There was a rather distinct uneasiness to the city tonight, the young female paladin noted as she roamed the streets looking for a new target. In truth, Harper’s Rock was always unsettled, but this was different from the usual. It was something more than just the presence of the undead fangers and the zombies. It was subtle but noticeable as if there was a subtle shift in the balance of power within the town. The red-head had felt such things in the past and always discounted them after never being able to find the source. It was something she had added to her list of things to ask her new friend about at some point, though she had flagged it as a low priority question.
Turning the corner, the woman smiled as she took in the office building before her. With a semi-experienced eye, she surveyed the building. It was one she had encountered on her circuit yet, but it seemed like a fairly easy target for someone with her skills. There were no security cameras mounted on the exterior of the building which was typically a sign of lax security inside. Indeed, the doors easily gave way to her lock-picking prowess allowing her to slip inside. Nora paused for a moment, taking a glance around the interior of the lobby. Spotting a computer about twenty feet to her right, the black-clad female carefully crossed the tile floor. Keeping an eye out for any guards, she pulled up the security programs and disabled the cameras. As the coast was still clear, she also accessed the company’s inventory program noting several large items were secured on premise. Taking care to return the computer to it’s previous state after closing everything, she quietly headed down the nearby hall.
Twenty minutes later, the paladin exited the building with a bulging with assorted goodies pilfered from right under the guards’ noses. She was extraordinarily pleased with herself over the well-done job. Not only had she not tripped any of the alarms, she had managed to avoid all the guards as well. That she had managed to safely acquire all the items she had noted from her perusal of the inventory was just the icing on the cake. A quick trip on the transit brought the woman to her favorite shop where the payouts were a bit low, but the owner never asked questions. After a stop at the bank to deposit her proceeds, she boarded the transit again, getting off at the Gullsborough stop as there was an area close by she hadn't yet gotten to explore.
Pulling her bag close, she vaguely recalled that there was rumored to be a castle or haunted mansion somewhere to the north. With a frown as she tried to recall the particulars of what she had been told, she headed north-east along the streets, keeping her eyes open for any signs that would indicate the correct place. Reaching a mansion at the end of a long drive, she cut across the fields to the west. Here she came to another mansion, but this one seemed to call out to her with that same uneasiness she had felt earlier. Spotting a slightly cracked open door, she took a chance to slip inside.
The interior was rather interesting with its stone floors, but even more interesting was that she could sense both her own kind and fangers mixed together. Wondering if she had perhaps stumbled upon a hidden nightclub or rave, she ventured further inside. Noting the copious amounts of blood, she kept her weapon hidden but accessible. Following the labyrinth of halls, she stopped short as she recognized the dress of several of the humans. Initiates of some order by the look though she was certain they weren't members of her own. Pulling up her sleeve slightly, she allowed the shimmering tattoo upon her arm to show. One of the men inclined his head as they withdrew, leaving her to her explorations. Returning the gesture, she skirted the wall into the other room, this one full of fangers and what she believed to be a couple bodies on the floor. Exiting the room just as quickly, she found a quiet hall to gather her bearings in. What on earth was going on here?
Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
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Nora (DELETED 5499)
- Posts: 33
- Joined: 17 Jun 2014, 06:24
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Robin Little
- Registered User
- Posts: 394
- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
In the last month or so, Robin’s worldview had expanded.
No longer was humanity painted in dull monochrome blacks and whites. No longer was he just a young man (well, getting on a bit now, old enough that he should have his **** together, but he doesn’t) trying to get by, scraping together just enough cash to eat. Though, he wasn’t ever exactly very careful with the money that he earned. The majority of it was spent on cigarettes and booze – drinking alone in pubs at night time was usually his best excuse for inspiration.
Now, the world was more than just human. Human foibles had become boring, anyway. Now, Robin had been inducted into a world that was kept secret from the human population. As with everything else in his life, this induction had been accidental; a meeting with a blonde on a street corner just after he’d been kicked out of his recent habitation. A blonde who’d introduced him to a world that he shouldn’t know about, and hadn’t killed him for the secrets that she had revealed. Secrets that he knew not to spread, if he wanted to keep his life.
Since then, he’d figured out how to profit from this new knowledge. He had something that the vampires might want; he had blood. Blood that replenished. Blood that might be tainted with the flaws of his particular way of living, but fresh and willing blood, which some vampires appeared to prefer. And he got paid for it, too. It seemed like a good trade. And besides which, this new life? It provided him with the most inspiration that he had ever had. Ever. And that had to be saying something.
Granted, he still had nowhere to stay. He was living in a cheap motel, day by day, until he found someone who was willing to give up a bed or a couch. Maybe he could convince some old friends that he’d actually be able to keep on top of the rent this time around. He doubted they would believe him.
The hotel itself wasn’t a very inspiring place to be, so he went there only to sleep. Every other hour of his day was spent out and about, exploring, or finding new cafes, or frequenting old cafes. Though these days he found the night life far more exciting than the day life. He’d heard a rumour about something or other somewhere in Elmsworth. Always looking for the next story, Robin decided to follow up the rumour. It might have been nothing. But, given his new discoveries, it might have been something, too.
It was a mistake, really.
Robin had no weapons to speak of. For one, he seemed to be dressed far too casually for … well, for whatever was going on inside. He wore jeans and a pair of tattered old converses, along with an un-ironed white t-shirt and a very old coat that had once been very good quality but which now could probably do with some patching up. Or with replacing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had washed it. On his head was a grey beanie, and over his shoulder was slung a canvas messenger back with his laptop inside, as well as a few other things. A spare t-shirt. A flash. A notebook and plenty of pens.
From what small amount of exploration that Robin did, he knew he had to get out. There was blood. Lots of blood. And from one corner he witnessed one male slaughter two tattooed attackers. Beheaded them. Sliced and diced – Robin was way, way out of his league. And so, horrified and slightly terrified, he turned around to get away from this place as fast as humanly possible. Except, he couldn’t remember which way he’d come. And he couldn’t find the door. So he continued to trot through the halls, doing his best to hide from absolutely everyone, and hoping to god that he didn’t run into anyone who’d want to kill him.
No longer was humanity painted in dull monochrome blacks and whites. No longer was he just a young man (well, getting on a bit now, old enough that he should have his **** together, but he doesn’t) trying to get by, scraping together just enough cash to eat. Though, he wasn’t ever exactly very careful with the money that he earned. The majority of it was spent on cigarettes and booze – drinking alone in pubs at night time was usually his best excuse for inspiration.
Now, the world was more than just human. Human foibles had become boring, anyway. Now, Robin had been inducted into a world that was kept secret from the human population. As with everything else in his life, this induction had been accidental; a meeting with a blonde on a street corner just after he’d been kicked out of his recent habitation. A blonde who’d introduced him to a world that he shouldn’t know about, and hadn’t killed him for the secrets that she had revealed. Secrets that he knew not to spread, if he wanted to keep his life.
Since then, he’d figured out how to profit from this new knowledge. He had something that the vampires might want; he had blood. Blood that replenished. Blood that might be tainted with the flaws of his particular way of living, but fresh and willing blood, which some vampires appeared to prefer. And he got paid for it, too. It seemed like a good trade. And besides which, this new life? It provided him with the most inspiration that he had ever had. Ever. And that had to be saying something.
Granted, he still had nowhere to stay. He was living in a cheap motel, day by day, until he found someone who was willing to give up a bed or a couch. Maybe he could convince some old friends that he’d actually be able to keep on top of the rent this time around. He doubted they would believe him.
The hotel itself wasn’t a very inspiring place to be, so he went there only to sleep. Every other hour of his day was spent out and about, exploring, or finding new cafes, or frequenting old cafes. Though these days he found the night life far more exciting than the day life. He’d heard a rumour about something or other somewhere in Elmsworth. Always looking for the next story, Robin decided to follow up the rumour. It might have been nothing. But, given his new discoveries, it might have been something, too.
It was a mistake, really.
Robin had no weapons to speak of. For one, he seemed to be dressed far too casually for … well, for whatever was going on inside. He wore jeans and a pair of tattered old converses, along with an un-ironed white t-shirt and a very old coat that had once been very good quality but which now could probably do with some patching up. Or with replacing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had washed it. On his head was a grey beanie, and over his shoulder was slung a canvas messenger back with his laptop inside, as well as a few other things. A spare t-shirt. A flash. A notebook and plenty of pens.
From what small amount of exploration that Robin did, he knew he had to get out. There was blood. Lots of blood. And from one corner he witnessed one male slaughter two tattooed attackers. Beheaded them. Sliced and diced – Robin was way, way out of his league. And so, horrified and slightly terrified, he turned around to get away from this place as fast as humanly possible. Except, he couldn’t remember which way he’d come. And he couldn’t find the door. So he continued to trot through the halls, doing his best to hide from absolutely everyone, and hoping to god that he didn’t run into anyone who’d want to kill him.
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Nora (DELETED 5499)
- Posts: 33
- Joined: 17 Jun 2014, 06:24
Re: Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
A couple minutes passed as the paladin collected her thoughts. Aright, so there’s a bunch of fangers and a group of initiates duking it out. Training exercise, perhaps? She from experience that training was brutal and testing was even more so, if her own Order’s program was anything to go by. They seemed to live by Darwin’s rule of survival of the fittest and this seemed to be type of scenario they would set up. However, these weren’t members of her Order and she hoped they weren’t members of Marisa’s either, because at this rate, they may not survive. Extending her senses, she pushed upward with her power, hoping to discover who or what was on the floor above. She stifled a groan at the results. More vampires, lovely. And sorcerers. Apparently, not a training exercise then most likely. Most sorcerers the woman knew wouldn’t be caught dead in a training exercises since those were considered to be beneath them. Nor did most sorcerers go into combat; they tended to work from the sidelines. No, there was definitely something afoot here.
Knowing it was unwise to stay in one spot too long, the red-head slowly crept towards the opposite end of the hall taking care not to make too much noise and draw attention to herself. For one, she was untested against the undead of this city and now did not seem like a good time to do so as she had no back up. Second, Nora was most certainly not dressed for combat against the undead. Her outfit was more than suitable for the acquisition of items and fighting off the occasionally guard or cop. Fighting vampires, though, required something different that didn’t restrict movement as much. In truth, most of her Order and many from other Orders preferred to battle in the nude. It was the state she herself preferred as well, though it was usually highly impractical for the woman to do so. Instead, she often opted for extremely tight fitting, sleeveless garments.
Her nose wrinkled slightly as she came to an abandoned chamber full of blood and guts. Well, she assumed they were guts. They were so mangled and trampled on that it was hard to tell. Given what she knew of vampires, she was fairly certain these were human bits and pieces, with the blood most likely being a mixture. Hurrying through the room taking care not to slip in the red slick, she hoped that the rest of the building and trainees were in better shape. Her blade at the ready as she turned the corner though carefully concealed to the casual onlooker.
The ****, was her first and only thought as she spotted a human that quite obviously had no business being in the building, unless he had a death wish or was a fanger’s pet. Given the way he was acting, she was fairly certain it wasn’t the latter. She would have almost made the same assumption based upon his dress, but she knew some undead treated their pets as little more than walking on-demand blood bags. Shaking her head, she carefully inched closer, tucking her sword into its custom holster so she didn’t frighten him anymore than he already was.
“Lost?” she questioned softly, as she casually swept her eyes over the area, looking for immediate threats.
Knowing it was unwise to stay in one spot too long, the red-head slowly crept towards the opposite end of the hall taking care not to make too much noise and draw attention to herself. For one, she was untested against the undead of this city and now did not seem like a good time to do so as she had no back up. Second, Nora was most certainly not dressed for combat against the undead. Her outfit was more than suitable for the acquisition of items and fighting off the occasionally guard or cop. Fighting vampires, though, required something different that didn’t restrict movement as much. In truth, most of her Order and many from other Orders preferred to battle in the nude. It was the state she herself preferred as well, though it was usually highly impractical for the woman to do so. Instead, she often opted for extremely tight fitting, sleeveless garments.
Her nose wrinkled slightly as she came to an abandoned chamber full of blood and guts. Well, she assumed they were guts. They were so mangled and trampled on that it was hard to tell. Given what she knew of vampires, she was fairly certain these were human bits and pieces, with the blood most likely being a mixture. Hurrying through the room taking care not to slip in the red slick, she hoped that the rest of the building and trainees were in better shape. Her blade at the ready as she turned the corner though carefully concealed to the casual onlooker.
The ****, was her first and only thought as she spotted a human that quite obviously had no business being in the building, unless he had a death wish or was a fanger’s pet. Given the way he was acting, she was fairly certain it wasn’t the latter. She would have almost made the same assumption based upon his dress, but she knew some undead treated their pets as little more than walking on-demand blood bags. Shaking her head, she carefully inched closer, tucking her sword into its custom holster so she didn’t frighten him anymore than he already was.
“Lost?” she questioned softly, as she casually swept her eyes over the area, looking for immediate threats.
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Robin Little
- Registered User
- Posts: 394
- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
Robin had never been witness to this kind of gore. Not in real life. On television, sure. Or in video games. As he passed by rooms filled with broken bodies – bits and pieces that no longer looked like bodies, but the organs were all there, clues as to what had once been – he wondered at how Hollywood had got to be so accurate. What did the creators of these horror films to, how did they know that this was what it would look like? Dead people. Dead people everywhere. And they were all fresh, too – the coppery smell of blood was strong in his nostrils but there were no flies. No maggots. No decay, not yet. Just blood. It smelled somewhat like an abattoir. Or, what Robin assumed an abattoir might smell like.
The writer was starting to panic a little bit. Somewhere, around the next corner, there was a blood-curdling scream and Robin slammed himself up against a wall, palms flat against it, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to figure out where he was and what the hell he should do to get out of there. He promised himself, in that moment, that he would never follow these rumours on a whim. He would never just wander in to some creepy old place and expect to find something friendly inside. That was, of course, if he managed to get out.
It was after a minute or so that he realised his hand against the wall was sticky. When he pulled it away, he found that it was covered in blood. Stepping away from the wall, he realised he’d been leaning against brain matter. Or…something. There were chunks of something stuck to the wall.
”…****,” he muttered. He realised that his already old and worn jacket would have to be very thoroughly washed. And it might not survive that wash. He’d have to get a new one. Could he afford a new one? But then he reminded himself where he was, and that he shouldn’t be thinking about his ******* clothes. Before he could begin his trek through the halls again, he was confronted by another moving, living body. Someone who noticed him, in his distractedness. He nearly shouted, but refrained, his hands held up in obvious surrender. God, he didn’t want to die.
But the woman merely asked whether he was lost, and Robin breathed a sigh of relief. Half relief, anyway.
”****, yes. Do you know the way out? What the **** is this place?!” he asked. Although his voice tremored with incredulity and fear – he was man enough to admit that he was afraid – there was also a healthy dose of curiosity. That damnable curiosity that would probably get him killed one day soon.
The writer was starting to panic a little bit. Somewhere, around the next corner, there was a blood-curdling scream and Robin slammed himself up against a wall, palms flat against it, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to figure out where he was and what the hell he should do to get out of there. He promised himself, in that moment, that he would never follow these rumours on a whim. He would never just wander in to some creepy old place and expect to find something friendly inside. That was, of course, if he managed to get out.
It was after a minute or so that he realised his hand against the wall was sticky. When he pulled it away, he found that it was covered in blood. Stepping away from the wall, he realised he’d been leaning against brain matter. Or…something. There were chunks of something stuck to the wall.
”…****,” he muttered. He realised that his already old and worn jacket would have to be very thoroughly washed. And it might not survive that wash. He’d have to get a new one. Could he afford a new one? But then he reminded himself where he was, and that he shouldn’t be thinking about his ******* clothes. Before he could begin his trek through the halls again, he was confronted by another moving, living body. Someone who noticed him, in his distractedness. He nearly shouted, but refrained, his hands held up in obvious surrender. God, he didn’t want to die.
But the woman merely asked whether he was lost, and Robin breathed a sigh of relief. Half relief, anyway.
”****, yes. Do you know the way out? What the **** is this place?!” he asked. Although his voice tremored with incredulity and fear – he was man enough to admit that he was afraid – there was also a healthy dose of curiosity. That damnable curiosity that would probably get him killed one day soon.
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Nora (DELETED 5499)
- Posts: 33
- Joined: 17 Jun 2014, 06:24
Re: Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
The sounds of the battle appeared to be a bit off, judging from the mostly muffled sounds, though she would be the first to admit her hearing was not the greatest. Getting caught in an explosion without ear protection would do that to a person. She winced slightly as a second piercing scream echoed off the walls. Relieved that they seemed to be alone for the moment, though, her attention shifted back to the male human approaching. Taking a better look at his clothing, she tried to ignore the bits of brain matter and other stray bits of guts clinging to the worn-out bits of cloth. His hands were covered in blood as was his jacket, but he seemed to be unarmed. Her eyes swept over his bag casually as she chuckled lightly at his gesture of surrender.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she shook her head with slight amusement. The bag seemed to be something a college student or low-level professional would tote about. Between that and the clothing, she was leaning towards college student or one of those starving artist types. She really couldn’t entirely discount him as being a drug addict, but he didn’t give her that vibe. One thing was certainly clear, he was most definitely not a vampire pet. Sighing softly, she wondered how this one had stumbled upon a place he really had no business in being.
“That blood is never going to come out of those clothes,” she frowned. Yep, she had totally just answered his question with a completely obvious statement - way to go Nora. “Sorry,” she apologized softly, “I’ll answer you questions in a moment, or at least answer them the best I can.” Her eyes flicked between him and his bag a moment, “Do you happen to have at least a spare shirt in your bag? It’d be best if you didn’t leave here looking like… that.” That was perhaps an understatement, she knew. The first human to see him like that would call the police while the first vampire would either kill him to help themselves to even more blood. And if the cops got their hands on him, he’d be in jail for a very long time.
She eyed him carefully as she considered his questions. Granted, she had no idea what this place really was, but she had to give him some sort of explanation, but what to tell him was the real question. ‘You walked into a battle between the undead and supernatural,’ was certainly out of the question, even if it was true. She wanted to get him out of her safely, but she didn’t want to wind up back in the insane asylum in the process.
“I don’t know the precise way out, no,” she admitted, “But I have a good idea on the general direction.” She had to give him credit. He was afraid, yes, but he hadn’t had a complete breakdown yet. The curiosity evident in his questions, to her a good sign that he’d hopefully be able to hold together until they were safely out the door. Her eyes closed as her senses weaved out and her ears perked trying to gauge how close the battle had come. There were a couple stragglers close by but nothing major by the sound.
“I don’t suppose you carry a knife or anything do you?” Her bet was on the answer being a no as she dug around in her own bag, cursing as she realized she’d left her spare under the mattress in the hotel. Gesturing him to follow, she quietly crept along the wall to the next bend, peeking around the corner before fully rounding it. “Let me ask you a question before I try to answer your other inquiry. How familiar are you with the rumors surrounding the town?”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she shook her head with slight amusement. The bag seemed to be something a college student or low-level professional would tote about. Between that and the clothing, she was leaning towards college student or one of those starving artist types. She really couldn’t entirely discount him as being a drug addict, but he didn’t give her that vibe. One thing was certainly clear, he was most definitely not a vampire pet. Sighing softly, she wondered how this one had stumbled upon a place he really had no business in being.
“That blood is never going to come out of those clothes,” she frowned. Yep, she had totally just answered his question with a completely obvious statement - way to go Nora. “Sorry,” she apologized softly, “I’ll answer you questions in a moment, or at least answer them the best I can.” Her eyes flicked between him and his bag a moment, “Do you happen to have at least a spare shirt in your bag? It’d be best if you didn’t leave here looking like… that.” That was perhaps an understatement, she knew. The first human to see him like that would call the police while the first vampire would either kill him to help themselves to even more blood. And if the cops got their hands on him, he’d be in jail for a very long time.
She eyed him carefully as she considered his questions. Granted, she had no idea what this place really was, but she had to give him some sort of explanation, but what to tell him was the real question. ‘You walked into a battle between the undead and supernatural,’ was certainly out of the question, even if it was true. She wanted to get him out of her safely, but she didn’t want to wind up back in the insane asylum in the process.
“I don’t know the precise way out, no,” she admitted, “But I have a good idea on the general direction.” She had to give him credit. He was afraid, yes, but he hadn’t had a complete breakdown yet. The curiosity evident in his questions, to her a good sign that he’d hopefully be able to hold together until they were safely out the door. Her eyes closed as her senses weaved out and her ears perked trying to gauge how close the battle had come. There were a couple stragglers close by but nothing major by the sound.
“I don’t suppose you carry a knife or anything do you?” Her bet was on the answer being a no as she dug around in her own bag, cursing as she realized she’d left her spare under the mattress in the hotel. Gesturing him to follow, she quietly crept along the wall to the next bend, peeking around the corner before fully rounding it. “Let me ask you a question before I try to answer your other inquiry. How familiar are you with the rumors surrounding the town?”
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Robin Little
- Registered User
- Posts: 394
- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
Robin hesitated. How could he not?
His eyes narrowed as he tried to remember exactly what he had said. Yes, he’d only agreed that he was lost, and had only asked what the hell was going on. Those were the only things that he had said, and yet the woman across from him first mentioned the state of his clothes – which he had been thinking about but which he had not explicitly done anything about – and second asked if he had a spare shirt. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe it was all just common sense, the things that she said. Of course when one sees another person covered in a substance that was likely to stain, they’d say something like That blood is never going to come out of those clothes. Seemed too ordinary a statement in their current situation, however, which only had Robin assuming that this woman knew a lot. How could she be so calm otherwise?
As for the shirt – he knew that he was an odd kind of person. Not everyone carried around a spare shirt in their bags. Robin did because he knew he had a tendency to not go home sometimes; to spend the night out and wake up the next morning on some new friend’s couch. The old shirt would smell like whiskey and cigarette smoke, so he’d pull out the spare in order to make himself feel a little more presentable. It wasn’t what normal people did. So why should this woman ask whether he had a spare shirt? Could she read his mind? Did she have some kind of x-ray vision?
”No. Why would I have a spare shirt?” he said, just to test her. If she knew somehow that he had a spare, then she might give away her secret. More likely, she wouldn’t. But it was worth a shot.
Robin then snorted.
”I don’t carry around a knife, no. Maybe I should start,” he said. His induction into this world had been pretty tame, and the vampires that he’d dealt with thus far had never posed any kind of danger. This was different, however. This was… chaos. This told Robin that there was a lot more going on than he was aware of, and perhaps he should continue forward with a little more care and wariness. He followed closely behind the other woman, though not so close as to bump into her if she stopped. But close enough to hear her quiet question.
”I know enough,” he said. Vague. He knew he wasn’t supposed to know, and couldn’t yet gauge whether this woman would want him dead for the things that he knew. But then he had to question his own answer. Did he really know enough? Or had only just skimmed the surface? And anyway, if this chick could read his mind, then it didn’t matter. She could just get the answer from him herself.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to remember exactly what he had said. Yes, he’d only agreed that he was lost, and had only asked what the hell was going on. Those were the only things that he had said, and yet the woman across from him first mentioned the state of his clothes – which he had been thinking about but which he had not explicitly done anything about – and second asked if he had a spare shirt. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe it was all just common sense, the things that she said. Of course when one sees another person covered in a substance that was likely to stain, they’d say something like That blood is never going to come out of those clothes. Seemed too ordinary a statement in their current situation, however, which only had Robin assuming that this woman knew a lot. How could she be so calm otherwise?
As for the shirt – he knew that he was an odd kind of person. Not everyone carried around a spare shirt in their bags. Robin did because he knew he had a tendency to not go home sometimes; to spend the night out and wake up the next morning on some new friend’s couch. The old shirt would smell like whiskey and cigarette smoke, so he’d pull out the spare in order to make himself feel a little more presentable. It wasn’t what normal people did. So why should this woman ask whether he had a spare shirt? Could she read his mind? Did she have some kind of x-ray vision?
”No. Why would I have a spare shirt?” he said, just to test her. If she knew somehow that he had a spare, then she might give away her secret. More likely, she wouldn’t. But it was worth a shot.
Robin then snorted.
”I don’t carry around a knife, no. Maybe I should start,” he said. His induction into this world had been pretty tame, and the vampires that he’d dealt with thus far had never posed any kind of danger. This was different, however. This was… chaos. This told Robin that there was a lot more going on than he was aware of, and perhaps he should continue forward with a little more care and wariness. He followed closely behind the other woman, though not so close as to bump into her if she stopped. But close enough to hear her quiet question.
”I know enough,” he said. Vague. He knew he wasn’t supposed to know, and couldn’t yet gauge whether this woman would want him dead for the things that he knew. But then he had to question his own answer. Did he really know enough? Or had only just skimmed the surface? And anyway, if this chick could read his mind, then it didn’t matter. She could just get the answer from him herself.
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Nora (DELETED 5499)
- Posts: 33
- Joined: 17 Jun 2014, 06:24
Re: Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
Nora really didn’t read much into his hesitation. After all, she was a strange woman and they were in an equally odd situation. If she had been him, she would err on the side of caution as well. The fact he hadn’t run yet nor was he attacking her were both taken as good signs. Then again, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice given the chaos surrounding the pair. The way she saw it he had three choices: Take his chances with the vampires, try to make it out himself, or trust her. In reality, they weren’t the best, but at least she hadn’t tried to harm him.
Why would he have a spare shirt? Seriously, that’s what he chose to question first? Resisting the urge to sigh, she shook her head lightly, “You’re carrying a bag and you look kind of like a college student. You’re also in Canada where the weather can change in an instant,” she explained, “Granted, you have a jacket on, but I was just thinking, if you had a different shirt, it might be wise to change and discard the one you have on.” Shaking her head, she wondered why she had to detail this for him, “While blood on your jeans or coat might be passable as grease or some such thing, there’s no hiding blood on a white shirt. People start asking questions and the police tend to get called.” She left it at that, letting him make his own choice. It was the best she could do unless she wanted to physically restrain him, go through his bag and possibly dress him. No, thank you.
The snort was foreboding, she decided with his following statement confirming her thoughts. “You should,” she agreed, “The city isn’t entirely safe. And don’t get one of those small switchblade ones,” she warned. “You want a bit of length on it otherwise you’ll have to get entirely too close for comfort if someone attacks you.” She shook her head gently, “I’d give you my spare, but I left it at home earlier and regretting doing so now.”
She was glad he was following her. It wasn’t safe for him to be here. Then again, it wasn’t exactly wise for her to be here either, but she had some protection depending on who she stumbled upon. A simple flash of her tattoos, as she had done before, would be enough for anyone of an Order to allow her to pass without harm. The vampires, though, were a different story and she honestly wasn’t sure she could fight one of them and not get seriously injured or killed.
She scanned the hallway for doorways and seeing none moved forward until they were closer to the far end before she addressed his comment on knowing enough. Satisfied that the battle still seemed to be outside the immediate area, she stopped to look at him. “Enough,” she repeated with a sigh. “I’m going to take that and your statement about starting to carry a blade and make an assumption that you’re aware of the other non-human inhabitants in the city. But you’ve obviously never run into something like this. And I’ll be honest - neither have I. The humans in here are essentially hunters, sorry, but I can’t tell you more than that about them. Partly because I’m not fully sure about them myself, but unless they think you’re a fanger’s pet, you’ll be safe from them.” She held up her hand, “And if you are, I don’t want to know about it. Safer for both of us that way. Ready to keep going?”
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Robin Little
- Registered User
- Posts: 394
- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
Robin was forced to look down at his own shirt. His back had been against the grimy, blood-and-brains smeared wall. Not his front; his hands had got dirty, but how could the white shirt have got dirty? Maybe he’d wiped his hands, inadvertently – a subconscious need to get rid of the sticky blood on his hands. It’s not as if he’d been spattered by blood, or anything. He wasn’t covered in the stuff, was he? He shook his head and tugged the jacket closed, buttoning it. No point in getting his spare shirt dirty now, was there? He had a limited amount of clothing as it was.
”I’ll keep it in mind,” Robin said in regards to the knife. He had no idea where to shop for a serviceable skirmish knife, unless he stole a kitchen knife from somewhere. Maybe a steak knife from one of those restaurants that specialise in steak and stock the really heavy duty steak knives. As for anything too special, there was no way he would be able to afford it. He didn’t think. Sure, he’d been getting a bit of cash from his job moonlighting as a blood doll, but it wasn’t enough to go spending some exorbitant sum on a weapon he may never use. Though, now after witnessing this chaos, his views were beginning to change.
And then Robin lifted his shoulder in a shrug, his mouth opened to answer; but then he stopped. He stopped for two reasons. First, because the woman had told him she didn’t want to know. He could have said no, of course, but then he wasn’t about to explain exactly what he was to vampires – or what he marketed himself as. Why? Because, secondly, the use of the word fanger seemed somehow derisive and derogatory. It could have just been another word for vampires, but it didn’t seem to be a respectful one. She’d also said that the humans in this place were hunters. Robin had no way of telling whether she was vampire or not; he had no way to tell what she was at all. If she was one of the hunters then there was no telling whether she would continue to help him if she knew he was, actually, working for the other side. He cleared his throat, his curiosity getting the better of him.
”So which are you, then?” he asked. ”Fanger or Hunter? Or neither? What exactly are you doing in here?” he asked. Perhaps he had lost his sense of decorum. Maybe it wasn’t a question he should have asked. But he asked it anyway, because he couldn’t help himself. And, because they hadn’t reached an exit yet and until they did, he was stuck with this woman. Girl. Whatever she was. And he wanted to know where he stood. Whether he could trust her or not – though given that she was helping him, he was leaning more toward trust than not.
”My name’s Robin, by the way,” he said, voice low as he continued on behind the woman. Only a nod was given in regards to her question about continuing onwards.
”I’ll keep it in mind,” Robin said in regards to the knife. He had no idea where to shop for a serviceable skirmish knife, unless he stole a kitchen knife from somewhere. Maybe a steak knife from one of those restaurants that specialise in steak and stock the really heavy duty steak knives. As for anything too special, there was no way he would be able to afford it. He didn’t think. Sure, he’d been getting a bit of cash from his job moonlighting as a blood doll, but it wasn’t enough to go spending some exorbitant sum on a weapon he may never use. Though, now after witnessing this chaos, his views were beginning to change.
And then Robin lifted his shoulder in a shrug, his mouth opened to answer; but then he stopped. He stopped for two reasons. First, because the woman had told him she didn’t want to know. He could have said no, of course, but then he wasn’t about to explain exactly what he was to vampires – or what he marketed himself as. Why? Because, secondly, the use of the word fanger seemed somehow derisive and derogatory. It could have just been another word for vampires, but it didn’t seem to be a respectful one. She’d also said that the humans in this place were hunters. Robin had no way of telling whether she was vampire or not; he had no way to tell what she was at all. If she was one of the hunters then there was no telling whether she would continue to help him if she knew he was, actually, working for the other side. He cleared his throat, his curiosity getting the better of him.
”So which are you, then?” he asked. ”Fanger or Hunter? Or neither? What exactly are you doing in here?” he asked. Perhaps he had lost his sense of decorum. Maybe it wasn’t a question he should have asked. But he asked it anyway, because he couldn’t help himself. And, because they hadn’t reached an exit yet and until they did, he was stuck with this woman. Girl. Whatever she was. And he wanted to know where he stood. Whether he could trust her or not – though given that she was helping him, he was leaning more toward trust than not.
”My name’s Robin, by the way,” he said, voice low as he continued on behind the woman. Only a nod was given in regards to her question about continuing onwards.
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Nora (DELETED 5499)
- Posts: 33
- Joined: 17 Jun 2014, 06:24
Re: Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
He surprised her slightly, if she was honest. She expected more questions not just quiet acceptance of the majority of what she had said. The paladin hoped it was a sign that he was willing to trust her and not due to him going into some kind of shock. She really did not want to end up pulling a limp, passed out breathing body to safety. That he hadn’t already passed out from all the blood and gore had been promising. The other option was that he was indeed a vampire pet and was biding his time. While it was a possibility, she was fairly certain she was safe from him attacking her.
She chewed on her lip lightly as she moved forward. “There’s plenty of cheap or free knives, if you know where to look,” she remarked softly, “You just have to be willing to get dirty. It might help you decide if carrying one is for you without spending a lot on something you end you deciding you won’t use.” The Catacombs, she knew, was an excellent place for finding old, used weapons that were still serviceable and sometimes, you even got lucky and found something that was still in good shape. If nothing else, the less desirable items could be sold on the black market fetching enough to buy a decent blade from the same.
There was that bit of hesitation again, she noted with a gentle frown as she kept creeping forward. A quick look around the corner showed they had reached an empty room. She slipped around the corner, scanning the area as she thought. Two doors were present, aside from the one they were entering through, one seemed to lead back the way they came and the other led in the nearly opposite direction. It was the latter that she determined they would check out first as it seemed the most likely to lead somewhere other than the fighting.
“Nora,” she supplied softly as she crossed the doorway, hugging the wall as she worked her way towards the door she had set her sight on, “Nice to meet you, Robin.” How to answer his question of what she was an interesting topic for debate and it would be several moments before she decided precisely what to tell him. She most certainly was not a vampire, but was she really a hunter? Did it really count if you didn’t choose it? The red-head wondered if it would matter to him. There was the little nagging voice in her head that suggested perhaps it did, but she really wasn’t certain. Her path had been set for her; there was no way to undo what had been done. Did Paladins even have non-fatal exit clauses she mused as she inched ever closer to that door.
“Got lost,” she answered the last question first since it was the easiest of the bunch. “I had heard there was a castle up in these parts and wanted to see if I could find it. Ended up taking a shortcut across the eastern meadow and came across an open door on this place. I really need to learn to curb my inquisitiveness before it gets me killed.” She shook her head with a bit of amusement, “I’m not a cat, but curiosity seems to be my downfall.”
After a moment, she returned to the more important question, “I guess I’d be a Hunter, if they or the vampires had to be pick for me.” She kept her voice down, mindful on how empty rooms carried sound, “I have a more enhanced set of skills than your typical run of the mill human, but it wasn’t something I chose for myself.” She left it at that, figuring if he really wanted to know about that part he’d ask for clarification.
“Vampires who keep to themselves, I have no problem with. I have no problem with those that have true pets and care for them well, as long as the pets are willing. But there are some that will bewitch and enslave their pets, taking away most of their ability to think for themselves. They still can, but they’re devoted to their masters and typically won’t do anything to harm them - those are what I consider fanger’s pets, though they’re mostly referred to as thralls, I believe.” She shook her head, “Then there’s those fangers that got out of their way to hurt humans, simply because they’re human. The ones that think they should be the rulers and the humans thier subjects.I really don’t like those kind.”
Her nose twitched lightly as they reached the door. The smell of blood was strong here and she could see where it had started to dry upon the walls. With a soft sigh, she moved though the door and the small hallway into yet another empty room, though this one was smaller. “By my nature, I’m not supposed to like any of the fanged ones. But, I can’t take them all out. So why should I bother hunting down those that act responsibly and don’t abuse humans when I can focus on trying to make the city safer by taking out those that do?”
She chewed on her lip lightly as she moved forward. “There’s plenty of cheap or free knives, if you know where to look,” she remarked softly, “You just have to be willing to get dirty. It might help you decide if carrying one is for you without spending a lot on something you end you deciding you won’t use.” The Catacombs, she knew, was an excellent place for finding old, used weapons that were still serviceable and sometimes, you even got lucky and found something that was still in good shape. If nothing else, the less desirable items could be sold on the black market fetching enough to buy a decent blade from the same.
There was that bit of hesitation again, she noted with a gentle frown as she kept creeping forward. A quick look around the corner showed they had reached an empty room. She slipped around the corner, scanning the area as she thought. Two doors were present, aside from the one they were entering through, one seemed to lead back the way they came and the other led in the nearly opposite direction. It was the latter that she determined they would check out first as it seemed the most likely to lead somewhere other than the fighting.
“Nora,” she supplied softly as she crossed the doorway, hugging the wall as she worked her way towards the door she had set her sight on, “Nice to meet you, Robin.” How to answer his question of what she was an interesting topic for debate and it would be several moments before she decided precisely what to tell him. She most certainly was not a vampire, but was she really a hunter? Did it really count if you didn’t choose it? The red-head wondered if it would matter to him. There was the little nagging voice in her head that suggested perhaps it did, but she really wasn’t certain. Her path had been set for her; there was no way to undo what had been done. Did Paladins even have non-fatal exit clauses she mused as she inched ever closer to that door.
“Got lost,” she answered the last question first since it was the easiest of the bunch. “I had heard there was a castle up in these parts and wanted to see if I could find it. Ended up taking a shortcut across the eastern meadow and came across an open door on this place. I really need to learn to curb my inquisitiveness before it gets me killed.” She shook her head with a bit of amusement, “I’m not a cat, but curiosity seems to be my downfall.”
After a moment, she returned to the more important question, “I guess I’d be a Hunter, if they or the vampires had to be pick for me.” She kept her voice down, mindful on how empty rooms carried sound, “I have a more enhanced set of skills than your typical run of the mill human, but it wasn’t something I chose for myself.” She left it at that, figuring if he really wanted to know about that part he’d ask for clarification.
“Vampires who keep to themselves, I have no problem with. I have no problem with those that have true pets and care for them well, as long as the pets are willing. But there are some that will bewitch and enslave their pets, taking away most of their ability to think for themselves. They still can, but they’re devoted to their masters and typically won’t do anything to harm them - those are what I consider fanger’s pets, though they’re mostly referred to as thralls, I believe.” She shook her head, “Then there’s those fangers that got out of their way to hurt humans, simply because they’re human. The ones that think they should be the rulers and the humans thier subjects.I really don’t like those kind.”
Her nose twitched lightly as they reached the door. The smell of blood was strong here and she could see where it had started to dry upon the walls. With a soft sigh, she moved though the door and the small hallway into yet another empty room, though this one was smaller. “By my nature, I’m not supposed to like any of the fanged ones. But, I can’t take them all out. So why should I bother hunting down those that act responsibly and don’t abuse humans when I can focus on trying to make the city safer by taking out those that do?”
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Robin Little
- Registered User
- Posts: 394
- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Mayhem in the Sanctuary [Open]
The whole scenario was not ideal, no. Robin was, of course, cursing himself for having been so stupid. But in a lot of ways, he could be described as the intrepid explorer. Although he would never debase himself enough to become a journalist, he had a journalist’s curiosity and recklessness. The kind who would do anything for a story, even if it meant gearing up in full battle regalia to jump out of a plane to land in the middle of an active battlefield. Maybe he should have become a journalist. Maybe, he should have tried to get a job for one of the more prestigious companies, like Time or National Geographic. But, that would require effort, and reliability, and the general ability to meet deadlines and get **** done.
Robin was not a get **** done kind of guy.
No, instead, he was a wander into slaughterhouse buildings kind of guy. Without weapons or efficient knowledge. But, as per usual, life seemed to like handing him his get-out-of-jail free cards. This time, it came in the form of a black-clad woman who at least seemed amenable to answering his questions. Questions that could, given the current situation, seem mundane and ridiculous but which proved as a satisfactory distraction to the fact that death could be lying in wait, just around the corner.
A frown creased Robin’s brow as Nora answered his questions; she answered fully. She didn’t hold much back. The way she spoke of humans was as if she wasn’t one herself. Which seemed odd. It was a hurdle for his mind to grapple with, that there could be something other than vampires that weren’t human. The entire concept was completely alien to him, and yet he continued on without hurling another ten questions at the woman. First, he addressed his own concerns.
”Thrall seems far more politically correct than pets,” he said. He wasn’t a thrall, no. He was connected to no ‘master’. He had his own free will, and he was glad of it, too. But still – he was a tolerant man, a man who believed in equality between sexes and sexualities, between cultures and races and creeds. To call a human being a ‘pet’ was a debasement, he believed, even if he didn’t have all the facts required to come to such a conclusion.
And, though the rest of Nora’s answer was percolating in his brain, there was one thing that she had said that stood out. One thing that he wanted to question, even though it took him a few minutes to actually form that question upon his tongue and spill it. He was hoping that they’d be out of here by now – that the door that he’d lost wouldn’t be too far away. There were still so many corners to creep around, it would seem. And the smell of blood made his stomach turn. Yeah, there was a healthy amount of fear. Curiosity, yes, but mainly fear. So he continued to talk in hushed tones, if only to distract himself from that fear – from the anxiety that around the next corner they’d encounter a foe that would see them only as the enemy. To be killed. Especially as this woman announced herself as a hunter, for ****’s sake. Did that put targets on their backs? Would he be considered a threat, just because he was trailing along behind a hunter? Well, he couldn’t stop following her. She was his way out.
”How can you gain skills as a hunter against your own will?” Robin asked. To him, it seemed to be a chosen profession. Something you’d have to train at, day in and day out. Like training to become a black belt. To become a thrall against one’s will? Sure. A vampire against one’s will? Definitely plausible. But to be a hunter against one’s will? Robin was starting to think things were far more complicated than he could have ever imagined.
Robin was not a get **** done kind of guy.
No, instead, he was a wander into slaughterhouse buildings kind of guy. Without weapons or efficient knowledge. But, as per usual, life seemed to like handing him his get-out-of-jail free cards. This time, it came in the form of a black-clad woman who at least seemed amenable to answering his questions. Questions that could, given the current situation, seem mundane and ridiculous but which proved as a satisfactory distraction to the fact that death could be lying in wait, just around the corner.
A frown creased Robin’s brow as Nora answered his questions; she answered fully. She didn’t hold much back. The way she spoke of humans was as if she wasn’t one herself. Which seemed odd. It was a hurdle for his mind to grapple with, that there could be something other than vampires that weren’t human. The entire concept was completely alien to him, and yet he continued on without hurling another ten questions at the woman. First, he addressed his own concerns.
”Thrall seems far more politically correct than pets,” he said. He wasn’t a thrall, no. He was connected to no ‘master’. He had his own free will, and he was glad of it, too. But still – he was a tolerant man, a man who believed in equality between sexes and sexualities, between cultures and races and creeds. To call a human being a ‘pet’ was a debasement, he believed, even if he didn’t have all the facts required to come to such a conclusion.
And, though the rest of Nora’s answer was percolating in his brain, there was one thing that she had said that stood out. One thing that he wanted to question, even though it took him a few minutes to actually form that question upon his tongue and spill it. He was hoping that they’d be out of here by now – that the door that he’d lost wouldn’t be too far away. There were still so many corners to creep around, it would seem. And the smell of blood made his stomach turn. Yeah, there was a healthy amount of fear. Curiosity, yes, but mainly fear. So he continued to talk in hushed tones, if only to distract himself from that fear – from the anxiety that around the next corner they’d encounter a foe that would see them only as the enemy. To be killed. Especially as this woman announced herself as a hunter, for ****’s sake. Did that put targets on their backs? Would he be considered a threat, just because he was trailing along behind a hunter? Well, he couldn’t stop following her. She was his way out.
”How can you gain skills as a hunter against your own will?” Robin asked. To him, it seemed to be a chosen profession. Something you’d have to train at, day in and day out. Like training to become a black belt. To become a thrall against one’s will? Sure. A vampire against one’s will? Definitely plausible. But to be a hunter against one’s will? Robin was starting to think things were far more complicated than he could have ever imagined.