering.
When the ritual ended, she accepted the returned talisman wordlessly, nodding as the Black Witch wearily explained to her what she'd already known. Though something she said later caused her to look up fleetingly, an odd look on her face.
"Vineland, New Jersey. If I had to bet, cher, I'd say that's where your brother is being kept. That talisman should help us narrow down on the specifics."
Brother? She never had one, nor a sibling for that matter. What did it feel like?
"I'll let you know if I sense anything." She had replied simply, idly thumbing the bit of metalwork hanging around her neck. One that even now glowed under the gloom of shrouded skies, a pale luminosity of silver. The metal had warmed against her skin, and she reached up to hold the intricate twists of craftwork, brows furrowed as she concentrated.
"From the way that talisman is glowin' I'd say we're in the right place....an' even then, I'd say those fires up 'head is a sure enough sign."
"We are." Reverie confirmed Allea's guess, tawny hazel eyes transfixed on a particular building immediately across a river.
"Laslo's men are sloppy, but I wouldn't put it past him to 'ave somethin' up his sleeve. If we 'ave a distraction, we should be able to slip in undetected, get your people, and get out." Allea was speaking again, voicing out a rough plan, but she suddenly turned to address the White Witch directly.
"If you don't mind, cher, I'd appreciate the help with my little problem. Last I heard, there's a Vampire who set up camp in Laslo's crew. She's the one who 'as somethin' that don't belong to her. That is, if ya don't mind helpin' me. It'd be much appreciated." Allea smiled a little ruefully, "You could think of it this way, if I ain't hold'n up my end of the deal, you 'ave permission to kill me."
An eyebrow arched at the woman's ending statement. With the way their prospects looked to be unfolding, she doubted she would even have the time to kill the other witch if she didn't keep her end of the rope, whatever the deal was. As far as Reverie was concerned, she was only here because of Nik. She was not part of any deal. Allea must have thought that she was here out of some veritable communal spirit which bound her to those captured. She thought to retort in incredulity, but her eyes flicked over to where the others of their original group stood. Each one of their faces marred with concern that almost seemed agonizing, for those held captive. If someone were to take time away from attempting the rescue to aid the Black Witch, it might as well be her.
"I mind..." Reverie answered deadpan, stopping to look at the necromancer full in the face.
"But I'll help."
Reverie had already made to move, attempting to get a better view of the raider establishment; no doubt the rest would begin discussing the plan of attack something which she did not really wish to be part of. But the sable-haired blood witch, Amara, uttered her thoughts all of a sudden. She had not spoken much, if at all, during their journey. So the sound of her unfamiliar voice immediately caught her attention.
"Wait," Reverie stopped, turning to blow into her cupped hands for warmth as she waited for Amara to continue. "Before you go, we at least need Reverie's talisman for the group going after the prisoners. This way at least they aren't mice in a giant maze trying to avoid traps while looking for their cheese,"
Did she really just ask her to willingly part with her own trinket?
"I won't seeing my help needed elsewhere, I am just saying for those that are sent to help the or friends and loved ones," Reverie's brows furrowed, she didn't quite get what the witch was saying especially with the first part of her sentence. But she could make a guess with the second.
"They're in that building by the river over there." She pointed out the building in question. "From what I could... see... it's not really all that complicated. The captured are in cages or jail cells. Kayden... doesn't seem to be conscious, or at least not quite aware of his surroundings. So there's not much I can sense."
"Also... The talisman certainly doesn't tell me much more than that, nor does it tell me where the traps are if there are any." The witch added matter-of-factly. She was silent for a moment before she reached behind her neck to undo the chain. Walking over to Nik, she dangled the glowing charm for him to take.
"Though I suppose, you could do with a little bit more luck." She gave the blond a small smile, but rueful withal.
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=backgroundbloke]
[div class=infrontofbackaffectsright]
[div class=sidebar]
[div class=sidedetails]
Reverie Lowiezka
LOCATION — Land of the Wild Ones
INTERACTIONS —
BasiliskVeranda
,
Hell0NHighWater
,
Dear Mrs. Psycho
MENTIONS—
Anise
, DESC. — Hair unfettered, tan wrap coat, red scarf, tights, black heeled ankle boots.[/div][div class=sidedetails2][/div][div class=bye]
[/div][/div][div class=witchtalk]
❖ ❖
There was a time when Reverie would've said, it would sooner snow in summer, before she was found heading directly into a raider's den. But as it were, they had traveled through full on blizzards where there should've been sweltering sun, resolutely making their way towards what could only mean certain death. Plus they had a whole bunch of total strangers to work with. Strangers that had all too conveniently showed up when they had needed the help. Strangers which the white witch had been immensely reluctant to cooperate with, and only did so at the sight of Nik's troubled mask. The sole anchor that held her there, bound by principle, unable to oppose kismet's bidding. But the niggling voice of cold reason was always there. She had not survived thus far had she not learned to let go, though it seemed to some that she gave up all too easily. Mayhap she could do so because she never had. A solivagant in every regard, shutting out all from the longing heart within, passing through. Never taking nor leaving anything of herself to be cherished by. Faces and names had become nothing more than words to describe emotions.
Desmond, Rueful. Roy, Tiff, Francis, Regret. Jung, Tragedy. Emma, Warmth. Nik..... was Nik. A person. Perhaps he hid it well, but something had happened after what they'd been through together. And she could sense the inner vibrations of his heart through his cobalt blue orbs as surely as he read hers.
She owed him, even if he said otherwise.
So she had sat with Amara and Allea, noticing that the paler of the two looked equally, if not more uncomfortable than herself at having to share a little of her own powers in that intimate ritual. Intimate in the fact that by placing oneself as a conduit upon the etched magic circle, you opened a little door to your inner workings. A small door, but a door nonetheless. Though if anything was lost, it was really only comfort, and so staring at the space in between, she wisely kept her own council and kept pace with the ritual. She felt the presence stir within her as they clasped their hands together and chanted, voices rising in unison. It shifted peculiarly, and Reverie imagined it tilting its faceless facade quizzically at the witches of stygian and sanguis arts. Pondering.
When the ritual ended, she accepted the returned talisman wordlessly, nodding as the Black Witch wearily explained to her what she'd already known. Though something she said later caused her to look up fleetingly, an odd look on her face.
"Vineland, New Jersey. If I had to bet, cher, I'd say that's where your brother is being kept. That talisman should help us narrow down on the specifics."
Brother? She never had one, nor a sibling for that matter. What did it feel like?
"I'll let you know if I sense anything." She had replied simply, idly thumbing the bit of metalwork hanging around her neck. One that even now glowed under the gloom of shrouded skies, a pale luminosity of silver. The metal had warmed against her skin, and she reached up to hold the intricate twists of craftwork, brows furrowed as she concentrated.
"From the way that talisman is glowin' I'd say we're in the right place....an' even then, I'd say those fires up 'head is a sure enough sign."
"We are." Reverie confirmed Allea's guess, tawny hazel eyes transfixed on a particular building immediately across a river.
"Laslo's men are sloppy, but I wouldn't put it past him to 'ave somethin' up his sleeve. If we 'ave a distraction, we should be able to slip in undetected, get your people, and get out." Allea was speaking again, voicing out a rough plan, but she suddenly turned to address the White Witch directly.
"If you don't mind, cher, I'd appreciate the help with my little problem. Last I heard, there's a Vampire who set up camp in Laslo's crew. She's the one who 'as somethin' that don't belong to her. That is, if ya don't mind helpin' me. It'd be much appreciated." Allea smiled a little ruefully, "You could think of it this way, if I ain't hold'n up my end of the deal, you 'ave permission to kill me."
An eyebrow arched at the woman's ending statement. With the way their prospects looked to be unfolding, she doubted she would even have the time to kill the other witch if she didn't keep her end of the rope, whatever the deal was. As far as Reverie was concerned, she was only here because of Nik. She was not part of any deal. Allea must have thought that she was here out of some veritable communal spirit which bound her to those captured. She thought to retort in incredulity, but her eyes flicked over to where the others of their original group stood. Each one of their faces marred with concern that almost seemed agonizing, for those held captive. If someone were to take time away from attempting the rescue to aid the Black Witch, it might as well be her.
"I mind..." Reverie answered deadpan, stopping to look at the necromancer full in the face.
"But I'll help."
Reverie had already made to move, attempting to get a better view of the raider establishment; no doubt the rest would begin discussing the plan of attack something which she did not really wish to be part of. But the sable-haired blood witch, Amara, uttered her thoughts all of a sudden. She had not spoken much, if at all, during their journey. So the sound of her unfamiliar voice immediately caught her attention.
"Wait," Reverie stopped, turning to blow into her cupped hands for warmth as she waited for Amara to continue. "Before you go, we at least need Reverie's talisman for the group going after the prisoners. This way at least they aren't mice in a giant maze trying to avoid traps while looking for their cheese,"
Did she really just ask her to willingly part with her own trinket?
"I won't seeing my help needed elsewhere, I am just saying for those that are sent to help the or friends and loved ones," Reverie's brows furrowed, she didn't quite get what the witch was saying especially with the first part of her sentence. But she could make a guess with the second.
"They're in that building by the river over there." She pointed out the building in question. "From what I could... see... it's not really all that complicated. The captured are in cages or jail cells. Kayden... doesn't seem to be conscious, or at least not quite aware of his surroundings. So there's not much I can sense."
"Also... The talisman certainly doesn't tell me much more than that, nor does it tell me where the traps are if there are any." The witch added matter-of-factly. She was silent for a moment before she reached behind her neck to undo the chain. Walking over to Nik, she dangled the glowing charm for him to take.
"Though I suppose, you could do with a little bit more luck." She gave the blond a small smile, but rueful withal.
[/div][/div][/div]
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BasiliskVeranda
80s Trash
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[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]
𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn > Land of the Wild Ones
OOC: this might be a tad bit scattered and i might have missed people, sorry. 4 hours of sleep here.
TAGS:
BELIAL.
(Always Smarter),
Lekiel
(Kindness Isn't Charity, But You're Still A Savior),
Hell0NHighWater
(Motives Unknown),
Dear Mrs. Psycho
(Helpful Witch)
BGM — PORTISHEAD - THE RIP
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks][div class=tops] ⛧ ⛧ ⛧[/div][div class=speakstoo]He was a bloodless pale thing, of slender birch tree limbs, hay-colored hair and blackened ink tattoos like rivers in his veins. Of deep blue eyes as clouded as the froth of the sea lapping on gray shores. Stone-gray, weathered and encrusted from salt biting deep into the bones of the earth.
He watched the witches work, offering to cobble together food when they needed it, despite scarce, thin resources. Water, company, soft swipes of smiles that were neither catty nor impatient. Just...there. Like a transparency laid over a film reel, a colored in smile made from a water-soluble gray marker. It didn't stick.
All he had were shallow words because his desire for action was outpacing the amount of time it was taking to figure out where the others had been spirited away to. The waters of his rage weathered his scowls, then broke them, until he stared off into nothingness.
Then he'd make work again, hands busy in reds and clouds of charcoal up his arms. Charcoal the witches had used to divinate the location of their stolen ones. Of their taken ones. Of their coveted ones, pried from his very fucking fingers, he felt. Fingers he hated for being unable to keep them there.
There was nothing else he could do with his hands that wasn't the battering of typhoons against flesh that had wronged him by taking what he considered his.
There had been blood vials, and magics used across a map. The talisman Reverie had, bewitched more in some way. Things beyond him. Things he accepted, but did not understand, mostly because he felt inherently that man was not meant to float with clouds between his knees. Mankind was not meant to play with shadows under the skin. Mankind was not meant to wield the dead as weapons.
Mankind was not meant to know that devils were real, nor that ghosts were possibly everywhere and nowhere, all at once.
Some may have called his thoughts on this archaic. He called them idealistic. There is bliss in ignorance. There is, and to deny that would make the denier as poor a liar as he was, about just how much all this was hurting him.
"It should glow, the closer we are to them the brighter it will get."
"...it's not like they fled on a fucking rocket ship..." he whispered to himself, hands clasped in his lap. Why did they need all this immaculate majesty of magical ministrations? He didn't know. He guessed it was absolutely the only option. You know, opposed to striking out physically and looking with your eyeballs at tracks in the snow. Unless the barrage of snow had obscured everything so fitfully, but would it really be that hard to follow a band of raiders?
Just look at the destruction they wrought, and play follow the leader.
"Vineland, New Jersey. If I had to bet, cher, I'd say that's where your brother is being kept. That talisman should help us narrow down on the specifics." They now had a destination. He thanked the witches for their work with a mute expression, eyes cast off into the distance, that was all he could give them. Except...for Reverie, who got a slightly longer look, and a slightly broader smile. She had warmed up to him, and in turn, it made him less frozen solid in his own isolated, conflicting emotions.
She thawed him. Funny that she now had that power.
Nik honestly thought if he had been allowed to leave, and not harkened back and chained like a feral animal, reticent because behaving was preferable, he'd have been able to clunk after them in his—their—Rhys' truck. He was well enough to be able to chase with a snapping maw (thanks to his light in the dark) and his dark blessing fueling his unbelievable anger. His anger engendered in him power that some could only dream of.
But no, he had to sit there, and wait. Then, he had to help form a strategy, because working with a plan was somehow better than having started early to catch their tracks in the snow, which undoubtedly they'd have left because it wasn't like there were other cars making crosshatches across the snow, driving all over the bloody state.
Survivors were rare enough, and James' skill as a hunter was powerful enough, that he doubted even tracking them would be a problem.
"Les' get this freakshow on the road, yeah?"
"Fucking finally," was all he said, gathering his blades and whatever supplies they felt necessary to bring, saying not much of anything before stashing his shit in the truck. He slammed the trunk down, the slight pitch of his brow being the only emotion his face offered readily. But it was deceiving, this blankness, because it was actually a rolling, boiling, electrified ocean beneath his thin skin.
Easy to read now, as they went off on their way. Bunking up in which vehicles they needed to, Nik confiscating Penny to sit beside him, forced her to, really. Riding shotgun as he ate at his lower lip, despite the cigarettes keeping his mouth occupied. One hand on the wheel, a careful driver however, then came to digging at his nails.
As if to sit still meant he'd cease to exist. If she spoke, he listened, eyes darting to catch the outline of her feline cheekbone, beautiful hair casting lemon-yellow in the stark snowed light. At some point, he'd place his hand on her's, other hand clenched on the wheel, eyes steeled and gaze intense.
Every so often, it'd break, into fear, longing and loss. Suddenly, that too would give way. Nik was a work of emotive art, it was hard for him to cover it all up with white gesso, the innards still bled through. Fake plastic feelings can't stay on top of the sticky oils of the human soul. They just slide off in slabs.
The start of their journey had been five fucking days ago. With each shift in their plans, each hitch, each roadblock, obstacle, he grew quieter and less emotive. Until he just provided slates of one-word answers, or a sparse handful when required. Because any more than that and he'd be burning with rage at how much fucking time they had wasted.
The truck...had to be left behind. The blond had been explosive, upset was quite the understatement, but he was good enough at acting and spinning up lies, repainting his own expression over and over again, to mark it as upset and not unfiltered homicide against anything that vexed him.
This was his truck. Rhys' truck.
Leaving it behind felt like losing a fucking limb.
Inherently, this took longer than it needed to, because it seemed like every single obstacle was put in their place, by the hand of some angry shitty God up on high. Mad at them for who knows what reason, every single movement a push back. Every single mark erased away with paint thinner.
The blizzard picked up. He knew now that his impatience about leaving earlier would have just meant he would've gotten lost in snow drifts and fucking freeze to death. This was...abominable.
Nik was supposed to just handle it. He wasn't superhuman, he was just a man, and so he handled it by being quiet about it. Even five fucking days later. Because otherwise he'd be spitting vitriol like a viper slinging venom at everything in his wake. The not knowing...was what made him bitter and acrid. The not knowing if they were all okay.
If Alaska was okay, if his sister...if she was okay. Alive, breathing, strong, as well as she could be under the circumstances. His thoughts went to the lesser angels of men and their greater demons and he did think for a moment if they had tried to take from her more than just her life. He hated that. He hated that such a thing lived within people. He hated that it even lived within him, something born from the dark fruit he hadn't even bitten. But had consumed, somehow, without knowing it.
Force fed, because he wasn't worthy to walk in that bastard God's light.
It was disgusting.
Daisy, a young thing, so strong and caring, was she....did she put on a brave face? Did she fight? Was she...
He thought to all of them, avoiding the one that burned in his veins because those thoughts were deadly toxins to a man already afflicted enough to be as impulsive as an antagonized honey badger on meth.
"From the way that talisman is glowin' I'd say we're in the right place....an' even then, I'd say those fires up 'head is a sure enough sign."
This was apparent enough. They stopped and started to concoct a scheme. When all the blond, who now had his arms crossed, staring off into the distance, wanted to do, was tear people apart. Limb from limb, and make some art installations across the frozen landscape. It would've been beautiful, and it would've felt incredible, and at least he'd be able to enact something instead of being boxed into a vehicle fuming and trying to make his smile stick on his face.
"We are." Nik's deep blue gaze trailed to rest on Reverie's face, eyes softening. His red coat was bundled up around his body, and he had since found a piece of warm plaid wool to fashion into a swathed scarf. He still had the gloves Rhys had gifted to him, as well...all in all, warm enough. Warmer still from his blood pounding in his ears.
If any of them truly knew how hard it was to keep a lock on his impulsivity spurred on by the affliction running rampant in his veins and up his spine, they'd think he was some sort of fucking saint. But they didn't know and instead he gnawed his lips and cast darted glances at the others, standing nearer Penny, as if her light would keep him on solid ground.
"Laslo's men are sloppy, but I wouldn't put it past him to 'ave somethin' up his sleeve. If we 'ave a distraction, we should be able to slip in undetected, get your people, and get out."
"They managed to get the drop on us at the hotel. If they're sloppy, someone or something there isn't. I'd call them well organized. If we aren't as well, we're not going to do this right. So...let's all keep our fuckin' heads on straight, yeah?" he said, words coming out from his mouth in hot breaths into the frosted air, through his scarf like a fog. His arms were clasped tightly around himself, for warmth, but more than that. For keeping himself tied down.
It was ironic he was making it a point to tell them to keep their heads on straight when his head was anything but secured onto his neck. But at least he had an inhuman amount of control. He'd need it for this little war, certainly.
"Before you go, we at least need Reverie's talisman for the group going after the prisoners. This way at least they aren't mice in a giant maze trying to avoid traps while looking for their cheese," the woman he knew now to be named Amara spoke. It was a good enough idea, he just didn't know how any of this magic shit worked. It could work that way...or it couldn't. He thought it was particularly kind that she was doing her best to take an active stance here.
Nik didn't share as much his concerns or viewpoints. His modus operandi was quite simply to kill every living thing that was an enemy, and do it with great prejudice, and a whole lot of rage. Best to let the blond keep that to himself, however.
"They're in that building by the river over there." Reverie gestured to the building, and Nik followed her designation. His eyes spelled out for the briefest of moments all the unfathomable anger and desire for destruction he felt, but he let it fall away. Scrunched up his face down into his scarf, darting his eyes to the faces of the others.
He was only good for war.
"From what I could... see... it's not really all that complicated. The captured are in cages or jail cells. Kayden... doesn't seem to be conscious, or at least not quite aware of his surroundings. So there's not much I can sense."
"Also... The talisman certainly doesn't tell me much more than that, nor does it tell me where the traps are if there are any."
"We're just going to have to stop, look, and listen. And not make any dumb plays here. I don't need anyone else getting hurt..." he said through his scarf, avoiding looking at anyone now, staring at the snowy ground.
But then Reverie approached him, dangling the talisman, the trinket, like a symbolic little twinkling northern star. Something for him to hold onto.
He took it into his gloved hand, holding it for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he shifted his scarf to place it around his neck, and cast his gaze to the witch who had been so strangely kind to him. It seemed unlike her, and again it felt like a gift, a grace he didn't deserve in the least bit.
"Thank you, Rev. And...Allea. Amara. For all of this....let's...let's split up," Nik said behind his scarf, a slight chill in his voice, but not from the cold, "some take point for causing bullshit to draw eyes, like Allea said, then we can go in," the part-time devil said, looking at Penny for confirmation.
"But I don't think we'll be undetected, that's a bit naive, all things considered. Best to have some big guns for that. We're lucky the one thing I'm fucking good at is killing shit...and maybe bitching about crap," he tossed out a chuckle, finally some color back in his face. They'd find them, they'd fight, they'd win the day.
And if they couldn't do that, at least he'd get to take some fuckers to hell with him. Nik waited for the others to pipe up as to what they'd want to do, and should Penny dictate more, he'd listen and agree with her. Any goddamn action now, here, now, five days later, was better than dicking around.
He could cause damage, certainly. And that was just what he was going to do.
[/div][div class=bottoms] 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵. [/div]
[/div][/div]
[/div]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]
𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn > Land of the Wild Ones
OOC: this might be a tad bit scattered and i might have missed people, sorry. 4 hours of sleep here.
TAGS:
BELIAL.
(Always Smarter),
Lekiel
(Kindness Isn't Charity, But You're Still A Savior),
Hell0NHighWater
(Motives Unknown),
Dear Mrs. Psycho
(Helpful Witch)BGM — PORTISHEAD - THE RIP
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks][div class=tops] ⛧ ⛧ ⛧[/div][div class=speakstoo]He was a bloodless pale thing, of slender birch tree limbs, hay-colored hair and blackened ink tattoos like rivers in his veins. Of deep blue eyes as clouded as the froth of the sea lapping on gray shores. Stone-gray, weathered and encrusted from salt biting deep into the bones of the earth.
He watched the witches work, offering to cobble together food when they needed it, despite scarce, thin resources. Water, company, soft swipes of smiles that were neither catty nor impatient. Just...there. Like a transparency laid over a film reel, a colored in smile made from a water-soluble gray marker. It didn't stick.
All he had were shallow words because his desire for action was outpacing the amount of time it was taking to figure out where the others had been spirited away to. The waters of his rage weathered his scowls, then broke them, until he stared off into nothingness.
Then he'd make work again, hands busy in reds and clouds of charcoal up his arms. Charcoal the witches had used to divinate the location of their stolen ones. Of their taken ones. Of their coveted ones, pried from his very fucking fingers, he felt. Fingers he hated for being unable to keep them there.
There was nothing else he could do with his hands that wasn't the battering of typhoons against flesh that had wronged him by taking what he considered his.
There had been blood vials, and magics used across a map. The talisman Reverie had, bewitched more in some way. Things beyond him. Things he accepted, but did not understand, mostly because he felt inherently that man was not meant to float with clouds between his knees. Mankind was not meant to play with shadows under the skin. Mankind was not meant to wield the dead as weapons.
Mankind was not meant to know that devils were real, nor that ghosts were possibly everywhere and nowhere, all at once.
Some may have called his thoughts on this archaic. He called them idealistic. There is bliss in ignorance. There is, and to deny that would make the denier as poor a liar as he was, about just how much all this was hurting him.
"It should glow, the closer we are to them the brighter it will get."
"...it's not like they fled on a fucking rocket ship..." he whispered to himself, hands clasped in his lap. Why did they need all this immaculate majesty of magical ministrations? He didn't know. He guessed it was absolutely the only option. You know, opposed to striking out physically and looking with your eyeballs at tracks in the snow. Unless the barrage of snow had obscured everything so fitfully, but would it really be that hard to follow a band of raiders?
Just look at the destruction they wrought, and play follow the leader.
"Vineland, New Jersey. If I had to bet, cher, I'd say that's where your brother is being kept. That talisman should help us narrow down on the specifics." They now had a destination. He thanked the witches for their work with a mute expression, eyes cast off into the distance, that was all he could give them. Except...for Reverie, who got a slightly longer look, and a slightly broader smile. She had warmed up to him, and in turn, it made him less frozen solid in his own isolated, conflicting emotions.
She thawed him. Funny that she now had that power.
Nik honestly thought if he had been allowed to leave, and not harkened back and chained like a feral animal, reticent because behaving was preferable, he'd have been able to clunk after them in his—their—Rhys' truck. He was well enough to be able to chase with a snapping maw (thanks to his light in the dark) and his dark blessing fueling his unbelievable anger. His anger engendered in him power that some could only dream of.
But no, he had to sit there, and wait. Then, he had to help form a strategy, because working with a plan was somehow better than having started early to catch their tracks in the snow, which undoubtedly they'd have left because it wasn't like there were other cars making crosshatches across the snow, driving all over the bloody state.
Survivors were rare enough, and James' skill as a hunter was powerful enough, that he doubted even tracking them would be a problem.
"Les' get this freakshow on the road, yeah?"
"Fucking finally," was all he said, gathering his blades and whatever supplies they felt necessary to bring, saying not much of anything before stashing his shit in the truck. He slammed the trunk down, the slight pitch of his brow being the only emotion his face offered readily. But it was deceiving, this blankness, because it was actually a rolling, boiling, electrified ocean beneath his thin skin.
Easy to read now, as they went off on their way. Bunking up in which vehicles they needed to, Nik confiscating Penny to sit beside him, forced her to, really. Riding shotgun as he ate at his lower lip, despite the cigarettes keeping his mouth occupied. One hand on the wheel, a careful driver however, then came to digging at his nails.
As if to sit still meant he'd cease to exist. If she spoke, he listened, eyes darting to catch the outline of her feline cheekbone, beautiful hair casting lemon-yellow in the stark snowed light. At some point, he'd place his hand on her's, other hand clenched on the wheel, eyes steeled and gaze intense.
Every so often, it'd break, into fear, longing and loss. Suddenly, that too would give way. Nik was a work of emotive art, it was hard for him to cover it all up with white gesso, the innards still bled through. Fake plastic feelings can't stay on top of the sticky oils of the human soul. They just slide off in slabs.
The start of their journey had been five fucking days ago. With each shift in their plans, each hitch, each roadblock, obstacle, he grew quieter and less emotive. Until he just provided slates of one-word answers, or a sparse handful when required. Because any more than that and he'd be burning with rage at how much fucking time they had wasted.
The truck...had to be left behind. The blond had been explosive, upset was quite the understatement, but he was good enough at acting and spinning up lies, repainting his own expression over and over again, to mark it as upset and not unfiltered homicide against anything that vexed him.
This was his truck. Rhys' truck.
Leaving it behind felt like losing a fucking limb.
Inherently, this took longer than it needed to, because it seemed like every single obstacle was put in their place, by the hand of some angry shitty God up on high. Mad at them for who knows what reason, every single movement a push back. Every single mark erased away with paint thinner.
The blizzard picked up. He knew now that his impatience about leaving earlier would have just meant he would've gotten lost in snow drifts and fucking freeze to death. This was...abominable.
⛧ ⛧ ⛧
Nik was supposed to just handle it. He wasn't superhuman, he was just a man, and so he handled it by being quiet about it. Even five fucking days later. Because otherwise he'd be spitting vitriol like a viper slinging venom at everything in his wake. The not knowing...was what made him bitter and acrid. The not knowing if they were all okay.
If Alaska was okay, if his sister...if she was okay. Alive, breathing, strong, as well as she could be under the circumstances. His thoughts went to the lesser angels of men and their greater demons and he did think for a moment if they had tried to take from her more than just her life. He hated that. He hated that such a thing lived within people. He hated that it even lived within him, something born from the dark fruit he hadn't even bitten. But had consumed, somehow, without knowing it.
Force fed, because he wasn't worthy to walk in that bastard God's light.
It was disgusting.
Daisy, a young thing, so strong and caring, was she....did she put on a brave face? Did she fight? Was she...
He thought to all of them, avoiding the one that burned in his veins because those thoughts were deadly toxins to a man already afflicted enough to be as impulsive as an antagonized honey badger on meth.
"From the way that talisman is glowin' I'd say we're in the right place....an' even then, I'd say those fires up 'head is a sure enough sign."
This was apparent enough. They stopped and started to concoct a scheme. When all the blond, who now had his arms crossed, staring off into the distance, wanted to do, was tear people apart. Limb from limb, and make some art installations across the frozen landscape. It would've been beautiful, and it would've felt incredible, and at least he'd be able to enact something instead of being boxed into a vehicle fuming and trying to make his smile stick on his face.
"We are." Nik's deep blue gaze trailed to rest on Reverie's face, eyes softening. His red coat was bundled up around his body, and he had since found a piece of warm plaid wool to fashion into a swathed scarf. He still had the gloves Rhys had gifted to him, as well...all in all, warm enough. Warmer still from his blood pounding in his ears.
If any of them truly knew how hard it was to keep a lock on his impulsivity spurred on by the affliction running rampant in his veins and up his spine, they'd think he was some sort of fucking saint. But they didn't know and instead he gnawed his lips and cast darted glances at the others, standing nearer Penny, as if her light would keep him on solid ground.
"Laslo's men are sloppy, but I wouldn't put it past him to 'ave somethin' up his sleeve. If we 'ave a distraction, we should be able to slip in undetected, get your people, and get out."
"They managed to get the drop on us at the hotel. If they're sloppy, someone or something there isn't. I'd call them well organized. If we aren't as well, we're not going to do this right. So...let's all keep our fuckin' heads on straight, yeah?" he said, words coming out from his mouth in hot breaths into the frosted air, through his scarf like a fog. His arms were clasped tightly around himself, for warmth, but more than that. For keeping himself tied down.
It was ironic he was making it a point to tell them to keep their heads on straight when his head was anything but secured onto his neck. But at least he had an inhuman amount of control. He'd need it for this little war, certainly.
"Before you go, we at least need Reverie's talisman for the group going after the prisoners. This way at least they aren't mice in a giant maze trying to avoid traps while looking for their cheese," the woman he knew now to be named Amara spoke. It was a good enough idea, he just didn't know how any of this magic shit worked. It could work that way...or it couldn't. He thought it was particularly kind that she was doing her best to take an active stance here.
Nik didn't share as much his concerns or viewpoints. His modus operandi was quite simply to kill every living thing that was an enemy, and do it with great prejudice, and a whole lot of rage. Best to let the blond keep that to himself, however.
"They're in that building by the river over there." Reverie gestured to the building, and Nik followed her designation. His eyes spelled out for the briefest of moments all the unfathomable anger and desire for destruction he felt, but he let it fall away. Scrunched up his face down into his scarf, darting his eyes to the faces of the others.
He was only good for war.
"From what I could... see... it's not really all that complicated. The captured are in cages or jail cells. Kayden... doesn't seem to be conscious, or at least not quite aware of his surroundings. So there's not much I can sense."
"Also... The talisman certainly doesn't tell me much more than that, nor does it tell me where the traps are if there are any."
"We're just going to have to stop, look, and listen. And not make any dumb plays here. I don't need anyone else getting hurt..." he said through his scarf, avoiding looking at anyone now, staring at the snowy ground.
But then Reverie approached him, dangling the talisman, the trinket, like a symbolic little twinkling northern star. Something for him to hold onto.
He took it into his gloved hand, holding it for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he shifted his scarf to place it around his neck, and cast his gaze to the witch who had been so strangely kind to him. It seemed unlike her, and again it felt like a gift, a grace he didn't deserve in the least bit.
"Thank you, Rev. And...Allea. Amara. For all of this....let's...let's split up," Nik said behind his scarf, a slight chill in his voice, but not from the cold, "some take point for causing bullshit to draw eyes, like Allea said, then we can go in," the part-time devil said, looking at Penny for confirmation.
"But I don't think we'll be undetected, that's a bit naive, all things considered. Best to have some big guns for that. We're lucky the one thing I'm fucking good at is killing shit...and maybe bitching about crap," he tossed out a chuckle, finally some color back in his face. They'd find them, they'd fight, they'd win the day.
And if they couldn't do that, at least he'd get to take some fuckers to hell with him. Nik waited for the others to pipe up as to what they'd want to do, and should Penny dictate more, he'd listen and agree with her. Any goddamn action now, here, now, five days later, was better than dicking around.
He could cause damage, certainly. And that was just what he was going to do.
[/div][div class=bottoms] 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵. [/div]
[/div][/div]
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Hell0NHighWater
Queen of Hell
xxxx
cinnabuns
cin like cinnamon !
hunt·er
/ˈhən(t)ər/
noun
izayoiix
enjoy my child flip flopping thru reality
/ˈhən(t)ər/
noun
a person or animal that hunts; a person searching for something.
mentions grounding buddy
izayoiix
REINA SOLIS
Cold.
Everything was so...cold.
It felt even worse than when she pressed her skin against the bars of her cell in the mornings. Her whole body felt like it was freezing to the bone. When she opened her eyes she saw a blanket of snow around her, and when she felt her lap she was dismayed to realize a certain prophet wasn't resting his head there. So this must have been a dream. As she sat up to watch the area the snow began to fall with a cold breeze, causing her to shiver. She was still wearing her clothes, at least, but her dream hadn't been kind enough to offer her something to warm her...her dreams hadn't been too kind to her lately. She had no idea why she was expecting anything fancy, or even remotely nice. In her reality, there were now two bright things to look forward to opening her eyes for. But here, in this...winter wonderland?
Reina stood up, brushing some of the snow off her shoulders as she began to walk through the dreamscape. There was nothing bright here. There hadn't been anything bright here since Times Square was swallowed up. She continued walking for a while until she paused for a second, feeling that she was...being watched. It was such a strange feeling to be a pawn in your own dream. After a moment for recovery, Reina continued on her way, ignoring how the gaze on her felt inhuman, how it felt like it pierced her soul. She had to keep moving.
She found herself in a desolate city street, and as she continued on she squinted as she recognized a large military base before her. Something in her heart fluttered that she should stay away and so she crept by, not giving the base another glance. She didn't want to attract anyone's attention, especially since she could still feel eyes - beady, black, intense - on her back. She had no idea why she was the target of observation; was it to unnerve her? Because it was definitely working. As if to cement her decision, she heard a bloodcurdling scream come from the base. She didn't dare look back.
She couldn't afford to.
Even if it had sounded like Caleb.
There was no way he could be here, in this place, she tried to reason as she marched on, the swelling feeling of guilt and fear seemed like it climbed up her throat and was crushing it the further the moved away from the base, but she had to remember her reality. She had to. There was no way she would be able to save him from such a fortress, not alone.
And it wasn't real.
Reina walked on, and it seemed like hours, as her legs began to ache with every step, but her heart fluttered with relief as she saw an abandoned grocery store. She didn't speed up walking, but it brought her such a joy to finally be at a place that would offer her some solace. Maybe. If she were lucky it would make everything end up being alright. Most of the food wouldn't be gone.
She cursed herself under her breath. Why have hope in a dream like this? It was pointless unless she knew how to control them.
Reina stopped in her tracks at the sound of the crying that she heard as she came upon the double doors of the store. Her eyes scanned the inside of the store. Full of goods. She could finally stock up on the goods and go on her way. But that would require dealing with what was going on within its walls. She couldn't see much of what was happening but she could make out a girl....with dark hair....oh no.
Oh no.
Something took hold of Reina as she rushed in, practically tripping over herself as she watched one of her younger cousins over the other, sobbing hysterically. She couldn't see her cousin's twin that well underneath her but she couldn't care less. She took hold of her cousin's shoulders, giving them a slight shake.
"I'm here, I'm here. I can help."
It was then she could see what had happened better. Her other cousin must have choked on his own blood, from the pale tone of his skin, the scratches at his throat and of course, the copper scented liquid spilling from his lips. But something felt off. She looked into his eyes and bristled as she realized what was wrong.
His eyes were black. Pure black.
"Hmm. Hm, hm, hmmmm, hm, hm."
Reina felt her stomach drop as her cousin turned to her, the same beady, black, deep eyes she'd been trying to run from staring her directly in her face. The smile that came to her cousin's lips felt threatening. She felt frozen in place. Was it the fear of those eyes on her? Was it the look she was given - one of disappointment? She never wanted to see that look on either of her cousins' faces, and yet...was this her fault? Had she arrived too late? Had she not done her job? As she stared into those eyes they got closer, and they took her in, and she sank, sank deeper and deeper into them, and as she fell further down into the void, she heard only one voice.
"It seems, dearest Reina, that you can't do much of anything at all."
_____________________________________
Reina snapped to attention in her cage with a slight whimper, gripping the nearest thing in her vicinity. She whispered softly to herself the basic knowledge of her reality - her name, her birth date, the current date, where she was, what she was looking for - before she took in a silent, deep breath, relaxing her grip.
Her grip. Oh, bother.
She peered down at the blonde prophet she'd roughly grabbed, resting his head in her lap as she'd remembered back in that dreamscape. Reina's breathing turned soft as she nestled her fingers just as gently into his hair and scalp. She didn't even think about boundaries. She had no idea what those were at the moment - all she needed was comfort. She had a feeling he would forgive her when he woke up. He had been kind enough to explain some background information on the whole prophet shindig. As long as she didn't hurt him, it would be fine....
Reina felt herself ground more as she continued with her activity, reasoning that Caleb would enjoy waking up to such an event - give her a quip of sorts as he usually did. She remembered that he'd told her prophets tend to experience their visions at the same time. As if on cue, his eyes shot open, but it was obvious he was still asleep. He began shaking in her grasp, and Reina didn't say a word for a moment, just watched him through his motions as she continued to work her fingers through his scalp. His eyes shut again, and then opened. He went through a pattern of this, and she just tried to not harm him any further. Her voice found her after another minute of this, trying to bring him back to her-no, back to reality...back to her, too....
"Caleb. We need to wake up now. It's time to come back."
She watched as Rhys - the Rhys the children were so worried about - finally awaken. She released a breath she hadn't known she was holding, one that practically said "finally", as she leaned back, pressing the cell bars into her skin.
How come every time something good came, something bad had to balance it out?
Not even what, five minutes had gone by, and of course it was feeding time. And Reina felt something inside her crack as she watched Rhys defend Alaska and get dragged out of the cell before he could even finish his words. It hadn't taken more than five minutes for the friends who had fretted over him every single day to become distraught again. It was unfair and she couldn't handle it. She'd paused moving her fingers for a moment as the raiders had come in but as she watched Rhys get taken they moved quickly, as she was filled with a mix of dread and adrenaline. She couldn't sit by idly any longer. She stared down at the back of her left hand, covered of course with a leather glove to keep up her façade of being useless. There was a hunter's mark there, edged into her skin. She might have tried to look a different part but she was a hunter, there was no doubt about it.
Reina leaned down, eyes on Rhys as she whispered into Caleb's ear.
"Caleb, this is no time to delay. None of that is real. Please wake up." It was faint, but the urgency was there. He needed to be present. She needed him.
She couldn't do this alone, not like this.
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BELIAL.
wanna bewitch you in the moonlight
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PENELOPE VALE[/div]
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The five days that passed after Penny had struck a deal between the witches were stomach-clenching, heavy-hearted and pure agony. Her state of suffering was much less than her companions, specifically Nik and James, who had romantic entanglements with the ones who had been taken. They all felt, deeply of course, for those who were lost. Each morning was another hope that they would get closer and closer, but the anxiety that would eat and chew at the heartstrings of love taken was a brutal mistress. She felt, deeply, for those surrounding her. She cared for the ones taken, but more for the ones who had to live every day knowing that their loved ones and friends could be dead.
She wasn’t one for pessimistic thinking, but the hallowed halls of the haunted hotel made the dread within Penny grow. This dread had spread into the cold compartments that the group had traveled out in. She was usually supportive and good-natured, but within the cramped confinements, she felt the muscles between her neck tense. She had felt useless, in part, for not being able to contribute. The witches had done their part; their awe-inspiring ritual that made the hairs on Penny’s arms rise. Forever mystified by magic, she was grateful that her idea of three witches tackling a single goal would result in a fast reward. But the weather that whipped and throttled the group was out of her reach and made the Blessed feel an even deeper level of frustration. It was out of her hands and no one could control the weather, but she sure as hell felt responsible for it someway.
Even when driving with Nik, who hadn’t given her much option to travel elsewhere, she had felt the cold and the anxiety pierce into her spine. The two had finally restored their level of camaraderie, if not more, during those five days. She felt closer to Nik than she had in the later part of their friendship, prior to the world ending. She could rely on him, and she felt no restraint in holding him fiercely when the truck had broken down. She knew it had meant a lot to him, especially upon finding out that it was the truck that he had shared with Rhys (and even her memory recalled being saved in that vehicle by Rhys himself, which reignited her desire and drive to get him out alive).
Slowly but surely the group had made their way. Penny had Nik, but when there was a spare moment, she devoted her time to becoming better. More prepared to fight against these heathens, who she no longer held at an arm’s length. The idea of crushing the raiders to her chest, gun in hand to blow their brains out made her feel a wave of victory. The threshold had been broken by the death of that raider, a week ago, at her hands. When she slept, she remembered each gruesome detail. The sharpener in his eye. The blood squirting out, slipping between the gooey slabs of muscle and flesh that were twisted. She saw each memory in vivid detail, and she remembered the shadowy visage of death cloaking her vision. It had been life or death, and she had chosen life—at the cost of death. But a justified death. An evil’s death.
She would kill those bastards where they stood.
“I wouldn’t take too long on decidin’ a game plan though. Who knows how much time we got. But whenever yer all ready, we should head in Quick, quiet, and as brutally as possible. They’ll never know what hit ‘em.” Allea was almost too excited, and it was her words that returned Penny to reality. She had been stewing in her thoughts, as what the usual had been for that last week. Penny nodded, the quick cold of the blizzard suddenly biting into her coat. She pulled herself tightly and acknowledged the voices around her.
A sudden tap from behind made Penny turn, and she regarded the woman named Simjang who had joined their little rescue team for… some reason or another. Penny hadn’t fully understood, but she assumed it came from some level of goodness in the woman’s heart. It made the blonde smile a little, locking eyes with the smaller woman. “Would you like a pistol? It’s fully loaded and I can spare you some ammo.” Simjang said, causing Penny’s eyebrows to raise. She had been fully prepared to head out with the battering and beating objects she had accrued from their time at the hotel. Having a gun would be… very useful.
She had in fact, employed (without a price) Ryan to teach her a bit of shooting technique. She’d kept it strictly professional, but there was something about the hunter that made her patience be playfully tested. Perhaps it was his snark, and her ability to whip it right back at him, that made the dynamic between the two so comfortable. Five days of travelling and she was sure she could rely on him. Five days of occasional practice with wielding a gun was better than having no experience. Penny had wanted to be useful.
A gun was useful.
“I,” the blonde sucked in some cold air. “Yes, I would. Thank you. I won’t forget about this.” She carefully extracted the weapon from Simjang’s hand and stuffed the magazines into her back pocket. Penny felt the weight of the pistol and used it to steel her resolve. They were so close.
She turned back around and joined Nik, who was conversing with Reverie briefly. Penny had grown fond of the witch. She had a refined elegance that made the blonde blush, and her relationship with Nik was enough that Penny regarded Reverie highly. She nodded to Reverie, who slipped her talisman into Nik’s hand.
“It’ll come back to you Reverie, along with everyone else.” Penny smiled at the witch.
"Thank you, Rev. And... Allea. Amara. For all of this.... let's...let's split up, some take point for causing bullshit to draw eyes, like Allea said, then we can go in,” Penny nodded when Nik looked over at her, fully coinciding with his plan so far. Lives would be on the line, but that was the point of traveling all the way out here. To save the others. Penny was prepared to go down fighting if it meant the others would be freed.
“But I don't think we'll be undetected, that's a bit naive, all things considered. Best to have some big guns for that. We're lucky the one thing I'm fucking good at is killing shit...and maybe bitching about crap,” Penny snorted at Nik’s response and gave his shoulder a slight shove.
“You’re the best at whining, hands down.” Penny murmured, eyes glowing a bit with humor. She cleared her throat and regarded the group, trying her best to remain level headed even if all she wanted to do was run in guns blazing. Brains over brawn, always.
“Alright all, we’ll split for sure. There’s enough of us that we can tackle all of this with enough manpower. Ryan, you take Damian and Rufus down that road… make some noise and keep the raiders away from the shelter. Take Woofus too, or I think he’ll get mad at me for not letting him enjoy anything.” She looked down at the pup, tight at her side, who was staring miserably down at the snow. Hearing his name however, he perked up and barked happily before trotting over to Rufus and Ryan.
As soon as she raised her head however, she blinked and saw Allea hit the ground. Penny gasped loudly, “ALLEA!” before racing forward to the incapacitated witch. Perhaps she had simply slipped, or something else entirely, it didn’t matter to Penny. All she saw was a seizure ripping through Allea’s body. She noticed Rufus was on the ground too and shouted for someone to help the younger man as well. br][/br]
Penny let out a small shriek, hitting the ground right on her knees and grasping the woman’s head. Pain burst through her kneecaps, but she ignored it completely. The convulsions that followed were short and brutal jerks, and Penny did her best to keep the woman’s head straight and off the ground. Penny looked up in alarm to the others, but as soon as her attention drifted to the convulsing witch the shakes stopped completely. Allea lurched upward and Penny flew back, throwing up her hands in alarm. She stood up slowly, watching Allea closely for any sign of injury or answer.
“Artworks are not to be built in blood and bone, the angel of justice will bring him home, the Lich, that ugly spell-caster tome, holds the center of that demonic monolith where no mortal should roam.” The words that spilled from Allea’s lips left a newfound chill to spike up Penny’s spine. She looked to the others for some mutual confirmation that what had just happened did indeed happen. What she said nearly slipped from Penny’s mind as quickly as they had been spoken, but she made sure to catalog it completely. Something told her that this prophetic rhyme would hold some rhythm later.
Before she could get a word out, or to reach out a hand to Allea, the witch was already gone.
Penny’s brow furrowed but she shook her head, letting Reverie follow Allea. They had their own mission to take to.
“Alright, uhm… right, so…. First group good for distraction and damage control? Everyone else? We’re going in. Once sufficient chaos is raised, we’ll head in. Keep low and watch each other’s back. We’re gonna need everyone for the end game.” She nodded, confident in her decisions.
“Let’s start this party.” Penny said, clenching the pistol tighter in her hand and gesturing for the first group. “Give us a signal, something big, and we’ll head in. Good luck you guys...” She smiled at the boys and joined Nik at his side.
“We’re going in Nik. We’re getting our people back. Rhys too.” She reached for his hand with her free one, squeezing her friend’s fingers tightly. [/div]
[div class="TinyLines"][/div] Interacting:
Lekiel
Hell0NHighWater
BasiliskVeranda
Dear Mrs. Psycho
thefinalgirl
| Mentioned: basically everyone in the rescue squad| Located: East Oak Veterinary Hospital, Vineland, New Jersey (Outside)
[div class="TinyLines" style="margin-bottom:0px;"][/div]
[/div]
[/div]
The five days that passed after Penny had struck a deal between the witches were stomach-clenching, heavy-hearted and pure agony. Her state of suffering was much less than her companions, specifically Nik and James, who had romantic entanglements with the ones who had been taken. They all felt, deeply of course, for those who were lost. Each morning was another hope that they would get closer and closer, but the anxiety that would eat and chew at the heartstrings of love taken was a brutal mistress. She felt, deeply, for those surrounding her. She cared for the ones taken, but more for the ones who had to live every day knowing that their loved ones and friends could be dead.
She wasn’t one for pessimistic thinking, but the hallowed halls of the haunted hotel made the dread within Penny grow. This dread had spread into the cold compartments that the group had traveled out in. She was usually supportive and good-natured, but within the cramped confinements, she felt the muscles between her neck tense. She had felt useless, in part, for not being able to contribute. The witches had done their part; their awe-inspiring ritual that made the hairs on Penny’s arms rise. Forever mystified by magic, she was grateful that her idea of three witches tackling a single goal would result in a fast reward. But the weather that whipped and throttled the group was out of her reach and made the Blessed feel an even deeper level of frustration. It was out of her hands and no one could control the weather, but she sure as hell felt responsible for it someway.
Even when driving with Nik, who hadn’t given her much option to travel elsewhere, she had felt the cold and the anxiety pierce into her spine. The two had finally restored their level of camaraderie, if not more, during those five days. She felt closer to Nik than she had in the later part of their friendship, prior to the world ending. She could rely on him, and she felt no restraint in holding him fiercely when the truck had broken down. She knew it had meant a lot to him, especially upon finding out that it was the truck that he had shared with Rhys (and even her memory recalled being saved in that vehicle by Rhys himself, which reignited her desire and drive to get him out alive).
Slowly but surely the group had made their way. Penny had Nik, but when there was a spare moment, she devoted her time to becoming better. More prepared to fight against these heathens, who she no longer held at an arm’s length. The idea of crushing the raiders to her chest, gun in hand to blow their brains out made her feel a wave of victory. The threshold had been broken by the death of that raider, a week ago, at her hands. When she slept, she remembered each gruesome detail. The sharpener in his eye. The blood squirting out, slipping between the gooey slabs of muscle and flesh that were twisted. She saw each memory in vivid detail, and she remembered the shadowy visage of death cloaking her vision. It had been life or death, and she had chosen life—at the cost of death. But a justified death. An evil’s death.
She would kill those bastards where they stood.
“I wouldn’t take too long on decidin’ a game plan though. Who knows how much time we got. But whenever yer all ready, we should head in Quick, quiet, and as brutally as possible. They’ll never know what hit ‘em.” Allea was almost too excited, and it was her words that returned Penny to reality. She had been stewing in her thoughts, as what the usual had been for that last week. Penny nodded, the quick cold of the blizzard suddenly biting into her coat. She pulled herself tightly and acknowledged the voices around her.
A sudden tap from behind made Penny turn, and she regarded the woman named Simjang who had joined their little rescue team for… some reason or another. Penny hadn’t fully understood, but she assumed it came from some level of goodness in the woman’s heart. It made the blonde smile a little, locking eyes with the smaller woman. “Would you like a pistol? It’s fully loaded and I can spare you some ammo.” Simjang said, causing Penny’s eyebrows to raise. She had been fully prepared to head out with the battering and beating objects she had accrued from their time at the hotel. Having a gun would be… very useful.
She had in fact, employed (without a price) Ryan to teach her a bit of shooting technique. She’d kept it strictly professional, but there was something about the hunter that made her patience be playfully tested. Perhaps it was his snark, and her ability to whip it right back at him, that made the dynamic between the two so comfortable. Five days of travelling and she was sure she could rely on him. Five days of occasional practice with wielding a gun was better than having no experience. Penny had wanted to be useful.
A gun was useful.
“I,” the blonde sucked in some cold air. “Yes, I would. Thank you. I won’t forget about this.” She carefully extracted the weapon from Simjang’s hand and stuffed the magazines into her back pocket. Penny felt the weight of the pistol and used it to steel her resolve. They were so close.
She turned back around and joined Nik, who was conversing with Reverie briefly. Penny had grown fond of the witch. She had a refined elegance that made the blonde blush, and her relationship with Nik was enough that Penny regarded Reverie highly. She nodded to Reverie, who slipped her talisman into Nik’s hand.
“It’ll come back to you Reverie, along with everyone else.” Penny smiled at the witch.
"Thank you, Rev. And... Allea. Amara. For all of this.... let's...let's split up, some take point for causing bullshit to draw eyes, like Allea said, then we can go in,” Penny nodded when Nik looked over at her, fully coinciding with his plan so far. Lives would be on the line, but that was the point of traveling all the way out here. To save the others. Penny was prepared to go down fighting if it meant the others would be freed.
“But I don't think we'll be undetected, that's a bit naive, all things considered. Best to have some big guns for that. We're lucky the one thing I'm fucking good at is killing shit...and maybe bitching about crap,” Penny snorted at Nik’s response and gave his shoulder a slight shove.
“You’re the best at whining, hands down.” Penny murmured, eyes glowing a bit with humor. She cleared her throat and regarded the group, trying her best to remain level headed even if all she wanted to do was run in guns blazing. Brains over brawn, always.
“Alright all, we’ll split for sure. There’s enough of us that we can tackle all of this with enough manpower. Ryan, you take Damian and Rufus down that road… make some noise and keep the raiders away from the shelter. Take Woofus too, or I think he’ll get mad at me for not letting him enjoy anything.” She looked down at the pup, tight at her side, who was staring miserably down at the snow. Hearing his name however, he perked up and barked happily before trotting over to Rufus and Ryan.
As soon as she raised her head however, she blinked and saw Allea hit the ground. Penny gasped loudly, “ALLEA!” before racing forward to the incapacitated witch. Perhaps she had simply slipped, or something else entirely, it didn’t matter to Penny. All she saw was a seizure ripping through Allea’s body. She noticed Rufus was on the ground too and shouted for someone to help the younger man as well. br][/br]
Penny let out a small shriek, hitting the ground right on her knees and grasping the woman’s head. Pain burst through her kneecaps, but she ignored it completely. The convulsions that followed were short and brutal jerks, and Penny did her best to keep the woman’s head straight and off the ground. Penny looked up in alarm to the others, but as soon as her attention drifted to the convulsing witch the shakes stopped completely. Allea lurched upward and Penny flew back, throwing up her hands in alarm. She stood up slowly, watching Allea closely for any sign of injury or answer.
“Artworks are not to be built in blood and bone, the angel of justice will bring him home, the Lich, that ugly spell-caster tome, holds the center of that demonic monolith where no mortal should roam.” The words that spilled from Allea’s lips left a newfound chill to spike up Penny’s spine. She looked to the others for some mutual confirmation that what had just happened did indeed happen. What she said nearly slipped from Penny’s mind as quickly as they had been spoken, but she made sure to catalog it completely. Something told her that this prophetic rhyme would hold some rhythm later.
Before she could get a word out, or to reach out a hand to Allea, the witch was already gone.
Penny’s brow furrowed but she shook her head, letting Reverie follow Allea. They had their own mission to take to.
“Alright, uhm… right, so…. First group good for distraction and damage control? Everyone else? We’re going in. Once sufficient chaos is raised, we’ll head in. Keep low and watch each other’s back. We’re gonna need everyone for the end game.” She nodded, confident in her decisions.
“Let’s start this party.” Penny said, clenching the pistol tighter in her hand and gesturing for the first group. “Give us a signal, something big, and we’ll head in. Good luck you guys...” She smiled at the boys and joined Nik at his side.
“We’re going in Nik. We’re getting our people back. Rhys too.” She reached for his hand with her free one, squeezing her friend’s fingers tightly. [/div]
[div class="TinyLines"][/div] Interacting:
Lekiel
Hell0NHighWater
BasiliskVeranda
Dear Mrs. Psycho
thefinalgirl
| Mentioned: basically everyone in the rescue squad| Located: East Oak Veterinary Hospital, Vineland, New Jersey (Outside)
[div class="TinyLines" style="margin-bottom:0px;"][/div]
[/div]
[/div]
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izayoiix
cяч мε α яıνεя
code by RI.a
cinnabuns
cin like cinnamon !
al·chem·ist
/ˈˈalkəməst/
noun
/ˈˈalkəməst/
noun
a person who transforms or creates something through a seemingly magical process.
mentionsadorable witch and her familiar, [REDACTED] hunter, the lovers™
NAMRATA VAIGYAANIK
Five days was too long. But it was enough time to allow Namrata to open her own mind more. To be honest, she had never thought witches, hunters, prophets...none of this had registered in her mind before what had happened in Times Square. So Namrata spent most of her time observing some of the people she found the most interesting at the moment.
Every day she'd spent near the young witch Theta was one that featured moments of slight hilarity. She'd turned her head one day while listening and heard a reptilian hiss, one after another, before the human had hissed back in response to quiet whatever she was protecting. It was easy after a while to determine the creature was a snake, and a very smart one, at that. Theta kept her pet well hidden, which was smart - who knew if her snake - cleverly named Episilon - would last long if she wasn't hidden away? Anyway, the bond between the two subjects were quite heartwarming to watch, and it was quite nice conversing with the girl about her beliefs as a witch.
Namri had no real background in the lore of witches, so she felt indebted to the girl for offering her some assistance. Watching Theta and Epsilon, however, made Namri wonder if she would have good luck securing her own familiar in a hell-filled land such as this one....She felt a feeling she pinged as a sort of envy. She wished she could have a confidant such as Epsilon, and she bet it made their situation a lot less lonely. Maybe, if their chance to get out of this cage came, she could find a source of comfort and bond more with Theta over such a lifelong discovery. She seemed kind enough.
The next person that had piqued her curiosity was the other she'd asked about the lore of witches. Elijah. His perspective as a hunter was an invaluable one that she'd been quite excited to input into her data. He could tell her weaknesses, his own actual experiences....Namrata wasn't sure why she felt the need to make bonds if death seemed so certain, but she felt herself craving socialization, wanting to create healthy, positive interactions in the last supposed days of her life. So she found solace in speaking to Theta, but also when she conversed with Elijah.
Talking with him was different. Yes, he seemed kind at heart, much like Theta, but...something within him, something he wasn't willing to discuss had changed his opinions of witches, that was certain. She could hear it when his tone changed when their talks slipped to those involving her race; he seemed to tense up a bit, and his words just seemed brusque, as if he wanted to discuss other things, anything but that. Namri was just too curious, and maybe it was her genuineness or the way her eyes seemed to gleam when she asked, but Elijah answered every question regardless of how he felt, and she never asked ones that were too personal. She didn't want to ruin the bond they were beginning to have.
She found herself enjoying the moments he had a smile on his face, as it brought her heart a degree of warmth she wasn't sure she was supposed to be feeling. When he did let out a chuckle it felt like he, himself, had gently strummed on her heartstrings. She pegged it as a slight infatuation, just to mark it down as something so she could stop questioning what it was in her mind, and tried to continue normal conversation after that. But then, still, she attempted not to ask anything that could be classified as private. After all, it wasn't her business, and if she did die...five days weren't enough to really develop a stronger one than that. It would be foolish to rush something so delicate at a time like this.
Of course, she said that to herself, while every day, she eyed the two captives who seemingly thwarted that hypothesis of hers. Within a few days the two had gotten so close they had begun sleeping next to each other. It seemed that the two benefited from such proximity. Prophets seemed...much more relaxed when they had someone to share their troubles with. In a matter of a few hours Caleb had seemed more relaxed in Reina's presence. She couldn't make much of the woman - she obviously was interested in prophets for a reason and at night, when everyone was asleep, she saw her fiddle with something in her boot. However, it was quite intriguing to see how the stress of the current situation could further and speed up such relationships between beings who had never met before. Of course, that depended on the will of both individuals and their personalities, and how well the first impression had impacted the two....Nevertheless, they seemed quite happy in their intimacy.
That must have been a nice last thought to have, knowing you were loved before you were taken away.
Namrata had been up early that morning, as she usually was. She just couldn't sleep that well recently. She wasn't sure what it was - maybe all of the new knowledge in her head needed to settle properly during her awake moments, so her mind only allotted her a certain amount of time for sleeping. She could deal with that. She combed through everything in her mind, placed it in the proper sections in her own mental library of sorts. It had to be in the early hours of the morning while her allies slept, so she wouldn't miss out on anything they did during the day. So when she heard rustling, her grey eyes fixated on the body moving.
"Snowfall! Are you okay? Is...is anyone hurt I can...fuck...if I can get out of this--"
Namrata was proud to catalog the boy known as Rhys to be among the living once more, instead of his earlier tag, comatose. It seemed his friends were equally as pleased to see him alive and well, and she watched, with a slight fondness in her heart, as Alaska, Daisy, Kayden, and some of the other captives conversed. It was good to get them talking again so early. It always felt odd after feeding time, after another one of them had been taken. Namri had been worried one of Rhys' friends would have been taken before he could have seen them again. Her eyes shifted over to Reina, who woke up with a threatened sound. Had she had a bad dream? Something dawned on her before she could continue that thought, however.
It was just about that time she'd been thinking of earlier.
"Al'rite, ya pigs! You know what time it is!"
We are not the pigs, here. She thought coldly. She watched as Rhys took Alaska's place in the food chain and her heart dropped. She let out a shaky breath as she took over her glasses. She, for once in her life, didn't want to see what was happening. She fiddled with the screw on her glasses, tightening it properly as she heard Rhys be dragged out of the cage, and Caleb convulsing by his spot with Reina. She was kind of....fed up with this, having to classify alive people as dead once they left the unfortunately safe space of the cage. What a juxtaposition. But she couldn't do anything without equal footing. She couldn't see them but she definitely could hear them, and when the raiders left, and she heard Reina whisper to Caleb in an attempt to bring him back from his vision, Namri pulled the plastic back off of her glasses in an anxious fit, revealing a sharp point.
She could use this.
They just needed a distraction to get the guards to look away for a moment. She locked eyes with Reina for a moment while Caleb figured out what was happening before fixing her glasses back, sliding them carefully back onto her face. As long as they could get the guards away, there would be enough time for all of them to make a break for it.
She just hoped for a miracle.
Every day she'd spent near the young witch Theta was one that featured moments of slight hilarity. She'd turned her head one day while listening and heard a reptilian hiss, one after another, before the human had hissed back in response to quiet whatever she was protecting. It was easy after a while to determine the creature was a snake, and a very smart one, at that. Theta kept her pet well hidden, which was smart - who knew if her snake - cleverly named Episilon - would last long if she wasn't hidden away? Anyway, the bond between the two subjects were quite heartwarming to watch, and it was quite nice conversing with the girl about her beliefs as a witch.
Namri had no real background in the lore of witches, so she felt indebted to the girl for offering her some assistance. Watching Theta and Epsilon, however, made Namri wonder if she would have good luck securing her own familiar in a hell-filled land such as this one....She felt a feeling she pinged as a sort of envy. She wished she could have a confidant such as Epsilon, and she bet it made their situation a lot less lonely. Maybe, if their chance to get out of this cage came, she could find a source of comfort and bond more with Theta over such a lifelong discovery. She seemed kind enough.
The next person that had piqued her curiosity was the other she'd asked about the lore of witches. Elijah. His perspective as a hunter was an invaluable one that she'd been quite excited to input into her data. He could tell her weaknesses, his own actual experiences....Namrata wasn't sure why she felt the need to make bonds if death seemed so certain, but she felt herself craving socialization, wanting to create healthy, positive interactions in the last supposed days of her life. So she found solace in speaking to Theta, but also when she conversed with Elijah.
Talking with him was different. Yes, he seemed kind at heart, much like Theta, but...something within him, something he wasn't willing to discuss had changed his opinions of witches, that was certain. She could hear it when his tone changed when their talks slipped to those involving her race; he seemed to tense up a bit, and his words just seemed brusque, as if he wanted to discuss other things, anything but that. Namri was just too curious, and maybe it was her genuineness or the way her eyes seemed to gleam when she asked, but Elijah answered every question regardless of how he felt, and she never asked ones that were too personal. She didn't want to ruin the bond they were beginning to have.
She found herself enjoying the moments he had a smile on his face, as it brought her heart a degree of warmth she wasn't sure she was supposed to be feeling. When he did let out a chuckle it felt like he, himself, had gently strummed on her heartstrings. She pegged it as a slight infatuation, just to mark it down as something so she could stop questioning what it was in her mind, and tried to continue normal conversation after that. But then, still, she attempted not to ask anything that could be classified as private. After all, it wasn't her business, and if she did die...five days weren't enough to really develop a stronger one than that. It would be foolish to rush something so delicate at a time like this.
Of course, she said that to herself, while every day, she eyed the two captives who seemingly thwarted that hypothesis of hers. Within a few days the two had gotten so close they had begun sleeping next to each other. It seemed that the two benefited from such proximity. Prophets seemed...much more relaxed when they had someone to share their troubles with. In a matter of a few hours Caleb had seemed more relaxed in Reina's presence. She couldn't make much of the woman - she obviously was interested in prophets for a reason and at night, when everyone was asleep, she saw her fiddle with something in her boot. However, it was quite intriguing to see how the stress of the current situation could further and speed up such relationships between beings who had never met before. Of course, that depended on the will of both individuals and their personalities, and how well the first impression had impacted the two....Nevertheless, they seemed quite happy in their intimacy.
That must have been a nice last thought to have, knowing you were loved before you were taken away.
Namrata had been up early that morning, as she usually was. She just couldn't sleep that well recently. She wasn't sure what it was - maybe all of the new knowledge in her head needed to settle properly during her awake moments, so her mind only allotted her a certain amount of time for sleeping. She could deal with that. She combed through everything in her mind, placed it in the proper sections in her own mental library of sorts. It had to be in the early hours of the morning while her allies slept, so she wouldn't miss out on anything they did during the day. So when she heard rustling, her grey eyes fixated on the body moving.
"Snowfall! Are you okay? Is...is anyone hurt I can...fuck...if I can get out of this--"
Namrata was proud to catalog the boy known as Rhys to be among the living once more, instead of his earlier tag, comatose. It seemed his friends were equally as pleased to see him alive and well, and she watched, with a slight fondness in her heart, as Alaska, Daisy, Kayden, and some of the other captives conversed. It was good to get them talking again so early. It always felt odd after feeding time, after another one of them had been taken. Namri had been worried one of Rhys' friends would have been taken before he could have seen them again. Her eyes shifted over to Reina, who woke up with a threatened sound. Had she had a bad dream? Something dawned on her before she could continue that thought, however.
It was just about that time she'd been thinking of earlier.
"Al'rite, ya pigs! You know what time it is!"
We are not the pigs, here. She thought coldly. She watched as Rhys took Alaska's place in the food chain and her heart dropped. She let out a shaky breath as she took over her glasses. She, for once in her life, didn't want to see what was happening. She fiddled with the screw on her glasses, tightening it properly as she heard Rhys be dragged out of the cage, and Caleb convulsing by his spot with Reina. She was kind of....fed up with this, having to classify alive people as dead once they left the unfortunately safe space of the cage. What a juxtaposition. But she couldn't do anything without equal footing. She couldn't see them but she definitely could hear them, and when the raiders left, and she heard Reina whisper to Caleb in an attempt to bring him back from his vision, Namri pulled the plastic back off of her glasses in an anxious fit, revealing a sharp point.
She could use this.
They just needed a distraction to get the guards to look away for a moment. She locked eyes with Reina for a moment while Caleb figured out what was happening before fixing her glasses back, sliding them carefully back onto her face. As long as they could get the guards away, there would be enough time for all of them to make a break for it.
She just hoped for a miracle.
Dear Mrs. Psycho
Junior Member
Elijah Blackwood
Location: Vineland, NJ, in a Prison Cell of Raider Headquarters
Mentions: Alaska, Rhys and Namri
Interactions:
Chise_Robin_
,
cinnabuns
Another five days went by. That's makes it about ten or eleven days since he has been here. Surprisingly alive. Everyday, went he heard the feeders come in, his heart stopped, thinking today was his day to die. The odds were the greatest in his favor, as he was one of the ones that have been here the longest. He would stop breathing and watch as the feeders walked by the cages with such high and mighty attitudes, snarling, and enjoying the terror they created as they dragged out who was the next one to be feed to whatever monsters were down the hall and then some. Everyday, when he wasn't the one picked, it was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders for that period of time, but also an amount of guilt. He was here for so long, and somehow, while he continued to live, others were dying in less the time he had been there.
Not all moments were as gut-retching in the five days the new group was in the cell. To much unexpectedness and his surprise, there were moments that made living in, what was essentially a dog cage, less miserable. Even though everyone was stuck in a prison cell, it seems they made the most of it , even as strangers, as the days came down to their potential deaths. Well, at least Namri did.
Namri's curiousness outweighed any other emotion as they sat in the cell together. To him, he thought it was her way of distracting herself from the reality of their situation. To find something that would occupy her mind, so, he guessed, panic or fear didn't take over. He understood that, he too, found ways to cope with where he found himself, so he was glad to satisfy her need, by giving her the answers to the questions she asked, no matter how painful the memory that came with them.
Magic. It wasn't something the young hunter didn't like talking about much anymore. But, he was willing to entertain the young girl's thought on the subject, even though he was a little cold about it. His answers were flat, but at times, when he would remember the happiness it would bring him when he was little, he would smile, and speak as if magic was just as so. Just because he wasn't a fan of magic, or believe in the uses for it anymore, doesn't mean he needed to put it on this girl either. Yet, beyond that, he made it clear, without even saying so, that things too personal were meant to be left untouched. It wasn't his story to tell after all.
"Snowfall! Are you okay? Is...is anyone hurt I can...fuck...if I can get out of this--" Elijah looked up, and saw the man, he pretty much thought was dead at this point, wake up suddenly and to a start. Alaska, who had pretty much devoted her time to watching the man, Rhys, was his name, in the five days she was in the cell. It was like the guy had his own little protector, not that he looked like he needed it with the amount of muscle he had. Now, she tending to him just as she had while he was unconscious, calming him down and setting him straight, as he watched them converse for a good minute or two. Honestly, he felt empathy as he sat there. It reminded him of the relationship between his sister and him, and he started to long for one more moment. The longing didn't last, before it was replaced with the familiar heart in your throat feeling.
"Al'rite, ya pigs! You know what time it is!" Feeding time.There was no need to explain it any farther then those two words. He stopped breathing, as they stopped at their cage door, and his heart skipped many beats as they opened it. This was it, he thought. He was pretty sure his long reign in the cell has come to an end. It was his death day. He prepared for the feeling of being harshly grabbed and lugged up to only be forcefully be dragged to his death. But, that moment never came and instead they grabbed the spitfire, Alaska.
"No! No! Don't you fuckin' take her! Take me! I'll go fuckin' willingly, just don't touch her." The now conscious man, hollered and pleaded with the raiders to spare her, and to his surprise, the raider did, and quickly too. So quickly, Elijah didn't know what to say, do, or even think in that moment. Everything was a blur after those words were spoken. Before anyone in that cage knew, what he assumed as their once leader, was being dragged in the darkness and into the mouths of whatever their shared monster was. He just hoped, for some of his new cellmates sake, those that had ties to the young man anyway, that Rhys would die quickly, leaving the suffering for someone else.
Events after that were just as quick. Alaska went, as Elijah would call it, full on psycho after the taking of Rhys. She screamed out a description of what was going to happen to them once she got out. Unfazed, they told her to shut up, as if they knew that her odds of killing them were no where near close. He knew where her anger was coming from. She had just literally gained her friend back from the world of the sleep, only to lose him to be taken to the world of the dead only minutes apart. He could only imagine what they must've felt like as he witnessed it.
"I'm sorry," Elijah said. "About Rhys." It was the only thing he could offer her in that moment. Condolences. It wasn't much, but he hoped it was enough.
thefinalgirl
all air and no brains.
Simjang Kim
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Lakyr
The Dark Lord of Laziness
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[/div][div class=statusText]Location: East Oak Veterinary Hospital, Vineland, New Jersey
Interactions:
BELIAL.
Beleth
Dragon Slayer Arcos
[/div][/div][div class=title]Ryan[/div][div class=text]The five days after the kidnapping passed slowly. The people around him, this new group, they were a lot quieter than before, obviously, and their faces were depictions of despair and anger. Quiet was Ryan too and he wore a sullen expression, but he did not share the pain the rest of them felt. To him, this was barely more than a group of strangers, and he had seen too much death and pain in his time. He's grown cold. After that one evening of laughter, it just felt like the same old apocalypse again. He hated to admit it, but with every other group of survivors, he would've left in the first night, taking what he needs and never turning back. And he thought about it every night but he couldn't leave. Because one thing was different and it changed everything. He had found James and he wouldn't leave his side again, unless ... unless he was about to turn. But James was fond of these people, he was happy with them, saw some kind of newfound family in this group. So Ryan had to stay and try to find the same in these people.
He knew they were possibly heading towards their death, but turning away wasn't an option. Not this time. So instead of planning how to get out there, Ryan started to prepare for a fight. He used the bottles and the alcohol they had left together with some gasoline they could spare and made himself a couple of makeshift fire bombs. Three to be exact. Not perfect, but they should prove helpful in getting attention. Early on he volunteered to be part of a distraction if need be, hoping to take the bulk fight onto himself and the poor souls that might join him so that James and the others won't have too much to worry about when saving their friends.
There wasn't much more he could do as they followed. He stayed in the back, quiet, there if somebody needed something from him but he left all of them to their sorrow. The only other thing that happened as they followed the raiders' tracks aided by magic was that Penny approached him with a gun in hand asking for some help with it. Ryan wasn't a teacher but he had, with years of practice, enough experience to train her a bit. The time spend with her was a little bit more lighthearted than the rest of the time, spend silent in the back of the group.
After the five days, they finally found the raiders' camp. People began to make a quick plan, but Ryan already knew his place. The only question was if he'd have anybody on his side or not. He'd be the distraction with or without help, trying to take down as many as he could. If he was alone, he might need a better plan, he couldn't take all of them head-on. But with help ... he didn't feel like he could rely on anybody here anyways. And everyone he felt like he could rely on in the slightest ... he didn't want them around in that fight. They were the reason he chose to be the distraction, he wanted them to have it easier to get in and out.
“Alright all, we’ll split for sure. There’s enough of us that we can tackle all of this with enough manpower. Ryan, you take Damian and Rufus down that road… make some noise and keep the raiders away from the shelter. Take Woofus too, or I think he’ll get mad at me for not letting him enjoy anything.” Ryan nodded, Damian and Rufus they've both just joined this group, so he knew them even less. He had barely exchanged a word with them if any. But he was fine with them joining him, he expected nothing of them and only hoped they wouldn't be stupid enough to stab him in the back or get themselves killed. With Woofus on the other hand, he had somebody he could kind of trust. Ryan had established a quick but small friendship with the dog in the short time with this group and the dog was a loyal companion to Penny. At least someone he was sure wouldn't turn on him.
“Give us a signal, something big, and we’ll head in. Good luck you guys...” Ryan was kneeling down, petting Woofus who had been sent over, but he looked up as Penny talked. "I'll do my best. Just, wait for a little longer once the fire breaks out, got it?" He stood up and stretched, then he took off his backpack and made a mental note to come back here to pick it up again. He didn't need to carry around a useless burden on his back when he was going into a fight. He opened the bag up after he put it down and got his other two melee weapons out. A tactical tomahawk and a tactical kukri, weapons he had before the apocalypse had even started and they were still in a good condition. He fastened them on his sides, checked his three molotov cocktails, then picked up his sledgehammer again, crossbow hanging over one of his shoulders. He looked at Damian and Rufus and told them to follow him.
They walked through some woods, rounding the raiders' camp to stay out of sight whilst getting to a favorable position. They were walking side by side quietly, the only sounds around them the winds' weak howl and the snow and leaves crunching under their boots. Ryan's eyes narrowed at Rufus muttering something under his breath but Ryan kept quiet. There was no use for words unless needed right now and the other man would've spoken louder if it had been something he was supposed to hear anyways. So he put his eyes back towards the camp and kept walking, no time for distractions.
The road, they were now close to the camp and at the right position to get started with their plan, but still hidden in the trees. Ryan told the others to stop and get their heads down with a quick hand gesture as he did the same. From there he could look into the camp and decided how to start. He chose to RV's at the camps' edge as his targets, all he had to do before he could get closer to set them ablaze was taking out the lonely guard closeby. Ryan leaned his sledgehammer against a tree next to him and took his crossbow in both his hands, readying a bolt almost mechanically. His eyes were still searching the camp for any other guards in the vicinity, there were none too close to his target.
Ryan took aim, it was a far shot, but he was a good marksman with this thing. And he could help out a little when the projectile was on its way. So he shot and then concentrated on the bolt, not only did he correct his aim to hit the raider's throat he also sped the bolt to make it an even more devastating blow. The man didn't see it coming, fell to his knees and then on his side, only gargling for a few moments. Ryan threw the crossbow back over his shoulder, grabbed his hammer and got running towards the road. He did have a good throwing range with the help of his telekinesis, but it wasn't that good.
Getting close enough he mindlessly threw his hammer to the ground, took the first bottle and lit it up before hurling it at one of the RV's. Flames burst across the vehicle as the bottle shattered. Ryan lit the second one, throwing it at the other RV. Yells came from inside and from different parts of the camp, men rushed out of their vehicles and others started running towards the flames. The distraction was working. Ryan lit up the last molotov and this time tossed it at the first handful of raiders he could see in range.
He didn't stop to watch the flames erupt around them or to listen to surprised screams, instead, he readied his crossbow again, took aim and quickly downed another raider from afar. Another bolt, another man down. This he repeated a few more times before the raiders knew where exactly the attack was coming from. He put the crossbow down to the ground, held out his right hand and pulled in his hammer and then charged towards the enemy. "BRING IT ON, ASSHOLES!"[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div][class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #000000; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]
[/div][div class=statusText]Location: East Oak Veterinary Hospital, Vineland, New Jersey Interactions:
BELIAL.
Beleth
Dragon Slayer Arcos
[/div][/div][div class=title]Ryan[/div][div class=text]The five days after the kidnapping passed slowly. The people around him, this new group, they were a lot quieter than before, obviously, and their faces were depictions of despair and anger. Quiet was Ryan too and he wore a sullen expression, but he did not share the pain the rest of them felt. To him, this was barely more than a group of strangers, and he had seen too much death and pain in his time. He's grown cold. After that one evening of laughter, it just felt like the same old apocalypse again. He hated to admit it, but with every other group of survivors, he would've left in the first night, taking what he needs and never turning back. And he thought about it every night but he couldn't leave. Because one thing was different and it changed everything. He had found James and he wouldn't leave his side again, unless ... unless he was about to turn. But James was fond of these people, he was happy with them, saw some kind of newfound family in this group. So Ryan had to stay and try to find the same in these people.He knew they were possibly heading towards their death, but turning away wasn't an option. Not this time. So instead of planning how to get out there, Ryan started to prepare for a fight. He used the bottles and the alcohol they had left together with some gasoline they could spare and made himself a couple of makeshift fire bombs. Three to be exact. Not perfect, but they should prove helpful in getting attention. Early on he volunteered to be part of a distraction if need be, hoping to take the bulk fight onto himself and the poor souls that might join him so that James and the others won't have too much to worry about when saving their friends.
There wasn't much more he could do as they followed. He stayed in the back, quiet, there if somebody needed something from him but he left all of them to their sorrow. The only other thing that happened as they followed the raiders' tracks aided by magic was that Penny approached him with a gun in hand asking for some help with it. Ryan wasn't a teacher but he had, with years of practice, enough experience to train her a bit. The time spend with her was a little bit more lighthearted than the rest of the time, spend silent in the back of the group.
After the five days, they finally found the raiders' camp. People began to make a quick plan, but Ryan already knew his place. The only question was if he'd have anybody on his side or not. He'd be the distraction with or without help, trying to take down as many as he could. If he was alone, he might need a better plan, he couldn't take all of them head-on. But with help ... he didn't feel like he could rely on anybody here anyways. And everyone he felt like he could rely on in the slightest ... he didn't want them around in that fight. They were the reason he chose to be the distraction, he wanted them to have it easier to get in and out.
“Alright all, we’ll split for sure. There’s enough of us that we can tackle all of this with enough manpower. Ryan, you take Damian and Rufus down that road… make some noise and keep the raiders away from the shelter. Take Woofus too, or I think he’ll get mad at me for not letting him enjoy anything.” Ryan nodded, Damian and Rufus they've both just joined this group, so he knew them even less. He had barely exchanged a word with them if any. But he was fine with them joining him, he expected nothing of them and only hoped they wouldn't be stupid enough to stab him in the back or get themselves killed. With Woofus on the other hand, he had somebody he could kind of trust. Ryan had established a quick but small friendship with the dog in the short time with this group and the dog was a loyal companion to Penny. At least someone he was sure wouldn't turn on him.
“Give us a signal, something big, and we’ll head in. Good luck you guys...” Ryan was kneeling down, petting Woofus who had been sent over, but he looked up as Penny talked. "I'll do my best. Just, wait for a little longer once the fire breaks out, got it?" He stood up and stretched, then he took off his backpack and made a mental note to come back here to pick it up again. He didn't need to carry around a useless burden on his back when he was going into a fight. He opened the bag up after he put it down and got his other two melee weapons out. A tactical tomahawk and a tactical kukri, weapons he had before the apocalypse had even started and they were still in a good condition. He fastened them on his sides, checked his three molotov cocktails, then picked up his sledgehammer again, crossbow hanging over one of his shoulders. He looked at Damian and Rufus and told them to follow him.
They walked through some woods, rounding the raiders' camp to stay out of sight whilst getting to a favorable position. They were walking side by side quietly, the only sounds around them the winds' weak howl and the snow and leaves crunching under their boots. Ryan's eyes narrowed at Rufus muttering something under his breath but Ryan kept quiet. There was no use for words unless needed right now and the other man would've spoken louder if it had been something he was supposed to hear anyways. So he put his eyes back towards the camp and kept walking, no time for distractions.
The road, they were now close to the camp and at the right position to get started with their plan, but still hidden in the trees. Ryan told the others to stop and get their heads down with a quick hand gesture as he did the same. From there he could look into the camp and decided how to start. He chose to RV's at the camps' edge as his targets, all he had to do before he could get closer to set them ablaze was taking out the lonely guard closeby. Ryan leaned his sledgehammer against a tree next to him and took his crossbow in both his hands, readying a bolt almost mechanically. His eyes were still searching the camp for any other guards in the vicinity, there were none too close to his target.
Ryan took aim, it was a far shot, but he was a good marksman with this thing. And he could help out a little when the projectile was on its way. So he shot and then concentrated on the bolt, not only did he correct his aim to hit the raider's throat he also sped the bolt to make it an even more devastating blow. The man didn't see it coming, fell to his knees and then on his side, only gargling for a few moments. Ryan threw the crossbow back over his shoulder, grabbed his hammer and got running towards the road. He did have a good throwing range with the help of his telekinesis, but it wasn't that good.
Getting close enough he mindlessly threw his hammer to the ground, took the first bottle and lit it up before hurling it at one of the RV's. Flames burst across the vehicle as the bottle shattered. Ryan lit the second one, throwing it at the other RV. Yells came from inside and from different parts of the camp, men rushed out of their vehicles and others started running towards the flames. The distraction was working. Ryan lit up the last molotov and this time tossed it at the first handful of raiders he could see in range.
He didn't stop to watch the flames erupt around them or to listen to surprised screams, instead, he readied his crossbow again, took aim and quickly downed another raider from afar. Another bolt, another man down. This he repeated a few more times before the raiders knew where exactly the attack was coming from. He put the crossbow down to the ground, held out his right hand and pulled in his hammer and then charged towards the enemy. "BRING IT ON, ASSHOLES!"[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div][class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #000000; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]
Beleth
Senior Member
Rufus
[class=textbox]height: 300px;
width: 200px;
background: black;
border: 1px black
position: relative;
[/class]
[div class="pic1" style="height:100%;width:200px;background-image:url(https://steamusercontent-a.akamaihd.net/ugc/831329297498936900/AF5599F90035670422529B24BF5E9C05077A691D/); background-size:100%;background-position:50% 30%;"]
[div class="hoverimg" style="display:none;height:100%;width:200px;background-image:url(https://steamusercontent-a.akamaihd.net/ugc/831329297498936900/AF5599F90035670422529B24BF5E9C05077A691D/);background-size:150%;background-position:50% 30%;"]
[/div]
OOC: To help things flow, I rewinded Rufus' interactions/experiences to try and blend things together. Sorry for any future confusion!
Mentions: Woofus, Penny, Ryan, Allea, Nik, Damian
Location: Bottleneck woods/Raider Camp
BGM: Riot - Three Days Grace
Code by @Beauty_Belle
[/div]
Last edited:
Beleth
Senior Member
Code:
Edana
Location: Raider’s HQ/Jail Cell
Mentions: Reina, Caleb, Elijah, Namrata
OOC: A small bit to keep interactions/story going
Reina & Caleb? Cute. Edana watched as the two interacted with one another. She couldn’t help but wince at the once-before loudly forward male flail and squirm, his head in the female’s lap as he abruptly came to. His face reminded her of her own in this current circumstance. Only the difference was was that Edana intentionally kept her skin ghostly white while Caleb appeared as though he had seen a beheaded phantom swooping his lady crush away. He slowly calmed down as Reina ran tender fingers through Caleb’s hair followed by murmurs of reassurement. Within moments he went from paralyzing startled to a wary return back to reality. The girl’s contact worked wonders with this boy. Ways that Edana was unable to comprehend. Still, she preferred this to cringey pick-up lines in attempts to land a, well, now guaranteed opportunity with the darker female. The exchanges of checking in, consolation and whatnot continued, partnered with intimacy that was best left alone.
Then there was the exchange between Namrata and Elijah. These two seemed like an older bunch, in a sense. Though not necessarily in the physical sense, both of them possessed a wiser, more restrained aura. The group can use this type of role model. As with Caleb and Reina, words had been exchanged in the name of information. Elijah had become Namrata’s sacred source of learning and Namrata’s questions had allowed the time to pass. Though she had not been apart of the conversation directly, the exchange took Edana’s mind off of the horrors that remained within the cell walls.
The goth sat back as both parties continued, knees to her disadvantaged chest, hair serving as some sort of head blanket. Of course, the silence could only last for so long. These Wild One imbeciles would not know peace and fucking human decency if a slaughter house blade smothered them in the face with it. The thought of their suffering greatly amused Edana.
Of course. She had her special list of fuckers she'd much rather see their personal demise to. The goth could not help but feel hot flashes itching at the collar of her dress as the thoughts had grown more intense. Had the jail cell caused her to slowly lose her touch with what was left of her reality? Unlikely. After all, these poor soul-less swines had nothing better coming for them.
The shrilling from before continued. Raiders fled in and out of the scene, rearranging prisoners as a female would aimlessly organize shoes. By the looks of it a particular individual had been leading the entire shitshow. Cobb. It was unfortunate she knew the name of the bastard. Just upon hearing his voice caused the witch to envision all the different methods and tactics of dragging her blade across his greasy, pig-ridden flesh. If she had been outside of these restraints she would have mounted him already, educating him on the varying types of cuts that existed. Big, small, thick, thin, punctures, avulsions, skinning . . . the possibilities were endless! Edana could feel a sense of pleasure at the thought, her head lowered to hide her current fantasizing - ridden expressions. It would only be a matter of time.
Code by @Beauty_Belle
Edana
Location: Raider’s HQ/Jail Cell
Mentions: Reina, Caleb, Elijah, Namrata
OOC: A small bit to keep interactions/story going
Reina & Caleb? Cute. Edana watched as the two interacted with one another. She couldn’t help but wince at the once-before loudly forward male flail and squirm, his head in the female’s lap as he abruptly came to. His face reminded her of her own in this current circumstance. Only the difference was was that Edana intentionally kept her skin ghostly white while Caleb appeared as though he had seen a beheaded phantom swooping his lady crush away. He slowly calmed down as Reina ran tender fingers through Caleb’s hair followed by murmurs of reassurement. Within moments he went from paralyzing startled to a wary return back to reality. The girl’s contact worked wonders with this boy. Ways that Edana was unable to comprehend. Still, she preferred this to cringey pick-up lines in attempts to land a, well, now guaranteed opportunity with the darker female. The exchanges of checking in, consolation and whatnot continued, partnered with intimacy that was best left alone.
Then there was the exchange between Namrata and Elijah. These two seemed like an older bunch, in a sense. Though not necessarily in the physical sense, both of them possessed a wiser, more restrained aura. The group can use this type of role model. As with Caleb and Reina, words had been exchanged in the name of information. Elijah had become Namrata’s sacred source of learning and Namrata’s questions had allowed the time to pass. Though she had not been apart of the conversation directly, the exchange took Edana’s mind off of the horrors that remained within the cell walls.
The goth sat back as both parties continued, knees to her disadvantaged chest, hair serving as some sort of head blanket. Of course, the silence could only last for so long. These Wild One imbeciles would not know peace and fucking human decency if a slaughter house blade smothered them in the face with it. The thought of their suffering greatly amused Edana.
Of course. She had her special list of fuckers she'd much rather see their personal demise to. The goth could not help but feel hot flashes itching at the collar of her dress as the thoughts had grown more intense. Had the jail cell caused her to slowly lose her touch with what was left of her reality? Unlikely. After all, these poor soul-less swines had nothing better coming for them.
The shrilling from before continued. Raiders fled in and out of the scene, rearranging prisoners as a female would aimlessly organize shoes. By the looks of it a particular individual had been leading the entire shitshow. Cobb. It was unfortunate she knew the name of the bastard. Just upon hearing his voice caused the witch to envision all the different methods and tactics of dragging her blade across his greasy, pig-ridden flesh. If she had been outside of these restraints she would have mounted him already, educating him on the varying types of cuts that existed. Big, small, thick, thin, punctures, avulsions, skinning . . . the possibilities were endless! Edana could feel a sense of pleasure at the thought, her head lowered to hide her current fantasizing - ridden expressions. It would only be a matter of time.
Code by @Beauty_Belle
Mirgris
Elder Member
[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]
[/div][/div]
The RV park is being set on fire, alarms are blaring and one man stands in the middle of it all on his own.
He isn't a raider. The full plate armor he wears makes that obvious, though the fact that the raiders are trying to kill him is another big clue. He wasn't afraid, when the alarms went off, fear is temporary and useless. Instead he simply changed his plans accordingly. He gets his back to one of the RVs so that they can only surround him in a semi circle. They do so quickly with chains, tire irons, bats and clubs in their hands.
His voice is harsh and commanding as he yells at them "Run and be spared, or DIE!"
They don't listen, they never do and if he lives he know this battle will weigh on his already tainted soul.
The first man charges with a tire iron. The knight does not hesitate and a spear of darkness forms in his hand, he thrust it at the raider only for it to be blocked by the tire iron. The shadow spear grows a spiked tendril in a flash an impales the skull of the raider killing him. The tendril dissipates but the spear remains.
"He can't get us all at once, Charge him!"
The knight steps one foot forward into an odd martial stance. His left hand takes the shadow spear and swings it in a large arc, protecting one side, at the same time his right hand draws the sword at his hip into a perfect cut, Iadio. He steps forward with the draw cut and decapitates the left most raider. His left hand pulls back grabbing his sword below his right hand. Shadow grows up the blade extending it's reach, and he steps into an over head cut into the second raider. A tire iron blocks the blade, but the shadowy blade that was overlapped with the very real sword pulls free his left hand taking it and stabbing the man through the heart.
However his charge towards the left end of the semi circle left his back exposed. A raider jumps on the knight from behind, wrapping a chain around his neck and starting to pull, attempting to choke. The chains glow red hot from the rough enchantments inscribed on them. It last for only a moment, great spikes of shadow grow from the knights back impaling and killing the man. The distraction was dangerous others, rush in, attempting to dog pile the knight and kill him under weight of numbers. A chain wraps around his left arm, even as a tire iron slams into the armor over his left shoulder.
The knight yanks his left arm towards himself slamming those two men into each other. Which is when a baseball bat breaks over his helmet, and shadow solidified underneath the helmet shatters. He stabs the man for it, but another one grabs his gauntlet and wrist as he does. Even as another hits his sword arms shoulder with a chain. The knight head buts the man grabbing his gauntlet and he drops like a sack of potatoes. Even as he does, another two take his place. A shadow dagger forms in his off hand, but it isn't enough, he is drowning in weight of numbers, surrounded and raiders are attempting to find a hole in his armor or rip it off, even as bats or pry bars are used as clubs. The shadow dagger finds a mans eye and kills him. But he can hardly fight, as he struggles to keep himself standing and keep himself from being pulled down by their numbers.
He stands alone, in need of salvation. However he is afflicted, he expects not salvation to come. It never does.
[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#0A0605; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:2px dashed rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:2px dashed rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:2px dashed rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #0A0605; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dashed white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]
[div class=statusText] Location: East Oak Veterinary Hospital, Vine-land, New Jersey
BGM: Rise
Sheet: Sheet
Interactions:
BELIAL.
Beleth
Dragon Slayer Arcos
Lakyr
[/div]
[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]David Deals Death now with friends?[/div][div class=text]BGM: Rise
Sheet: Sheet
Interactions:
BELIAL.
Beleth
Dragon Slayer Arcos
Lakyr
[/div]
The RV park is being set on fire, alarms are blaring and one man stands in the middle of it all on his own.
He isn't a raider. The full plate armor he wears makes that obvious, though the fact that the raiders are trying to kill him is another big clue. He wasn't afraid, when the alarms went off, fear is temporary and useless. Instead he simply changed his plans accordingly. He gets his back to one of the RVs so that they can only surround him in a semi circle. They do so quickly with chains, tire irons, bats and clubs in their hands.
His voice is harsh and commanding as he yells at them "Run and be spared, or DIE!"
They don't listen, they never do and if he lives he know this battle will weigh on his already tainted soul.
The first man charges with a tire iron. The knight does not hesitate and a spear of darkness forms in his hand, he thrust it at the raider only for it to be blocked by the tire iron. The shadow spear grows a spiked tendril in a flash an impales the skull of the raider killing him. The tendril dissipates but the spear remains.
"He can't get us all at once, Charge him!"
The knight steps one foot forward into an odd martial stance. His left hand takes the shadow spear and swings it in a large arc, protecting one side, at the same time his right hand draws the sword at his hip into a perfect cut, Iadio. He steps forward with the draw cut and decapitates the left most raider. His left hand pulls back grabbing his sword below his right hand. Shadow grows up the blade extending it's reach, and he steps into an over head cut into the second raider. A tire iron blocks the blade, but the shadowy blade that was overlapped with the very real sword pulls free his left hand taking it and stabbing the man through the heart.
However his charge towards the left end of the semi circle left his back exposed. A raider jumps on the knight from behind, wrapping a chain around his neck and starting to pull, attempting to choke. The chains glow red hot from the rough enchantments inscribed on them. It last for only a moment, great spikes of shadow grow from the knights back impaling and killing the man. The distraction was dangerous others, rush in, attempting to dog pile the knight and kill him under weight of numbers. A chain wraps around his left arm, even as a tire iron slams into the armor over his left shoulder.
The knight yanks his left arm towards himself slamming those two men into each other. Which is when a baseball bat breaks over his helmet, and shadow solidified underneath the helmet shatters. He stabs the man for it, but another one grabs his gauntlet and wrist as he does. Even as another hits his sword arms shoulder with a chain. The knight head buts the man grabbing his gauntlet and he drops like a sack of potatoes. Even as he does, another two take his place. A shadow dagger forms in his off hand, but it isn't enough, he is drowning in weight of numbers, surrounded and raiders are attempting to find a hole in his armor or rip it off, even as bats or pry bars are used as clubs. The shadow dagger finds a mans eye and kills him. But he can hardly fight, as he struggles to keep himself standing and keep himself from being pulled down by their numbers.
He stands alone, in need of salvation. However he is afflicted, he expects not salvation to come. It never does.
[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#0A0605; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:2px dashed rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:2px dashed rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:2px dashed rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #0A0605; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dashed white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]
Last edited by a moderator:
BasiliskVeranda
80s Trash
[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100;
display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%;
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[class=whut]background: url(https://picjumbo.com/wp-content/uploads/dark-fog-over-woods_free_stock_photos_picjumbo_DSC02705-2210x1473.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; background-attachment: fixed; padding:30px;
[/class]
[class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:20px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1;
border: 2px solid #243381;
outline: 2px solid #000;
font-weight:400;
font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;
font-size:13px;
[/class]
[class=speaks]
overflow: auto;
padding-left: 20px;
padding-right: 20px;
padding-bottom: 20px;
flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%;
margin-left: 40px;
margin-right:15px;
[/class]
[class=speakstoo]
font-size:13px;
text-align: left;
font-weight:100;
background-color: #fff;
color: #000;
line-height:2;
font-weight:400;
font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;
padding:30px;
max-height:900px;
overflow: auto;
[/class]
[class=speakeasy]
font-weight:400;
font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;
border: 1px solid #fff;
outline: 2px solid #000; box-sizing: border-box;
letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; background:#221b1c;[/class]
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margin-top: 50px;
clear:both;
font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;
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outline: 2px solid #000;
box-sizing: border-box;
text-align: center; font-size:16px; padding:20px; color: #f1263e; background:#221b1c; line-height:2; width:100%;
[/class]
[class=tops]
font-weight:400;
margin-bottom: 50px;
clear:both;
font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;
border: 1px solid #fff;
outline: 2px solid #000;
box-sizing: border-box;
text-align: center; font-size:16px; padding:20px; color: #f1263e; background:#221b1c; line-height:2; width:100%;
[/class]
[class=speakeasy2]
font-weight:400;
font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;
border: 1px solid #fff;
outline: 2px solid #000;
box-sizing: border-box;
text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; background:#221b1c; line-height:2;
[/class]
[class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class]
[class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class]
[class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class]
[class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]
𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — East Oak Veterinary Hospital, Vineland, New Jersey
TAGS:
BELIAL.
(Always Smarter),
Hell0NHighWater
(Cryptic Mystic),
Dear Mrs. Psycho
(Helpful Witch),
Lakyr
(A Real Hero)
>
MENTIONS:
thefinalgirl
(Kindness Will Be Remembered)
LET'S GO GIRLS: Amara & Penny
BGM — GARBAGE - PUSH IT
FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT — HOLE - VIOLET
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks][div class=tops] ⛧ ⛧ ⛧[/div][div class=speakstoo]The scarf had found itself unwound and draped over his shoulder, for a specific purpose. Itching to hitch forward and demolish all that stood in his wake, he'd use every available tool to enact justice. The eventual slaughter was what he considered this to be. Vengeance, justice, absolution. For what was taken, sifting out from his hands like pale sand, he couldn't catch the little bits between the creases in his skin. No more, and he wouldn't let this happen again.
Never again.
"Aw sha, there's no need ta thank me, Charmer, I wish ya the best of luck findin' that boy of yours in one piece." Allea's pet name for him was something he was unsure about. If she was either using it sarcastically, or meant it in endearment, he didn't know. Either way, he enjoyed being called something other than 'asshole'. However, being called a term of endearment or being prodded with a phrase engendered in him other phrases. Blondie. And the one he liked using most, the phrase cutting in the corners of his teeth at the moment; Princess.
"I'll find him in one piece. If he isn't, others will be worse off than what they could possibly imagine," he offered, taking out a cigarette to crush it between his teeth. The red-orange light on the end of it like a burning marker on a map, wielding in the low light of the coming darkness. Their cover, his cover, a gentle kiss and then a downpour of nothing. He did well in the dark, in more ways than one.
"Either way," he stopped to breathe out graying smoke, the anger on his face breaking in the smallest fraction of an expression, "they'll regret stealing from us," he fettered out his words in a sharp, low clip. Like a rudder lapping hard against the back of a boat, deep in the chest, a hitch. What he really meant to say, what he was provoked to say, was they'll regret stealing from me. But he didn't.
Directed at no one, his look was hellfire, but barely kept beneath the surface. Pulled back every few moments. The lake was breaching, it'd defy description shortly. Unbridled bloodlust that would've blanched men and women of steel fortitude, he would swarm their enemies. And he'd love every second of it.
"If what I seen ain't truth then you ain't got nothin' to worry bout besides a boo-coo of scrambled eggs." He didn't quite know what this meant, what she had fully seen, and he let her know this with eyes narrowed beneath strong brows. He didn't yet trust her. She was self-serving, he felt. Then again, one could never judge a book by its cover. Surely he was given a long leash and was trusted far too much, for what he knew lay beneath his skin, thrumming black in his veins. Sick, it had gotten in too deep, and possibly too early.
Always in the back of his skull, digging in its fingers, asking to be set free. He wouldn't have to lock it up for much longer.
“You’re the best at whining, hands down,” Penny offered her joke, trying to bring a bit of levity. He smirked, smoke twirling into the air and up into nothingness, the darkness closing down around them. Twilight blues and stars dotted the horizon as the sun crept beneath the line of the earth and fell to sleep, warm reds giving way to purple smears in the sky. It'd have been beautiful, with the snowy landscape framing the dying light, if he hadn't been so hell-bent on carnage.
His mind swirled with it, mental movies of just what he'd do when he got his hands on someone who had wronged them, and by extension, wronged him. Morbid beauties and fascinations cropped up in little visions, he chewed his lip as his eyes grew distant. Trying to snap to the reality in front of him, but so far away, viewing these monstrosities with excitement and necessity. Justice, vengeance, absolution.
"At least I'm not the King of Brood," he said under his breath, a smile creeping on his face, then dying in an instant.
“Alright all, we’ll split for sure. There’s enough of us that we can tackle all of this with enough manpower. Ryan, you take Damian and Rufus down that road… make some noise and keep the raiders away from the shelter. Take Woofus too, or I think he’ll get mad at me for not letting him enjoy anything.” Woofus barked at this, supposedly eager to take point and contribute. He gave the canine a wink, who, as strange as it was, wasn't averting his gaze or walking around him like he was radioactive.
"You got this, Woofus. Make sure the boys don't fuck it up, we're counting on you," he said, only half joking. It wasn't that he didn't trust them to do their part, hardly. He just trusted Woofus to keep them alive, he didn't need any more allies dead or gone. He thought for the briefest of moments on the silver-haired witch, their absent military-issue Action Jackson and his flock, the fire-wielding healer, the absent little munchkin Haruka who he hadn't seen in all this, and Ezra who...he was unsure of what happened to.
So many lost already, lost or gone or dead, and hated it.
In the fraction of a moment, Allea was seized by something, falling into herself and to the ground. Fresh snow and dirt to roughly catch her fall, he lurched forward but Penny was already on the case. As she always was, the first to help, the first one to rescue, the first to save. Nik worried she'd eventually fling herself upon a sword for the sake of others for how much compassion she held in her soul.
He wouldn't let that happened.
"Is she alr—" Soon she was up again, Penny locking eyes with him and the others, concern washing over her features.
“Artworks are not to be built in blood and bone, the angel of justice will bring him home, the Lich, that ugly spell-caster tome, holds the center of that demonic monolith where no mortal should roam,” Allea's words were like a fount, in rhyme, that defied any context. Nik let his hands fall to his side, cigarette bristling the red little dot into the air, swishing like a beacon as he pressed it between his fingers, and back again, holding it like a blunt.
More cryptic shit he didn't understand. He was feeling more like an idiot with every passing moment.
Penny met his gaze and he nodded, a quick look that spelled I heard it, I don't understand, let's just get on with it. Their speech could lack words, and they'd still understand what the other meant. Always, connected in that, unspoken language in touch and gestures. Perfect for cohesion, perfect for action. Saying nothing, and saying everything.
“Alright, uhm… right, so…. First group good for distraction and damage control? Everyone else? We’re going in. Once sufficient chaos is raised, we’ll head in. Keep low and watch each other’s back. We’re gonna need everyone for the end game.”
"Amara, if you've got any aces up your sleeve, the time to use them is fuckin' now. Let's get your brother back, and give these fuckers hell, hmm?" he said, reassuringly, but it was mild, paired with a wink. He was trying. Nik couldn't entertain anything right now except for the shrill screaming violence inside of him. To get back what had been taken, who had been taken. And to kill anything that stood in his way.
For a moment his mind blanked, closing his eyes, fist clenching as he breathed in. His thoughts rumbled in a torrent of feelings and sensations, bitten lips, bruising fingers, stitching a wound singing ancient songs, laughter, flirtations, a bottle of alcohol held hostage, a kind girl who cared so much for being so new to their little group, each and every positive and negative interaction with the ones who had been lifted from them.
He wanted more of them, these little movies of touch, thought, words and experience. He'd stop at nothing to get them back.
Eyes opening, the cigarette was ashed on his shirt sleeve and placed away in the box in his back pocket. He'd save it for later.
“Let’s start this party. Give us a signal, something big, and we’ll head in. Good luck you guys...” Penny raised up her pistol and took to his side, Nik pulled his blades from their haphazard holsters, gazing on the sharp edge of the one in his right hand. He flipped it in his grasp, it spun like a whirled top, and landed back the same as he had thrown it.
"I'll do my best. Just, wait for a little longer once the fire breaks out, got it?" Ryan said, surprisingly taking point, but he appreciated it.
"They've got this," he said with a nod in Ryan's direction, eyes trailing to the others, lingering on the cockney brit for half a moment. He smiled, warm, a brushstroke not so encroached on by his rage. Trying to reassure him that this would be fine, they'd all be fine. And if they weren't, there'd be worse hell to pay than what the devil below could ever bring anyone.
This he made a fact, a promise. He could get very creative with his torture, and only Penny knew this. He was glad for that, they didn't need to know just how rotten he was.
“We’re going in Nik. We’re getting our people back. Rhys too,” Penny reached for his hand to give it a squeeze, he returned it in kind, linking fingers with her. Thumb smoothing over her palm, as he held their hand up, tracing her skin. She was warm. He let his fingers fall in to link with her's again, and he gave her a smile. Small at first, then it spread into a grin, looking over her face in kindness, softness, gratitude.
"I know we will."
Then it grew into a half-smile, almost like he had found a joke in all the hardship. He curled her to his body despite her offensive posture with her new pistol, and placed a few kisses into her hair, and a nuzzle. Then, he was away, a blast of flames signaling that their other team had done their job.
Then a wicked smile split up his face, and it stuck, despite his desire for warmth and camaraderie. He couldn't hold back anymore, his eyes dancing with the impulse to destroy everything that had wronged them. It was sweet, he could taste it in his mouth and the back of his throat. It fluttered his chest into the frenetic beating of a hummingbird's wing, soaked in blood.
"Rambo Barbie, Sorceress Skipper—let's fuck shit up, " he said, tearing away from Penny as he saw the sky light up in a broiling fire, licks of smoke creeping on the edges of this amethyst canvas of night.
He was not subtle. He would not sneak. Sneaking would do no good, they'd be found anyways, and he couldn't stop himself from barreling in like a bat out of hell. He just couldn't stop.
If they had wanted him to be crafty, to sneak, they shouldn't have. He was better at providing a distraction, a poor move on their part. Penny would have to have known this. She'd have to, for if she didn't, then this was a mark of her mistake in thinking he could control this.
She had seen his nightmare. Letting him get this close to the ones he cared for, with bodies as obstacles in his path, meant he wouldn't be able to hold back.
A raider sauntered around the corner with a shotgun, not hearing him yet, and the blond—not being a fan of firearms—jacked it into the air with his fist on the barrel and drew back his other fist. Time slowed, his mind sped up, a slick grin twisting his handsome face into something the devil would like to gaze upon in appreciation.
He struck out his squared fist into the raider's face, over and over again, bones crunching, nose broken, then kicked the man's leg out from under him. Blades raised high into the air, he slammed down into the kneeling man's throat to gargle a river of blood, and he was on to the next one who heard the mute cry of his comrade.
Nik was, actually, trying to be...tactful. But once one body fell, it was all chaos from therein out.
He could be his own distraction, for Amara and Penny to help get the others free.
These bastards seemed to like chains an awful lot, for whatever reason, but they were also apparently stupid as bucket of apples. A chain lashed out at him, guttural war cries resounding through the halls, the chain wrapping around his throat. He liked chains, they were...very stupid.
This wouldn't bode well for his attackers.
"Caught you, you little shi—"
"Please," This was a fun game. He hoped his enemy at this moment would play along. He was probably too stupid for that, sadly.
"Hah hah," the raider belted out, a sneer on his face, "He's begging, the fuck—" Nik's hands came up to his throat, a look of mock pain splaying his face like the most brilliant of paintings. It was insulting, that deep indigo-tinged gaze, insulting because it begged to be smacked off his face. That shit-eating grin.
"...continue..." he choked out, realizing this man wouldn't play his games as a confused look washed over his unwashed face. That was a pity, because it was so fun when they tried instead of pantomiming the violence.
"No? That's...all you—" Nik's face was pink, his fingers taut, but nothing but composed. That half-smile spread as the raider tried to pull back further, cutting off his airflow. Then, Nik was as nothing. He was twilight, a smear of oil paint ripping in a cloud, of charcoal, and ash, and the worst of man, the deepest, darkest nothing, so dark it ate the very light.
A sweep of a black shadow, on the raider like the demon he truly was, "fucking got?!" his sentence was punctuated by his blade peeling through the man's eye socket, ripping it clean from his face with a sickening rip. It cast out into the air and rolled onto the linoleum tiles, blood on the part-time devil's face, like a masterwork in carnage.
"Boring, fucking boring, and all this...taking them, from me. Taking what is mine, and not fucking your's, like little fucking ants crawling into my house and fucking taking my shit," he bellowed, too much. He swore he saw either Penny or Amara, or both, rush past him. Resolute that they'd get the job done as he drew more to him like moths to a blackened flame that would swallow them each whole.
A gaggle of three raiders came at him with guns. He stood from his position, the red on his face painting him manic, eyes wild, the blue in them as deep as a black hole, he sucked all the air out of the area with one vibrating scream of a glare, the white of his eyes wide.
The corner of his mouth twitched, the smile again, half, and then whole and razored. He loved it almost as much as he loved heated conversations with the whitelighter and the bruises on his neck thereafter. Almost, but this was pale in comparison, a shadow of that thrum.
A cheap imitation, but even fake drugs could feel good for a moment.
They stared, then one of them got the bright idea to stab at him instead of shooting him. The raider smiled, as if he had already one, teeth sharp. The attack, Nik half-entertained, the knife launching to shift into his gut but only clearing a bit of meat. He hadn't bothered to stop it, because darkness swirled from the very corners of the walls and ripped the attackers down, throats clasped hard in strands of living shadows that writhed and pulsed.
"This is how you play this fucking game. You're all trash at it," he hissed, flinging one of his blades into the air and catching it as he had before, roaring up to spear one of the wastes of oxygen in the temple, slamming the other blade down at the same time to tear through one of their faces. Carving a smile, which he continued to carve as he ripped his blade clean from the other's skull, digging his other blade beneath this shit's teeth as the raider growled and screeched.
The third one, his face was blister-red like a pustule about to pop. Nik was loud. This was too far, too much, too soon.
He was making a great deal of commotion, hoping in the back of his mind that all the chaos he was causing would let the girls flank through. There was no way to be subtle when he was around. Best to use it to their advantage.
"This is how you play, if you're not going to take this," he was going too far, "fucking seriously," Nik boiled, his words sharp and jagged, "then we'll make it a joke," the bindings of his shadows wrenched further, his heart beating in his chest so hard he could hear it, it felt intoxicating,"It's a joke. Here, let's have a smile, it's a joke, we're playing, aren't we?" his words cut together like a broken vase, crisp on the edges and smashed together as if by nuclear heat.
He dragged that blade into the meat of the man's cheek, his scream dying in a pool of blood before it even left his throat. The one at the end passed out, dragged back by the shadow, then Nik jerked his chin back and it snapped his neck.
Moving on from this, shoulders hunched, he stalked. Stuck in this now, prowling the halls, whatever forces they had guarding the prisoners on alert and on him, like a slinking dark apex predator who wanted to eat and fuck and destroy, everything.
He even used his plaid scarf to strangle one of the shits to his knees, from behind, a satyr, a creature bent on this and loving it, and never wanting it to end. Eyes wild and gone, he wrenched the asshole's mouth open with his blade, staring down at him as he brought him to kneel. Kneeling with him, the other man's head jerked back, blade slinking between his teeth as he struggled his mouth against it, lips cracked open.
"Come on, I've had bigger, just," he hissed into the raider's ear, "take it like a good boy," he seethed as he tore up the inside of his mouth, cutting into his tongue as the raider spit and slobbered blood and bile.
"...bad at this. Bad, boring...not serious...and you took from me, you took from me, and you can't even—fucking—do this right," he rumbled, ending it by flinging free his blade and puncturing the man's throat at the side. His artery spurted blood out into the air, coating the wall and ground, running in a river.
He was too far, as always, going too far. And this time, no Diana to pull him back, no little 'pocket ghost' to grasp at his shoulder to talk him down. Like that manic high that tipped you too far from joy and into hysteria, it became dangerous, he would be a danger to himself and to others.
That is, if he couldn't talk himself down from it, which was still an option. He was still in there, somewhere, behind the murderous intent. Still within his skin, begging him to find the others, even as he tore down more. Tore them down like slicing through canvas with an x-acto blade, it was nothing.
They were warm bodies, not the brains of this operation, just the numbers. Numbers that with each body felled he grew more enamored by the feeling. It was heaven.
It was wrong.
He wanted it all, all at once, all of this, he wanted the brunt of their forces. Up his arms, flesh against him, blood in his mouth, digits curled in his hair—stop.
Stop. Stop. Now, stop.
Nik's breathing was ragged, the mass of their forces across the river taken care of (he hoped), but here, he drew the ones that stomped on linoleum and peeled out cries with guns and deft, blunt weapons. The blond clutched his head, veins inkling black up to his cheek, a spire to his temple. Too much, too fast, too much. Like an impending overdose, he knew it was there if he pushed too far. He needed it, he wanted it...he wanted...them back.
"Stop," he said to himself, under his breath, breathe hitching in waves as he tried to calm down. But they had taken members of his family. They had taken their supplies. They had taken him.
"...enough. What would he think, seeing you...carving up a path just for the...fucking fun of it?" he asked himself, inaudible, harrowing his breathing as he screwed his eyes shut. A raider peeled around him, the blond's hand still clutching his head, the other hand grasping his blades loosely, expertly placed between his fingers by the handles.
He nearly dropped them, but the knock upside his head with a flat board shifted his focus as it dazed him, and like the dance that lived in his bones, he struck out with both blades in a line across the raider's eyes.
Hands switched almost instantly to curl both blades in either hand, blood cast off like red acrylic in the air, heavy and thick.
The raider screamed out, clutching the gouged flesh as he fell to his knees.
Nik launched forward on fleet feet thudding the linoleum, and whirled past to make it to the prisoners, but was stopped by more men with guns. The side of his head ached, splintered wood into his skin, a concussion he wasn't entertaining. His own blood trickling down the side of his temple. His neck was cased in a ring of bruises, pocked from the chain, raw and red. The wound in his gut spread, but it wasn't deep enough to slow him down. In fact, if he had been limbless and blind, he bet it wouldn't have been enough, even then.
He liked pain. He ignored it. The wounds would catch up to him later.
"Sneaking isn't my strong suit, so here I am, and it's not going to be pretty," he yelled out, loud enough for the prisoners to hear him because his roar echoed across the walls like a death-promising warcry. He hoped Penny would make a bee-line to release them, or Amara would provide cover while he dealt with these fuckers.
"Go!" he shouted at the two women, catching them from his peripheral vision as he painted the walls and floors with scarlet blood. It felt amazing, and for a fraction of a moment, he quite simply forgot he was here for some other reason than to kill everything that came across his path.
He didn't know what was on the horizon for them when they'd try to finally steal back those taken from them, but at this point he was enraged again and fully ready to dig into the fray, blood across the walls, on his face, up his arms, even if he became a fucking stump without limbs. He'd keep carving a path like a fault line of destruction.
Little did Nik know, the wild, feral cretins' leader was alerted, and would soon join the fray as they tried to release their comrades from their prison. Laslo knew a distraction when he saw one, he wasn't quite as stupid as his forces.
But Nik was forgetting. He was forgetting in small slivers of an instance, and then, the beat of his heart and the nickname of Blondie in his ears rang true, and he moved. Moved with the women, moved with feet on tiles, moved fast, moved to find a way to the prisoners, not catching either of their gazes, for fear.
For the fear they'd both see this, this thing he was, and Penny would look at him like he was back again in his nightmare, his lush dream, his dream he hated and loved and wanted and feared.
Fuck hell, fuck the devil, and fuck this thing had made him act before thinking and kill without real reason, and want it, and crave, and forget.
Forget Alaska's voice, forget, and then remember. Remember, and hate himself, and forget.
He'd never be free of this disease.
[/div][div class=bottoms] 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵. [/div]
[/div][/div]
[/div]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]
𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — East Oak Veterinary Hospital, Vineland, New Jersey
TAGS:
BELIAL.
(Always Smarter),
Hell0NHighWater
(Cryptic Mystic),
Dear Mrs. Psycho
(Helpful Witch),
Lakyr
(A Real Hero)>
MENTIONS:
thefinalgirl
(Kindness Will Be Remembered) LET'S GO GIRLS: Amara & Penny
BGM — GARBAGE - PUSH IT
FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT — HOLE - VIOLET
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks][div class=tops] ⛧ ⛧ ⛧[/div][div class=speakstoo]The scarf had found itself unwound and draped over his shoulder, for a specific purpose. Itching to hitch forward and demolish all that stood in his wake, he'd use every available tool to enact justice. The eventual slaughter was what he considered this to be. Vengeance, justice, absolution. For what was taken, sifting out from his hands like pale sand, he couldn't catch the little bits between the creases in his skin. No more, and he wouldn't let this happen again.
Never again.
"Aw sha, there's no need ta thank me, Charmer, I wish ya the best of luck findin' that boy of yours in one piece." Allea's pet name for him was something he was unsure about. If she was either using it sarcastically, or meant it in endearment, he didn't know. Either way, he enjoyed being called something other than 'asshole'. However, being called a term of endearment or being prodded with a phrase engendered in him other phrases. Blondie. And the one he liked using most, the phrase cutting in the corners of his teeth at the moment; Princess.
"I'll find him in one piece. If he isn't, others will be worse off than what they could possibly imagine," he offered, taking out a cigarette to crush it between his teeth. The red-orange light on the end of it like a burning marker on a map, wielding in the low light of the coming darkness. Their cover, his cover, a gentle kiss and then a downpour of nothing. He did well in the dark, in more ways than one.
"Either way," he stopped to breathe out graying smoke, the anger on his face breaking in the smallest fraction of an expression, "they'll regret stealing from us," he fettered out his words in a sharp, low clip. Like a rudder lapping hard against the back of a boat, deep in the chest, a hitch. What he really meant to say, what he was provoked to say, was they'll regret stealing from me. But he didn't.
Directed at no one, his look was hellfire, but barely kept beneath the surface. Pulled back every few moments. The lake was breaching, it'd defy description shortly. Unbridled bloodlust that would've blanched men and women of steel fortitude, he would swarm their enemies. And he'd love every second of it.
"If what I seen ain't truth then you ain't got nothin' to worry bout besides a boo-coo of scrambled eggs." He didn't quite know what this meant, what she had fully seen, and he let her know this with eyes narrowed beneath strong brows. He didn't yet trust her. She was self-serving, he felt. Then again, one could never judge a book by its cover. Surely he was given a long leash and was trusted far too much, for what he knew lay beneath his skin, thrumming black in his veins. Sick, it had gotten in too deep, and possibly too early.
Always in the back of his skull, digging in its fingers, asking to be set free. He wouldn't have to lock it up for much longer.
⛧ ⛧ ⛧
“Would you like a pistol? It’s fully loaded and I can spare you some ammo.” He hadn't expected so many newcomers, and nor had he expected them to be so giving. They had absolutely no reason to help. This was not their fight. Well, many of them. Amara had skin in the game, as did Allea, that he knew specifically. But Simjang didn't seem to have loss in this, or any cards she needed to reclaim. His brow raised when Penny took the weapon from her, and he gave her a gentle nod, recognizing her willingness to help his light in the dark.
“You’re the best at whining, hands down,” Penny offered her joke, trying to bring a bit of levity. He smirked, smoke twirling into the air and up into nothingness, the darkness closing down around them. Twilight blues and stars dotted the horizon as the sun crept beneath the line of the earth and fell to sleep, warm reds giving way to purple smears in the sky. It'd have been beautiful, with the snowy landscape framing the dying light, if he hadn't been so hell-bent on carnage.
His mind swirled with it, mental movies of just what he'd do when he got his hands on someone who had wronged them, and by extension, wronged him. Morbid beauties and fascinations cropped up in little visions, he chewed his lip as his eyes grew distant. Trying to snap to the reality in front of him, but so far away, viewing these monstrosities with excitement and necessity. Justice, vengeance, absolution.
"At least I'm not the King of Brood," he said under his breath, a smile creeping on his face, then dying in an instant.
“Alright all, we’ll split for sure. There’s enough of us that we can tackle all of this with enough manpower. Ryan, you take Damian and Rufus down that road… make some noise and keep the raiders away from the shelter. Take Woofus too, or I think he’ll get mad at me for not letting him enjoy anything.” Woofus barked at this, supposedly eager to take point and contribute. He gave the canine a wink, who, as strange as it was, wasn't averting his gaze or walking around him like he was radioactive.
"You got this, Woofus. Make sure the boys don't fuck it up, we're counting on you," he said, only half joking. It wasn't that he didn't trust them to do their part, hardly. He just trusted Woofus to keep them alive, he didn't need any more allies dead or gone. He thought for the briefest of moments on the silver-haired witch, their absent military-issue Action Jackson and his flock, the fire-wielding healer, the absent little munchkin Haruka who he hadn't seen in all this, and Ezra who...he was unsure of what happened to.
So many lost already, lost or gone or dead, and hated it.
In the fraction of a moment, Allea was seized by something, falling into herself and to the ground. Fresh snow and dirt to roughly catch her fall, he lurched forward but Penny was already on the case. As she always was, the first to help, the first one to rescue, the first to save. Nik worried she'd eventually fling herself upon a sword for the sake of others for how much compassion she held in her soul.
He wouldn't let that happened.
"Is she alr—" Soon she was up again, Penny locking eyes with him and the others, concern washing over her features.
“Artworks are not to be built in blood and bone, the angel of justice will bring him home, the Lich, that ugly spell-caster tome, holds the center of that demonic monolith where no mortal should roam,” Allea's words were like a fount, in rhyme, that defied any context. Nik let his hands fall to his side, cigarette bristling the red little dot into the air, swishing like a beacon as he pressed it between his fingers, and back again, holding it like a blunt.
More cryptic shit he didn't understand. He was feeling more like an idiot with every passing moment.
Penny met his gaze and he nodded, a quick look that spelled I heard it, I don't understand, let's just get on with it. Their speech could lack words, and they'd still understand what the other meant. Always, connected in that, unspoken language in touch and gestures. Perfect for cohesion, perfect for action. Saying nothing, and saying everything.
“Alright, uhm… right, so…. First group good for distraction and damage control? Everyone else? We’re going in. Once sufficient chaos is raised, we’ll head in. Keep low and watch each other’s back. We’re gonna need everyone for the end game.”
"Amara, if you've got any aces up your sleeve, the time to use them is fuckin' now. Let's get your brother back, and give these fuckers hell, hmm?" he said, reassuringly, but it was mild, paired with a wink. He was trying. Nik couldn't entertain anything right now except for the shrill screaming violence inside of him. To get back what had been taken, who had been taken. And to kill anything that stood in his way.
For a moment his mind blanked, closing his eyes, fist clenching as he breathed in. His thoughts rumbled in a torrent of feelings and sensations, bitten lips, bruising fingers, stitching a wound singing ancient songs, laughter, flirtations, a bottle of alcohol held hostage, a kind girl who cared so much for being so new to their little group, each and every positive and negative interaction with the ones who had been lifted from them.
He wanted more of them, these little movies of touch, thought, words and experience. He'd stop at nothing to get them back.
Eyes opening, the cigarette was ashed on his shirt sleeve and placed away in the box in his back pocket. He'd save it for later.
“Let’s start this party. Give us a signal, something big, and we’ll head in. Good luck you guys...” Penny raised up her pistol and took to his side, Nik pulled his blades from their haphazard holsters, gazing on the sharp edge of the one in his right hand. He flipped it in his grasp, it spun like a whirled top, and landed back the same as he had thrown it.
"I'll do my best. Just, wait for a little longer once the fire breaks out, got it?" Ryan said, surprisingly taking point, but he appreciated it.
"They've got this," he said with a nod in Ryan's direction, eyes trailing to the others, lingering on the cockney brit for half a moment. He smiled, warm, a brushstroke not so encroached on by his rage. Trying to reassure him that this would be fine, they'd all be fine. And if they weren't, there'd be worse hell to pay than what the devil below could ever bring anyone.
This he made a fact, a promise. He could get very creative with his torture, and only Penny knew this. He was glad for that, they didn't need to know just how rotten he was.
“We’re going in Nik. We’re getting our people back. Rhys too,” Penny reached for his hand to give it a squeeze, he returned it in kind, linking fingers with her. Thumb smoothing over her palm, as he held their hand up, tracing her skin. She was warm. He let his fingers fall in to link with her's again, and he gave her a smile. Small at first, then it spread into a grin, looking over her face in kindness, softness, gratitude.
"I know we will."
Then it grew into a half-smile, almost like he had found a joke in all the hardship. He curled her to his body despite her offensive posture with her new pistol, and placed a few kisses into her hair, and a nuzzle. Then, he was away, a blast of flames signaling that their other team had done their job.
Then a wicked smile split up his face, and it stuck, despite his desire for warmth and camaraderie. He couldn't hold back anymore, his eyes dancing with the impulse to destroy everything that had wronged them. It was sweet, he could taste it in his mouth and the back of his throat. It fluttered his chest into the frenetic beating of a hummingbird's wing, soaked in blood.
"Rambo Barbie, Sorceress Skipper—let's fuck shit up, " he said, tearing away from Penny as he saw the sky light up in a broiling fire, licks of smoke creeping on the edges of this amethyst canvas of night.
⛧ ⛧ ⛧
Nik was at his best, and worse, when embracing the beauty of violence. It was an art, brushstrokes casting crimson blood into the air, as if in a dance. He was a very good dancer, a very good muse of tragedy, whirling on fleet feet that didn't seem to quit.
He was not subtle. He would not sneak. Sneaking would do no good, they'd be found anyways, and he couldn't stop himself from barreling in like a bat out of hell. He just couldn't stop.
If they had wanted him to be crafty, to sneak, they shouldn't have. He was better at providing a distraction, a poor move on their part. Penny would have to have known this. She'd have to, for if she didn't, then this was a mark of her mistake in thinking he could control this.
She had seen his nightmare. Letting him get this close to the ones he cared for, with bodies as obstacles in his path, meant he wouldn't be able to hold back.
A raider sauntered around the corner with a shotgun, not hearing him yet, and the blond—not being a fan of firearms—jacked it into the air with his fist on the barrel and drew back his other fist. Time slowed, his mind sped up, a slick grin twisting his handsome face into something the devil would like to gaze upon in appreciation.
He struck out his squared fist into the raider's face, over and over again, bones crunching, nose broken, then kicked the man's leg out from under him. Blades raised high into the air, he slammed down into the kneeling man's throat to gargle a river of blood, and he was on to the next one who heard the mute cry of his comrade.
Nik was, actually, trying to be...tactful. But once one body fell, it was all chaos from therein out.
He could be his own distraction, for Amara and Penny to help get the others free.
These bastards seemed to like chains an awful lot, for whatever reason, but they were also apparently stupid as bucket of apples. A chain lashed out at him, guttural war cries resounding through the halls, the chain wrapping around his throat. He liked chains, they were...very stupid.
This wouldn't bode well for his attackers.
"Caught you, you little shi—"
"Please," This was a fun game. He hoped his enemy at this moment would play along. He was probably too stupid for that, sadly.
"Hah hah," the raider belted out, a sneer on his face, "He's begging, the fuck—" Nik's hands came up to his throat, a look of mock pain splaying his face like the most brilliant of paintings. It was insulting, that deep indigo-tinged gaze, insulting because it begged to be smacked off his face. That shit-eating grin.
"...continue..." he choked out, realizing this man wouldn't play his games as a confused look washed over his unwashed face. That was a pity, because it was so fun when they tried instead of pantomiming the violence.
"No? That's...all you—" Nik's face was pink, his fingers taut, but nothing but composed. That half-smile spread as the raider tried to pull back further, cutting off his airflow. Then, Nik was as nothing. He was twilight, a smear of oil paint ripping in a cloud, of charcoal, and ash, and the worst of man, the deepest, darkest nothing, so dark it ate the very light.
A sweep of a black shadow, on the raider like the demon he truly was, "fucking got?!" his sentence was punctuated by his blade peeling through the man's eye socket, ripping it clean from his face with a sickening rip. It cast out into the air and rolled onto the linoleum tiles, blood on the part-time devil's face, like a masterwork in carnage.
"Boring, fucking boring, and all this...taking them, from me. Taking what is mine, and not fucking your's, like little fucking ants crawling into my house and fucking taking my shit," he bellowed, too much. He swore he saw either Penny or Amara, or both, rush past him. Resolute that they'd get the job done as he drew more to him like moths to a blackened flame that would swallow them each whole.
A gaggle of three raiders came at him with guns. He stood from his position, the red on his face painting him manic, eyes wild, the blue in them as deep as a black hole, he sucked all the air out of the area with one vibrating scream of a glare, the white of his eyes wide.
The corner of his mouth twitched, the smile again, half, and then whole and razored. He loved it almost as much as he loved heated conversations with the whitelighter and the bruises on his neck thereafter. Almost, but this was pale in comparison, a shadow of that thrum.
A cheap imitation, but even fake drugs could feel good for a moment.
They stared, then one of them got the bright idea to stab at him instead of shooting him. The raider smiled, as if he had already one, teeth sharp. The attack, Nik half-entertained, the knife launching to shift into his gut but only clearing a bit of meat. He hadn't bothered to stop it, because darkness swirled from the very corners of the walls and ripped the attackers down, throats clasped hard in strands of living shadows that writhed and pulsed.
"This is how you play this fucking game. You're all trash at it," he hissed, flinging one of his blades into the air and catching it as he had before, roaring up to spear one of the wastes of oxygen in the temple, slamming the other blade down at the same time to tear through one of their faces. Carving a smile, which he continued to carve as he ripped his blade clean from the other's skull, digging his other blade beneath this shit's teeth as the raider growled and screeched.
The third one, his face was blister-red like a pustule about to pop. Nik was loud. This was too far, too much, too soon.
He was making a great deal of commotion, hoping in the back of his mind that all the chaos he was causing would let the girls flank through. There was no way to be subtle when he was around. Best to use it to their advantage.
"This is how you play, if you're not going to take this," he was going too far, "fucking seriously," Nik boiled, his words sharp and jagged, "then we'll make it a joke," the bindings of his shadows wrenched further, his heart beating in his chest so hard he could hear it, it felt intoxicating,"It's a joke. Here, let's have a smile, it's a joke, we're playing, aren't we?" his words cut together like a broken vase, crisp on the edges and smashed together as if by nuclear heat.
He dragged that blade into the meat of the man's cheek, his scream dying in a pool of blood before it even left his throat. The one at the end passed out, dragged back by the shadow, then Nik jerked his chin back and it snapped his neck.
Moving on from this, shoulders hunched, he stalked. Stuck in this now, prowling the halls, whatever forces they had guarding the prisoners on alert and on him, like a slinking dark apex predator who wanted to eat and fuck and destroy, everything.
He even used his plaid scarf to strangle one of the shits to his knees, from behind, a satyr, a creature bent on this and loving it, and never wanting it to end. Eyes wild and gone, he wrenched the asshole's mouth open with his blade, staring down at him as he brought him to kneel. Kneeling with him, the other man's head jerked back, blade slinking between his teeth as he struggled his mouth against it, lips cracked open.
"Come on, I've had bigger, just," he hissed into the raider's ear, "take it like a good boy," he seethed as he tore up the inside of his mouth, cutting into his tongue as the raider spit and slobbered blood and bile.
"...bad at this. Bad, boring...not serious...and you took from me, you took from me, and you can't even—fucking—do this right," he rumbled, ending it by flinging free his blade and puncturing the man's throat at the side. His artery spurted blood out into the air, coating the wall and ground, running in a river.
He was too far, as always, going too far. And this time, no Diana to pull him back, no little 'pocket ghost' to grasp at his shoulder to talk him down. Like that manic high that tipped you too far from joy and into hysteria, it became dangerous, he would be a danger to himself and to others.
That is, if he couldn't talk himself down from it, which was still an option. He was still in there, somewhere, behind the murderous intent. Still within his skin, begging him to find the others, even as he tore down more. Tore them down like slicing through canvas with an x-acto blade, it was nothing.
They were warm bodies, not the brains of this operation, just the numbers. Numbers that with each body felled he grew more enamored by the feeling. It was heaven.
It was wrong.
He wanted it all, all at once, all of this, he wanted the brunt of their forces. Up his arms, flesh against him, blood in his mouth, digits curled in his hair—stop.
Stop. Stop. Now, stop.
Nik's breathing was ragged, the mass of their forces across the river taken care of (he hoped), but here, he drew the ones that stomped on linoleum and peeled out cries with guns and deft, blunt weapons. The blond clutched his head, veins inkling black up to his cheek, a spire to his temple. Too much, too fast, too much. Like an impending overdose, he knew it was there if he pushed too far. He needed it, he wanted it...he wanted...them back.
"Stop," he said to himself, under his breath, breathe hitching in waves as he tried to calm down. But they had taken members of his family. They had taken their supplies. They had taken him.
"...enough. What would he think, seeing you...carving up a path just for the...fucking fun of it?" he asked himself, inaudible, harrowing his breathing as he screwed his eyes shut. A raider peeled around him, the blond's hand still clutching his head, the other hand grasping his blades loosely, expertly placed between his fingers by the handles.
He nearly dropped them, but the knock upside his head with a flat board shifted his focus as it dazed him, and like the dance that lived in his bones, he struck out with both blades in a line across the raider's eyes.
Hands switched almost instantly to curl both blades in either hand, blood cast off like red acrylic in the air, heavy and thick.
The raider screamed out, clutching the gouged flesh as he fell to his knees.
Nik launched forward on fleet feet thudding the linoleum, and whirled past to make it to the prisoners, but was stopped by more men with guns. The side of his head ached, splintered wood into his skin, a concussion he wasn't entertaining. His own blood trickling down the side of his temple. His neck was cased in a ring of bruises, pocked from the chain, raw and red. The wound in his gut spread, but it wasn't deep enough to slow him down. In fact, if he had been limbless and blind, he bet it wouldn't have been enough, even then.
He liked pain. He ignored it. The wounds would catch up to him later.
"Sneaking isn't my strong suit, so here I am, and it's not going to be pretty," he yelled out, loud enough for the prisoners to hear him because his roar echoed across the walls like a death-promising warcry. He hoped Penny would make a bee-line to release them, or Amara would provide cover while he dealt with these fuckers.
"Go!" he shouted at the two women, catching them from his peripheral vision as he painted the walls and floors with scarlet blood. It felt amazing, and for a fraction of a moment, he quite simply forgot he was here for some other reason than to kill everything that came across his path.
⛧ ⛧ ⛧
He didn't know what was on the horizon for them when they'd try to finally steal back those taken from them, but at this point he was enraged again and fully ready to dig into the fray, blood across the walls, on his face, up his arms, even if he became a fucking stump without limbs. He'd keep carving a path like a fault line of destruction.
Little did Nik know, the wild, feral cretins' leader was alerted, and would soon join the fray as they tried to release their comrades from their prison. Laslo knew a distraction when he saw one, he wasn't quite as stupid as his forces.
But Nik was forgetting. He was forgetting in small slivers of an instance, and then, the beat of his heart and the nickname of Blondie in his ears rang true, and he moved. Moved with the women, moved with feet on tiles, moved fast, moved to find a way to the prisoners, not catching either of their gazes, for fear.
For the fear they'd both see this, this thing he was, and Penny would look at him like he was back again in his nightmare, his lush dream, his dream he hated and loved and wanted and feared.
Fuck hell, fuck the devil, and fuck this thing had made him act before thinking and kill without real reason, and want it, and crave, and forget.
Forget Alaska's voice, forget, and then remember. Remember, and hate himself, and forget.
He'd never be free of this disease.
[/div][div class=bottoms] 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵. [/div]
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Hell0NHighWater
Queen of Hell
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Boots dragged across the floor, friction creating squeaks and smears against tile as the giant of a man pulled Rhys towards a destination he knew he did not want to go. In a kidnapping, being taken to a secondary location often meant death. It was statistically slim that anyone would find him in any other form than a lifeless corpse. Yet at this point it was inevitable. What was it with this unbridled need to be the tragic hero? Mentally he couldn't understand where his self-preservation had gone, why he couldn't just sit back and watch the people around him burn if only to save his own skin. He couldn't blame it all on the comic books he idolized as a child. The altruistic desire was something etched so deep into him that he couldn't help it. Perhaps that was why he had been blessed, despite all the sins and all the wrongs he had committed in life he was good at throwing himself into the chaos for someone else. Cobb jerked him to a stop, head spinning as his body struggled to remain standing. The brute had taken liberties to go a few rounds while his hands were bound. Cheap shots that left him with bloodied gums and a split lip.
There was an echo of a yell, something angry that reverberated off stone walls and came back from the kennel area where the prisoners had been held. His mouth curled as a wave of relief soared throughout his veins, shoulders shaking as a low laugh tumbled out of him. Cobb jerked him again, a fist slamming into his gut that abruptly cut the laughter and replaced it with wheezes. Rhys fell to one knee, spitting blood at the other man's feet, his lips still drawn into a grin.
"You're all so fucking dead--"
"I said be quiet!"
Another blow across his face snapped his neck backward. His head spun faster. Cobb roughly manhandled him to his feet and pulled him down that dark hall with renewed speed.
Rhys staggered when they stopped again, looking up as the brutish raider banged on a metal door. An office maybe? There was no response, but Cobb opened it anyway.
"Would it kill you to loosen these? My fingers are going numb." Rhys wiggled his digits as if to emphasize the point and the bald man responded by twisting his features into a snarl.
"Do ya ever shut up?"
The detective arched an eyebrow, lips perused in contemplation "On occas--"
He didn't even finish his phrase before he was pushed roughly into the room, feet tripping up and almost falling before a pair of meaty hands grabbed him and steered him towards a single metal table. It looked like a morgue slab. That thought didn't really give him any reassurances. Cobb forced him onto the frigid metal, binding his feet in place. A frown twitched at his lips, azure orbs darting around the space but he couldn't see anything beyond the blaring white light above his head.
"Usually when people do this, they buy me," He hissed out a breath of air, face crunching into a snarl to match Cobb's, "dinner first. Ow! Fuck! Watch it, jackass!"
Cobb glared at him, and Rhys tried to cup his nose that he was pretty sure had been broken twice only for his hands to be yanked away. There was a metal clink as restraints were locked on his arms effectively restraining him to the blasted table.
The raider didn't say a thing as he left, the metal door slamming shut with an echoing thud that turned his veins to ice. The snark in his expression fell along with any bravado that he had been channeling. His lips jerked against the clasps, squinting past the light as he desperately tried to make out the rest of the room.
"It's been a long time since I've seen Cobb so irritated. Must be a real prize he's brought for me today."
Rhys glowered at the sound of the voice, jerking against the restraints. He felt something slender move across the corner of his mouth swiping at the blood that had yet to dry, "Mmm those ones really out did themselves this time."
He swallowed past the lump in his throat, nausea threatening to hurl whatever contents he had left in his stomach.
"Keep your fucking hands off me, you fucking creep."
The feminine voice laughed in response, and the table jerked as a face suddenly appeared out of the darkness. Long matted hair encased a deathly pale slender face and eyes that were so dark they were almost completely black. Her lips parted to reveal a set of sharp fangs. His mouth went dry as she ran an elongated finger across his flesh once more. "You have such fire in you, little one. A treat I am willing to savor."
He...did not like the sound of that.
His body arched off the table, desperately trying to free himself from this situation. He wasn't a fan of being vulnerable and this had vulnerability written all over it. Her nail digged across the flesh of his throat. Cold sweat trickled down his back and his growled in her direction, trying to move his knees enough in an attempt to kick her off.
"The ones that struggle always taste the best."
Her lips parted and those fangs gleamed in the light.
His eyes widened, a short scream leaving him just before her teeth sunk into the center of his throat. His breath hitched, muscles spasming as pain flashed white hot and blood spurted from where she had ripped the flesh away. In the brilliance of that single light the blood left Rhys' artery in violent jets of red. The heart that could take him through a marathon was most efficient at emptying his body of fluid. His own hand lay limp by his side, bound to a table that no longer felt so cold, his skin transitioning from its normal sun-kissed hue to a pale grey. Her fingers were sticky with congealing blood as they ripped at his throat.
His gaze flickered towards the door, unable to see it as his vision started to blur. Garbled noises left him, sounds that weren't completely formed, eyes dripping with tears. There was no way he could fight. Nothing he could do. The world crumbled around him and all he could think of in that moment where the people he was leaving behind. Penny with her blessing that was purer than his, a brilliance that he could never hope to compare to. Alaska's strong will and determination, a sister that he had somehow found in the midst of this hellscape. James' teasing and snarky remarks that reminded him almost of himself at that age. Ryan, the afflicted man whom he had yet to become friends with and yet had hoped to one day. Woofus...that fucking dog that gave him far too much love than he deserved. Daisy, the girl whom he could one day possibly see as another sister who he hadn't had time to really talk to. Reverie, the witch he famously got along with, who could dish out the witty retorts faster than he could. They each crossed his mind in that second, a family better than the one that had birthed him.
His eyes fell closed, fists curling and going lax, no longer aware of what the vampiress was doing.
The last face that crossed his mind broke him in two. Vibrant hues of blue and glistening blond, a wide grin that promised far too many things that awaited behind closed doors, but it was that memory of him in his arms that morning that really stuck. A future that had been snuffed out like the flame of a candle. No one, not even Monica, had looked at him like that. Made him feel like that.
His last flicker of consciousness held on tight to those memories. Begging for it not to disappear, begging for it not to end like this.
The pain that once burned like fire had faded away to an icy numbness. Black filled the edges of his vision and the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Seconds passed as he laid there, then, he heard voices. Gunfire. Screaming. He realized that the rest of the group had come. Just like he had known they would. If he could have, he might of laughed. It was far to late for him to be saved, yet the others...they could still make it out. He was glad for that small mercy at least.
His fragile, human heart beat one last time.
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[div class=statusText] Location: Raider's HQ
BGM: Save Me
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: The OG Squad
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[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]BGM: Save Me
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: The OG Squad
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Boots dragged across the floor, friction creating squeaks and smears against tile as the giant of a man pulled Rhys towards a destination he knew he did not want to go. In a kidnapping, being taken to a secondary location often meant death. It was statistically slim that anyone would find him in any other form than a lifeless corpse. Yet at this point it was inevitable. What was it with this unbridled need to be the tragic hero? Mentally he couldn't understand where his self-preservation had gone, why he couldn't just sit back and watch the people around him burn if only to save his own skin. He couldn't blame it all on the comic books he idolized as a child. The altruistic desire was something etched so deep into him that he couldn't help it. Perhaps that was why he had been blessed, despite all the sins and all the wrongs he had committed in life he was good at throwing himself into the chaos for someone else. Cobb jerked him to a stop, head spinning as his body struggled to remain standing. The brute had taken liberties to go a few rounds while his hands were bound. Cheap shots that left him with bloodied gums and a split lip.
There was an echo of a yell, something angry that reverberated off stone walls and came back from the kennel area where the prisoners had been held. His mouth curled as a wave of relief soared throughout his veins, shoulders shaking as a low laugh tumbled out of him. Cobb jerked him again, a fist slamming into his gut that abruptly cut the laughter and replaced it with wheezes. Rhys fell to one knee, spitting blood at the other man's feet, his lips still drawn into a grin.
"You're all so fucking dead--"
"I said be quiet!"
Another blow across his face snapped his neck backward. His head spun faster. Cobb roughly manhandled him to his feet and pulled him down that dark hall with renewed speed.
Rhys staggered when they stopped again, looking up as the brutish raider banged on a metal door. An office maybe? There was no response, but Cobb opened it anyway.
"Would it kill you to loosen these? My fingers are going numb." Rhys wiggled his digits as if to emphasize the point and the bald man responded by twisting his features into a snarl.
"Do ya ever shut up?"
The detective arched an eyebrow, lips perused in contemplation "On occas--"
He didn't even finish his phrase before he was pushed roughly into the room, feet tripping up and almost falling before a pair of meaty hands grabbed him and steered him towards a single metal table. It looked like a morgue slab. That thought didn't really give him any reassurances. Cobb forced him onto the frigid metal, binding his feet in place. A frown twitched at his lips, azure orbs darting around the space but he couldn't see anything beyond the blaring white light above his head.
"Usually when people do this, they buy me," He hissed out a breath of air, face crunching into a snarl to match Cobb's, "dinner first. Ow! Fuck! Watch it, jackass!"
Cobb glared at him, and Rhys tried to cup his nose that he was pretty sure had been broken twice only for his hands to be yanked away. There was a metal clink as restraints were locked on his arms effectively restraining him to the blasted table.
The raider didn't say a thing as he left, the metal door slamming shut with an echoing thud that turned his veins to ice. The snark in his expression fell along with any bravado that he had been channeling. His lips jerked against the clasps, squinting past the light as he desperately tried to make out the rest of the room.
"It's been a long time since I've seen Cobb so irritated. Must be a real prize he's brought for me today."
Rhys glowered at the sound of the voice, jerking against the restraints. He felt something slender move across the corner of his mouth swiping at the blood that had yet to dry, "Mmm those ones really out did themselves this time."
He swallowed past the lump in his throat, nausea threatening to hurl whatever contents he had left in his stomach.
"Keep your fucking hands off me, you fucking creep."
The feminine voice laughed in response, and the table jerked as a face suddenly appeared out of the darkness. Long matted hair encased a deathly pale slender face and eyes that were so dark they were almost completely black. Her lips parted to reveal a set of sharp fangs. His mouth went dry as she ran an elongated finger across his flesh once more. "You have such fire in you, little one. A treat I am willing to savor."
He...did not like the sound of that.
His body arched off the table, desperately trying to free himself from this situation. He wasn't a fan of being vulnerable and this had vulnerability written all over it. Her nail digged across the flesh of his throat. Cold sweat trickled down his back and his growled in her direction, trying to move his knees enough in an attempt to kick her off.
"The ones that struggle always taste the best."
Her lips parted and those fangs gleamed in the light.
His eyes widened, a short scream leaving him just before her teeth sunk into the center of his throat. His breath hitched, muscles spasming as pain flashed white hot and blood spurted from where she had ripped the flesh away. In the brilliance of that single light the blood left Rhys' artery in violent jets of red. The heart that could take him through a marathon was most efficient at emptying his body of fluid. His own hand lay limp by his side, bound to a table that no longer felt so cold, his skin transitioning from its normal sun-kissed hue to a pale grey. Her fingers were sticky with congealing blood as they ripped at his throat.
His gaze flickered towards the door, unable to see it as his vision started to blur. Garbled noises left him, sounds that weren't completely formed, eyes dripping with tears. There was no way he could fight. Nothing he could do. The world crumbled around him and all he could think of in that moment where the people he was leaving behind. Penny with her blessing that was purer than his, a brilliance that he could never hope to compare to. Alaska's strong will and determination, a sister that he had somehow found in the midst of this hellscape. James' teasing and snarky remarks that reminded him almost of himself at that age. Ryan, the afflicted man whom he had yet to become friends with and yet had hoped to one day. Woofus...that fucking dog that gave him far too much love than he deserved. Daisy, the girl whom he could one day possibly see as another sister who he hadn't had time to really talk to. Reverie, the witch he famously got along with, who could dish out the witty retorts faster than he could. They each crossed his mind in that second, a family better than the one that had birthed him.
His eyes fell closed, fists curling and going lax, no longer aware of what the vampiress was doing.
The last face that crossed his mind broke him in two. Vibrant hues of blue and glistening blond, a wide grin that promised far too many things that awaited behind closed doors, but it was that memory of him in his arms that morning that really stuck. A future that had been snuffed out like the flame of a candle. No one, not even Monica, had looked at him like that. Made him feel like that.
His last flicker of consciousness held on tight to those memories. Begging for it not to disappear, begging for it not to end like this.
The pain that once burned like fire had faded away to an icy numbness. Black filled the edges of his vision and the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Seconds passed as he laid there, then, he heard voices. Gunfire. Screaming. He realized that the rest of the group had come. Just like he had known they would. If he could have, he might of laughed. It was far to late for him to be saved, yet the others...they could still make it out. He was glad for that small mercy at least.
His fragile, human heart beat one last time.
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