Title: Strange Green
------------------------------
Characters: Claude Lambert, Crawley
Claude Lambert must post first, outlining a story on the following theme (feel free to get creative):
Setting: An unsettling cavern
Backstory: The group crossed paths after approaching the scene of a disturbance (some or all characters).
Occurance: you meet a group of hired mercinaries who offer to pay you if you break into a heavily guarded area and assassinate an important individual.
Variable: Claude Lambert is naked for some reason.
Participants: 2
ARES: yes
Speed: very slow
Chapter: no
Minimum Words Per Post: 100
Maximum Words Per Post: 1500
------------------------------
This thread was generated via the Roleplay Matchmaking System.
Strange Green [MM]
-
Claude Lambert
- Registered User
- Posts: 111
- Joined: 26 Feb 2018, 20:48
- CrowNet Handle: Followers to Stone
Re: Strange Green [MM]
It was one of those evenings again. The wind was cold and the rain came down like bullets. The apartment was quiet but for the sound of the leaking tap, the irregular tick of the clock in the narrow hallway, and the phonograph, which had been left on in the front room to entertain the ghosts with the third movement of Stravinsky’s Septet (1953). The only living soul in the apartment had taken to the bathroom with the vain and short-term goal of washing away the filth of Harper Rock City; an act that could marginally be completed by standing under the showerhead for 30 minutes each day. Contrary to the icy tempest of nature that stained its tears on every window pane, the room in which Claude occupied was bright, warm, and comforting. The steam hung like low clouds scented with clove and sandalwood, refracting the white light of the halogen downlights into tiny diamonds against the marble walls. It was almost too much opulence for one room to bear. Almost. Should the German have his way, of course, there would be a young naked thing stood next to him in the shower, willing and eager to scrub his back…
There was, however, no such luck on that front tonight.
Claude was both literally and effectively alone. In a former life, the German aspired to emulate the business success of men such as Bernard Arnault, who was once quoted saying that “luxury goods are the only area in which it is possible to make luxury margins.” There was certainly some truth to that statement too. After all, LVMH – of which Arnault is the chair, CEO, and majority shareholder – recorded revenue of more than $44 billion in 2016. LVMH furthermore incorporates globally renowned high-end brands like Louis Vuitton, Tag Heuer, and Dom Perignon, giving Arnault’s company a very substantial chunk of the luxury goods market and Arnault himself a reputation, according to Forbes, as “one of the world’s ultimate tastemakers.” The Lambert family business, for which Claude had been acting CEO for nearly a decade, had certainly done well to imitate Arnault’s values and where there is money, there is often a strong network of friends. Being alone – literally or effectively – was practically impossible back then.
Perhaps the term friend was a bit of an overstatement as these were hardly the type of human beings to be relied upon for anything more demanding than a complimentary word in one’s ear, but then, Claude was hardly innocent in such areas either. The German cared very little for other people, devoting his every affection to his wife, and with her passing so too did any further inspiration for compassion toward any of Earth’s inhabitants. The former millionaire now lived his days and his nights in isolation. He slept alone, he drank alone, he dined alone, showered alone, and he woke each day alone and tired. Certainly the gravity of others could pull him into company occasionally, manipulate his orbit, but he only strayed a little; his sights set on moving forward and rarely looking back even if he didn’t know where he was headed.
Staring ahead at the misty window, a ghostly reflection looked back at him against the city skyline. The night dressed the city in unexpected beauty the way a black sequinned dress could transform a Plain Jane into a Femme Fatale. Meanwhile, the dark mirror only revealed the young Blood Thief as a beautiful fraud; a rapturous candy shell enrobing a bitter, gelatinous interior. Claude drew the thick blackout curtains together to shun the world and his image. The dark emerald colour was not only regal in appearance, but also highly effective at blocking out the sunlight during the day. Light sensitivity was not a new-found curse to the German, but now he could blame his new diet on such things whereas before, he could only blame alcohol and poor decision making. There were undoubtedly an unlimited number of poor decisions still ahead of him, but he rarely – if ever – let such decisions negatively affect his outfit choice.
When once the German accustomed himself to wearing only Brioni, Guuci, Burberry, and the like, he now found himself staring at a wardrobe filled with jumpers, trousers, and jackets with no particular name. He also had to dress more practically these days, for activities that were better suited to his former horses, dogs, and hired servants. He’d almost forgotten the touch of cashmere or the silken caress of a finely tailored suit. Boardroom meetings were now something he reminisced about rather than cursed as he left the starched air to refine himself in his private office. The modern Claude enjoyed few pleasures from dressing and so he picked an outfit quickly; one that while functional for the elements still ornamented him in an air of ostentatious charisma.
Turning sharply on the heels of his black leather monk shoes, Claude strode purposefully towards the door as silently and as elegantly as his midnight jeans would allow. Stretching out a grey wool-covered arm to grab his black blouson jacket, he wasted no further time in the comforts of home and dashed outside to embrace the chilled air of Harper Rock. Recently he had begun to venture further afield and explore the city’s less known corners; specifically to the East side of Moss End, past Bullwood. The rewards were lucrative enough to justify the list of undesirables, which started with the German having to wear less formal attire and ended with him having to physically conquer spider demons in a cavern. It was just as well that he had learned the basics of survival camping in the wilderness as a child, but those skills had been honed to near expert level now that he was a regular monster hunter.
To think, just a decade prior, Claude would not have known the consistency of blood as intimately as he now does. He wouldn’t have known that there could be such a difference in the colour and texture – purportedly due to volume – for when his knife severed a carotid artery and when his bullets punctured the superior muscular veins of the abdomen. Vampire blood also seemed to react differently to one another and to Humans; though he’d never come into such violent confrontations with them. Being a Blood Thief had changed so much about the way he perceived life; its priorities, its valuations on things, and its attempt to control such things. It also changed the way he had changed.
Despite there being little to no lighting whatsoever in Algonquin caves, he found it fairly easy to figure out where he was going and where he was stepping. It was like his senses had come alive in the dark and the silence. Claude could hear everything, from the soft, dull pops and trickles of water falling into the shallow pools beside his feet, to the hollow, rasping whisper of the wind that bellowed through the entrance of the cavern, getting lighter and then fizzing out completely the further he walked. The German could hear the faint echoing of movement and biological sounds up ahead too as he travelled into the depths of this hungry abyss, so that gave him plenty of reason to be cautious. A solemn squeak made him flinch and reach quietly for his gun, but he thought better about shooting off a round just to hunt a rat. It also wouldn’t do him very well to announce his arrival to whosoever was up ahead.
As the path descended further, the nature of his surroundings began to change. Ahead of the dirt and rock passageway was what looked to be a collection of stone tunnels and rooms. Built of chiselled stone, the neat confines of the gaping chamber stretched beyond the eye’s gaze, made all the more difficult by a thick haze that hung in the centre of the room. Claude wasn’t entirely sure by whom or what this chamber had been built, but he knew that those spiders frequented the area en mass and rarely accommodated people. Applying a steady hand to the stone wall, Claude leant his ear next to the entrance. The sounds, even as hollow as they were, were definitely coming from this location, but were maybe a few metres ahead of his position. Still, he could make out two voices – one male and one female – and the desperation in their voices. It sounded like they were in an emergency situation, with one possibly injured, and worse still, they were under threat.
Claude heard the unmistakable words to back off being shouted by the male while the female cried and sobbed. Not wanting to take any chances, the Blood Thief rounded the corner and approached the pair. He quickly discovered that he was right to impose as the Lesser Jorogumo leapt down from the wall. Its fangs, primed for the man’s throat, were deflected with an expert ceding parry, but it was clear that the beast was not going to be deterred so easily...
There was, however, no such luck on that front tonight.
Claude was both literally and effectively alone. In a former life, the German aspired to emulate the business success of men such as Bernard Arnault, who was once quoted saying that “luxury goods are the only area in which it is possible to make luxury margins.” There was certainly some truth to that statement too. After all, LVMH – of which Arnault is the chair, CEO, and majority shareholder – recorded revenue of more than $44 billion in 2016. LVMH furthermore incorporates globally renowned high-end brands like Louis Vuitton, Tag Heuer, and Dom Perignon, giving Arnault’s company a very substantial chunk of the luxury goods market and Arnault himself a reputation, according to Forbes, as “one of the world’s ultimate tastemakers.” The Lambert family business, for which Claude had been acting CEO for nearly a decade, had certainly done well to imitate Arnault’s values and where there is money, there is often a strong network of friends. Being alone – literally or effectively – was practically impossible back then.
Perhaps the term friend was a bit of an overstatement as these were hardly the type of human beings to be relied upon for anything more demanding than a complimentary word in one’s ear, but then, Claude was hardly innocent in such areas either. The German cared very little for other people, devoting his every affection to his wife, and with her passing so too did any further inspiration for compassion toward any of Earth’s inhabitants. The former millionaire now lived his days and his nights in isolation. He slept alone, he drank alone, he dined alone, showered alone, and he woke each day alone and tired. Certainly the gravity of others could pull him into company occasionally, manipulate his orbit, but he only strayed a little; his sights set on moving forward and rarely looking back even if he didn’t know where he was headed.
Staring ahead at the misty window, a ghostly reflection looked back at him against the city skyline. The night dressed the city in unexpected beauty the way a black sequinned dress could transform a Plain Jane into a Femme Fatale. Meanwhile, the dark mirror only revealed the young Blood Thief as a beautiful fraud; a rapturous candy shell enrobing a bitter, gelatinous interior. Claude drew the thick blackout curtains together to shun the world and his image. The dark emerald colour was not only regal in appearance, but also highly effective at blocking out the sunlight during the day. Light sensitivity was not a new-found curse to the German, but now he could blame his new diet on such things whereas before, he could only blame alcohol and poor decision making. There were undoubtedly an unlimited number of poor decisions still ahead of him, but he rarely – if ever – let such decisions negatively affect his outfit choice.
When once the German accustomed himself to wearing only Brioni, Guuci, Burberry, and the like, he now found himself staring at a wardrobe filled with jumpers, trousers, and jackets with no particular name. He also had to dress more practically these days, for activities that were better suited to his former horses, dogs, and hired servants. He’d almost forgotten the touch of cashmere or the silken caress of a finely tailored suit. Boardroom meetings were now something he reminisced about rather than cursed as he left the starched air to refine himself in his private office. The modern Claude enjoyed few pleasures from dressing and so he picked an outfit quickly; one that while functional for the elements still ornamented him in an air of ostentatious charisma.
Turning sharply on the heels of his black leather monk shoes, Claude strode purposefully towards the door as silently and as elegantly as his midnight jeans would allow. Stretching out a grey wool-covered arm to grab his black blouson jacket, he wasted no further time in the comforts of home and dashed outside to embrace the chilled air of Harper Rock. Recently he had begun to venture further afield and explore the city’s less known corners; specifically to the East side of Moss End, past Bullwood. The rewards were lucrative enough to justify the list of undesirables, which started with the German having to wear less formal attire and ended with him having to physically conquer spider demons in a cavern. It was just as well that he had learned the basics of survival camping in the wilderness as a child, but those skills had been honed to near expert level now that he was a regular monster hunter.
To think, just a decade prior, Claude would not have known the consistency of blood as intimately as he now does. He wouldn’t have known that there could be such a difference in the colour and texture – purportedly due to volume – for when his knife severed a carotid artery and when his bullets punctured the superior muscular veins of the abdomen. Vampire blood also seemed to react differently to one another and to Humans; though he’d never come into such violent confrontations with them. Being a Blood Thief had changed so much about the way he perceived life; its priorities, its valuations on things, and its attempt to control such things. It also changed the way he had changed.
Despite there being little to no lighting whatsoever in Algonquin caves, he found it fairly easy to figure out where he was going and where he was stepping. It was like his senses had come alive in the dark and the silence. Claude could hear everything, from the soft, dull pops and trickles of water falling into the shallow pools beside his feet, to the hollow, rasping whisper of the wind that bellowed through the entrance of the cavern, getting lighter and then fizzing out completely the further he walked. The German could hear the faint echoing of movement and biological sounds up ahead too as he travelled into the depths of this hungry abyss, so that gave him plenty of reason to be cautious. A solemn squeak made him flinch and reach quietly for his gun, but he thought better about shooting off a round just to hunt a rat. It also wouldn’t do him very well to announce his arrival to whosoever was up ahead.
As the path descended further, the nature of his surroundings began to change. Ahead of the dirt and rock passageway was what looked to be a collection of stone tunnels and rooms. Built of chiselled stone, the neat confines of the gaping chamber stretched beyond the eye’s gaze, made all the more difficult by a thick haze that hung in the centre of the room. Claude wasn’t entirely sure by whom or what this chamber had been built, but he knew that those spiders frequented the area en mass and rarely accommodated people. Applying a steady hand to the stone wall, Claude leant his ear next to the entrance. The sounds, even as hollow as they were, were definitely coming from this location, but were maybe a few metres ahead of his position. Still, he could make out two voices – one male and one female – and the desperation in their voices. It sounded like they were in an emergency situation, with one possibly injured, and worse still, they were under threat.
Claude heard the unmistakable words to back off being shouted by the male while the female cried and sobbed. Not wanting to take any chances, the Blood Thief rounded the corner and approached the pair. He quickly discovered that he was right to impose as the Lesser Jorogumo leapt down from the wall. Its fangs, primed for the man’s throat, were deflected with an expert ceding parry, but it was clear that the beast was not going to be deterred so easily...
BLOOD THIEF | sorcerer
| Character Sheet |
| OOC: Claire |
-
Crawley (DELETED 11638)
- Posts: 48
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 03:55
Re: Strange Green [MM]
Rebecca looked at a sapphire she'd managed to find. She didn't come here often, but she was trying to get a boat and while it wasn't the most enjoyable form of work going here occasionally could still be a bit of a boost for income. However her attention was quickly nabbed when a sound echoed through the caverns, a shout, crying, she pulled the end off of her spear so the bladed head was no longer covered up and started rushing through the caverns towards where she guessed the sound was coming from. Admittedly, she missed it on the first time around turning a corner to see a dead end. But only moments later she came up to see three people and a Lesser Jurogomo. Oh crap she thought. She was very unsure if she could help here.
But there were people in danger and she was not ok with sitting by. She leapt forwards quickly and took a jab at it as it was turned away, not intending on really hurting it just getting it's attention, then leaping backwards quickly, "Come on, come and get me!" she taunted stepping back keeping the spear point between them ready to strike quickly if it came for her or leap back if it try to break the spear. It was a pretty high quality spear to be fair but she didn't want it to get grabbed and thrown away from her either, especially since she didn't know if these other people were going to help her if she got them out of here. She had fed recently enough on a willing vampire with a good deal of powers but that didn't mean she could apply their abilities as high as they could have, as numerous as they may have been at the time.
"Come on I dare you you cave-dwelling smelly piece of garbage." she jabbed forwards and back quickly, she obviously wasn't going to just verbally attack it she wanted to make sure it knew she was going to stab it if it turned it's back a any moment. She glanced occasionally very quickly at the three of them. Somebody better get running or doing something very soon there was no way she was going to beat this on her own, maybe hold it off long enough for escape, but she wasn't gonna kill it that was for sure.
But there were people in danger and she was not ok with sitting by. She leapt forwards quickly and took a jab at it as it was turned away, not intending on really hurting it just getting it's attention, then leaping backwards quickly, "Come on, come and get me!" she taunted stepping back keeping the spear point between them ready to strike quickly if it came for her or leap back if it try to break the spear. It was a pretty high quality spear to be fair but she didn't want it to get grabbed and thrown away from her either, especially since she didn't know if these other people were going to help her if she got them out of here. She had fed recently enough on a willing vampire with a good deal of powers but that didn't mean she could apply their abilities as high as they could have, as numerous as they may have been at the time.
"Come on I dare you you cave-dwelling smelly piece of garbage." she jabbed forwards and back quickly, she obviously wasn't going to just verbally attack it she wanted to make sure it knew she was going to stab it if it turned it's back a any moment. She glanced occasionally very quickly at the three of them. Somebody better get running or doing something very soon there was no way she was going to beat this on her own, maybe hold it off long enough for escape, but she wasn't gonna kill it that was for sure.
-
Claude Lambert
- Registered User
- Posts: 111
- Joined: 26 Feb 2018, 20:48
- CrowNet Handle: Followers to Stone
Re: Strange Green [MM]
The world was rife with legends depicting primal stories of men and monsters; the themes, characters, narratives, and language upon which so much literature is built. A guideline for classical references in art, literature, and general culture, these were the tales that inspired countless generations to find that they were strong. As a child, these books that explored the myths of civilisations such as the Gods of Egypt and the monsters of Greece, enchanted Claude. Fluently written, without skimping on indigenous names, and sumptuously illustrated, these stories gave him a distinct taste for adventure and heroism. In his youth, he would save scavenging foxes from their property’s hounds, he would nurture sick birds back to health, and even feed the stray cats with scraps he had pocketed from earlier meals. He found himself capable of small acts of kindness toward his fellow man as well, but he was unable to make the larger gestures that would actually matter to a person. His father loathed the nature of charity as theirs was a name built on hard work and harder decisions.
The Lambert family had not come into money like many of the other gilded echelons of the upper classes and the elite of Hamburg; the industrialists, financiers, high government officials, and large landowners amongst many others. The Lambert family had forced their way into the circles of the elite. Social class in Germany is not only a matter of training, employment, and income but also a style of life, self-understanding, and self-display. The so-called bildungsbürgertum, or educated bourgeoisie of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, were characterised first and foremost by a particular constellation of artistic and literary tastes, habits, as well as cultural and ethical values. Suffice it to say, his education was stellar, he was attuned to the most highly praised musicians, artists, and literary geniuses, and he was indoctrinated into the ethics and procedures of his family. Claude’s life was to be a repeat of his forefathers, a legacy that ran for eternity as its resources, powers, and knowledge sired the next generation. Claude had not expected his life to be anything different to what he had been taught, and everything he had been taught since his childhood did not include giving his life to anyone other than his beloved family.
While Claude had moved away from his homeland, rejected his parents, the family business, and their fortune, he had not completely walked away from tradition. It came as a surprise to the German then that he had acted so quickly in this situation. Claude had positioned himself between the Jorogumo and its prey without much thought toward his own safety or misanthropic beliefs. Before arriving in Harper Rock City, the only kinds of skirmish that Claude had participated in were on the chessboard or in boardroom meetings. He had never been the type to roll up his sleeves and get his hands dirty – there were always people for that sort of thing. Now, however, he stood with his sword poised at his side; the blade tip at a 45 degree angle to the cavern floor. The shallow light glinting off the sword edge made for a dazzling lightshow on the cave walls and kept the eye of the beast which lurked there.
The Lesser Jorogumo was a Siren; a name given to encantado demifae born of human and demifae copulation. This twisted union had birthed a creature that was part spider, part mortal; like the Devil’s own horrifying take on a mermaid. From the hips up, the creature took the form of a beautiful young woman. Its bare, porcelain skin was pearlescent in the dull light and it coated the seductive curves of its feminine body like a coating of molten metal. It was beautiful in the way that fine sculptures are likened; a desire to touch and pore over its features devoured the observer at first glance. Like skilled hunters setting out wooden ducks to lure in drakes, sirens lured men near using their own bodies as decoys. Once a naive person got within arm's reach of these beautiful creatures, however, their fair faces suddenly turned into fang-filled, insectoid maws, and what promising, unknown delights might be assumed to be hiding beneath those shapely hips became sharp, death-dealing talons.
Claude had no intention of being an entre for this beast, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that a stranger would come to rescue him from this fate. His shaped brows lifted when a flash of light sprung from the darkness, followed by a battle cry. The Jorogumo’s focus shifted not a moment before the javelin was jabbed toward it, leaving it no time to evade. The point connected with the creature’s oversized mandibles with a metallic thwack, causing no more real damage than accidentally striking one’s front teeth with a fork. The Jorogumo reared up and hissed as subsequent blows were fed its way, dodging the end of that sharpened stick. It was almost comical to watch, but Claude paid no more mind to the intervening warrior woman and instead, moved to coach the beast’s earlier victims from the ground.
“You cannot stay here,” he uttered, offering his free hand to the pair of them. “We have to leave. Come with me.”
The woman, who had clearly sustained a tibial fracture judging by the blood seeping into her combat trousers, shook her head aggressively. Her eyes were closed so tightly that it appeared her face had inverted. She held her knee and rocked back and forth, whimpering like a starving dog. The man at her side had a face full of sympathy and his large green eyes were begging Claude to have the same understanding. She could not move. Whatever pain she was in mattered little against the shock coursing through her, but if she would not stand and they could not chase away every beast that lived in Algonquin Caverns, then these two mortals would not survive. On closer inspection, it would appear that these two had some form of military training judging purely from their uniforms, but they still paled at the sight of a spider-human hybrid. Claude sighed, his brows knitting together. He looked to the male as their best chance of getting out of this mess.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“I… Yes. Yes, I can walk. But she can’t. We have to—”
“I will carry her, but you will need to stay near. I cannot protect you if you fall behind or run ahead. Do you understand?”
Claude spoke slowly and firmly, his deep voice flowing as silken as a river. Yet, while his English was perfect, he spoke somewhat mechanically as though he questioned their comprehension. Perhaps a leftover trait of his days as a CEO, Claude did not mince his words in important situations. He waited also until the man nodded his head and took his hand to help him to his feet. Next, he scooped their injured companion from the floor with inhuman strength and elegance. Her weight was seemingly insubstantial as he quickly positioned her in his arms as effortless as carrying a life-sized Barbie. Nevertheless, even this gentle movement caused the woman a great deal of pain and she yelped, catching the Jorogumo’s attention. The men froze. Claude looked to the woman with the javelin, his handsome features narrowed into a stern look.
“Are you sure you’re able to distract it?” he asked.
Claude would need to be convinced before he left the young woman to battle the beast.
The Lambert family had not come into money like many of the other gilded echelons of the upper classes and the elite of Hamburg; the industrialists, financiers, high government officials, and large landowners amongst many others. The Lambert family had forced their way into the circles of the elite. Social class in Germany is not only a matter of training, employment, and income but also a style of life, self-understanding, and self-display. The so-called bildungsbürgertum, or educated bourgeoisie of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, were characterised first and foremost by a particular constellation of artistic and literary tastes, habits, as well as cultural and ethical values. Suffice it to say, his education was stellar, he was attuned to the most highly praised musicians, artists, and literary geniuses, and he was indoctrinated into the ethics and procedures of his family. Claude’s life was to be a repeat of his forefathers, a legacy that ran for eternity as its resources, powers, and knowledge sired the next generation. Claude had not expected his life to be anything different to what he had been taught, and everything he had been taught since his childhood did not include giving his life to anyone other than his beloved family.
While Claude had moved away from his homeland, rejected his parents, the family business, and their fortune, he had not completely walked away from tradition. It came as a surprise to the German then that he had acted so quickly in this situation. Claude had positioned himself between the Jorogumo and its prey without much thought toward his own safety or misanthropic beliefs. Before arriving in Harper Rock City, the only kinds of skirmish that Claude had participated in were on the chessboard or in boardroom meetings. He had never been the type to roll up his sleeves and get his hands dirty – there were always people for that sort of thing. Now, however, he stood with his sword poised at his side; the blade tip at a 45 degree angle to the cavern floor. The shallow light glinting off the sword edge made for a dazzling lightshow on the cave walls and kept the eye of the beast which lurked there.
The Lesser Jorogumo was a Siren; a name given to encantado demifae born of human and demifae copulation. This twisted union had birthed a creature that was part spider, part mortal; like the Devil’s own horrifying take on a mermaid. From the hips up, the creature took the form of a beautiful young woman. Its bare, porcelain skin was pearlescent in the dull light and it coated the seductive curves of its feminine body like a coating of molten metal. It was beautiful in the way that fine sculptures are likened; a desire to touch and pore over its features devoured the observer at first glance. Like skilled hunters setting out wooden ducks to lure in drakes, sirens lured men near using their own bodies as decoys. Once a naive person got within arm's reach of these beautiful creatures, however, their fair faces suddenly turned into fang-filled, insectoid maws, and what promising, unknown delights might be assumed to be hiding beneath those shapely hips became sharp, death-dealing talons.
Claude had no intention of being an entre for this beast, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that a stranger would come to rescue him from this fate. His shaped brows lifted when a flash of light sprung from the darkness, followed by a battle cry. The Jorogumo’s focus shifted not a moment before the javelin was jabbed toward it, leaving it no time to evade. The point connected with the creature’s oversized mandibles with a metallic thwack, causing no more real damage than accidentally striking one’s front teeth with a fork. The Jorogumo reared up and hissed as subsequent blows were fed its way, dodging the end of that sharpened stick. It was almost comical to watch, but Claude paid no more mind to the intervening warrior woman and instead, moved to coach the beast’s earlier victims from the ground.
“You cannot stay here,” he uttered, offering his free hand to the pair of them. “We have to leave. Come with me.”
The woman, who had clearly sustained a tibial fracture judging by the blood seeping into her combat trousers, shook her head aggressively. Her eyes were closed so tightly that it appeared her face had inverted. She held her knee and rocked back and forth, whimpering like a starving dog. The man at her side had a face full of sympathy and his large green eyes were begging Claude to have the same understanding. She could not move. Whatever pain she was in mattered little against the shock coursing through her, but if she would not stand and they could not chase away every beast that lived in Algonquin Caverns, then these two mortals would not survive. On closer inspection, it would appear that these two had some form of military training judging purely from their uniforms, but they still paled at the sight of a spider-human hybrid. Claude sighed, his brows knitting together. He looked to the male as their best chance of getting out of this mess.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“I… Yes. Yes, I can walk. But she can’t. We have to—”
“I will carry her, but you will need to stay near. I cannot protect you if you fall behind or run ahead. Do you understand?”
Claude spoke slowly and firmly, his deep voice flowing as silken as a river. Yet, while his English was perfect, he spoke somewhat mechanically as though he questioned their comprehension. Perhaps a leftover trait of his days as a CEO, Claude did not mince his words in important situations. He waited also until the man nodded his head and took his hand to help him to his feet. Next, he scooped their injured companion from the floor with inhuman strength and elegance. Her weight was seemingly insubstantial as he quickly positioned her in his arms as effortless as carrying a life-sized Barbie. Nevertheless, even this gentle movement caused the woman a great deal of pain and she yelped, catching the Jorogumo’s attention. The men froze. Claude looked to the woman with the javelin, his handsome features narrowed into a stern look.
“Are you sure you’re able to distract it?” he asked.
Claude would need to be convinced before he left the young woman to battle the beast.
BLOOD THIEF | sorcerer
| Character Sheet |
| OOC: Claire |
-
Crawley (DELETED 11638)
- Posts: 48
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 03:55
Re: Strange Green [MM]
Thank goodness the man seemed to go quickly to get the people to leave. She didn't really feel like prolonging this...wacky fight against this half woman half spider creature. It was...a bit above what she was capable of taking down. She knew that full well she'd tried before on one occasion and had only really just managed to prove she could barely harm the thing. Though right now, that wasn't the point. The point was to hold it off.
Rebecca hadn't grown up in Harper Rock, she hadn't even grown up in Canada. In fact she came from Texas, America. She'd only been lucky that she'd ended up in Canada and found out about the strange things going on in Harper Rock from a friend, and it turned out to be the perfect thing to save her from her situation. She started thinking of powers to use, confuse, that was a good one. She focused to use it, it barely effected the thing at all. Ok, this was going to be an issue. There were some others that came to mind, celerity, but that could only help her move impossible fast and she couldn't really carry people with her when doing it. She used it lunging forwards very quickly and suddenly faster then the eye could see and then backing off if it the tip of the spear having only just barely cut into the leg of the being. That wasn't gonna help anything, it just seemed to make it really angry.
She heard the man ask if she was sure she could distract it, "Well not for long, my track record with these isn't great. Faster you can get them out or at least away from this the better because I am definitely going to lose if I don't run at some point." Rebecca said quickly. While she was actually quite afraid herself, a massive spider lady wasn't the most kind thing she got to see, she was more focused on getting them away. Then she could run as much as she wanted. She was fairly sure it couldn't catch her if she wildly used celerity to just crash down the hallways until she escaped.
Rebecca hadn't grown up in Harper Rock, she hadn't even grown up in Canada. In fact she came from Texas, America. She'd only been lucky that she'd ended up in Canada and found out about the strange things going on in Harper Rock from a friend, and it turned out to be the perfect thing to save her from her situation. She started thinking of powers to use, confuse, that was a good one. She focused to use it, it barely effected the thing at all. Ok, this was going to be an issue. There were some others that came to mind, celerity, but that could only help her move impossible fast and she couldn't really carry people with her when doing it. She used it lunging forwards very quickly and suddenly faster then the eye could see and then backing off if it the tip of the spear having only just barely cut into the leg of the being. That wasn't gonna help anything, it just seemed to make it really angry.
She heard the man ask if she was sure she could distract it, "Well not for long, my track record with these isn't great. Faster you can get them out or at least away from this the better because I am definitely going to lose if I don't run at some point." Rebecca said quickly. While she was actually quite afraid herself, a massive spider lady wasn't the most kind thing she got to see, she was more focused on getting them away. Then she could run as much as she wanted. She was fairly sure it couldn't catch her if she wildly used celerity to just crash down the hallways until she escaped.
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Claude Lambert
- Registered User
- Posts: 111
- Joined: 26 Feb 2018, 20:48
- CrowNet Handle: Followers to Stone
Re: Strange Green [MM]
As it happened, the young Blood Thief remained to be convinced about their heroine’s aptitude. Her confession instigated a tight knotting sensation in the pit of his stomach; a feeling he often attributed to regret. Claude prided himself on rarely making terrible decisions, but he was still Human, and the thought of leaving this woman to her grisly fate with the Lesser Jorogumo struck him as both illogical and terrible. He had stepped in to save these two mortals – for reasons he had yet to discern – but now faced the moral decision of potentially sacrificing one for the survival of two. The worst part of this debacle was that it needn’t have been this way at all. Had this woman not intervened, he would have been able to save the two virtually unheeded. He was perfectly capable of dispatching these Sirens single-handedly and might have done so in the very first instance had he not confused the female’s arrogance for expertise and valid confidence. Claude sighed angrily, but he was not yet out of actions; victory could yet be snatched from the jaws of defeat.
“I cannot, in good conscience, leave you here like this,” he stated and would not hear any arguments to the contrary.
Claude concentrated on the dead space between himself and the Jorogumo. He remembered the teaching of the Sorcerer who had spoken to him and articulated the words of summoning under his breath. The necromantic spell caused the column of air to shimmer and for a puissant swell of darkness to gather on the floor. The smell of sulphur, dirt, and ash leaked into the room like an imminent volcanic eruption – as if he had created a rift between the realms of Hell and Earth. In less than a second, the shimmering air had begun to sparkle and great forks of purple lightning trembled across the swollen egg-shaped shadows. The spell shortly gave birth to a heretical fiend; the undead carcass of a wolf instilled with the wild, savage power of Vampiric blood. The beast howled, stepping into the light and into range of the Jorogumo, as the shadows and purple energy dispersed back into nothingness.
Being physically drained by the summoning process, Claude paused to catch his breath and marvel at the abomination he had brought to the world. Although its skin had heavily degraded, its muscles and bone structure was in tact. It stood four feet to the shoulders and the massive head which sat on top looked little more than a vehicle of teeth. Its facial features had almost entirely sunken inward and only a portion of its right ear remained to give it the look of a wolf at all. The hell hound’s eyes were clouded over like two bowls of watered down milk, yet it seemed unaffected by a lack of sight. The sounds it made were not of this world, but Claude could only liken them to the crackling of embers and the crushing of soda cans. It lowered into a hunting stance with its tail, a whip of spiked bone, swaying ominously. The Siren adjusted to face this new threat and for a moment they engaged in a snarling contest.
“Let us make for the exit,” he commands; his amber eyes set on the woman with the javelin. “The beasts can deal with one another.”
He paused for nary a second longer then encouraged the mortals to leave with a nod of his head. The male wasted no time in complying with Claude's instructions and moved off two steps ahead of the Blood Thief. Claude would not wait much longer for the other female, believing that he had done all he could to assist. His priorities returned to getting the injured couple out of the caverns and possibly to the hospital.
“I cannot, in good conscience, leave you here like this,” he stated and would not hear any arguments to the contrary.
Claude concentrated on the dead space between himself and the Jorogumo. He remembered the teaching of the Sorcerer who had spoken to him and articulated the words of summoning under his breath. The necromantic spell caused the column of air to shimmer and for a puissant swell of darkness to gather on the floor. The smell of sulphur, dirt, and ash leaked into the room like an imminent volcanic eruption – as if he had created a rift between the realms of Hell and Earth. In less than a second, the shimmering air had begun to sparkle and great forks of purple lightning trembled across the swollen egg-shaped shadows. The spell shortly gave birth to a heretical fiend; the undead carcass of a wolf instilled with the wild, savage power of Vampiric blood. The beast howled, stepping into the light and into range of the Jorogumo, as the shadows and purple energy dispersed back into nothingness.
Being physically drained by the summoning process, Claude paused to catch his breath and marvel at the abomination he had brought to the world. Although its skin had heavily degraded, its muscles and bone structure was in tact. It stood four feet to the shoulders and the massive head which sat on top looked little more than a vehicle of teeth. Its facial features had almost entirely sunken inward and only a portion of its right ear remained to give it the look of a wolf at all. The hell hound’s eyes were clouded over like two bowls of watered down milk, yet it seemed unaffected by a lack of sight. The sounds it made were not of this world, but Claude could only liken them to the crackling of embers and the crushing of soda cans. It lowered into a hunting stance with its tail, a whip of spiked bone, swaying ominously. The Siren adjusted to face this new threat and for a moment they engaged in a snarling contest.
“Let us make for the exit,” he commands; his amber eyes set on the woman with the javelin. “The beasts can deal with one another.”
He paused for nary a second longer then encouraged the mortals to leave with a nod of his head. The male wasted no time in complying with Claude's instructions and moved off two steps ahead of the Blood Thief. Claude would not wait much longer for the other female, believing that he had done all he could to assist. His priorities returned to getting the injured couple out of the caverns and possibly to the hospital.
BLOOD THIEF | sorcerer
| Character Sheet |
| OOC: Claire |
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Crawley (DELETED 11638)
- Posts: 48
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 03:55
Re: Strange Green [MM]
Rebecca's made a bit of a face at the mention of not leaving her in good conscience. She'd already basically said she'd be fine at escaping, she just couldn't beat the thing or hold it off indefinitely. Him sticking around was just prolonging things. However her semi-irritating on the fact he was doing so vanished rather quickly as he started to show his powers, as the creature arose by his creation she realized he was either a vampire or a blood thief like her, he had to be. She was definitely not familiar with that particular power but hey it was definitely useful in this scenario. A creature that she would most certainly have found extremely disturbing not long ago, but which seemed almost normal now.
His breathlessness was rather missed to her, she was still just impressed at what had just happened. Man that would be a useful trick, whether or not the thing could beat the other monster was of only secondary concern it was a great way to get out of a fight.
She nodded as he said to make for the exit, she looked at the two humans and then back at Claude. He was already near the back, why not go to the front. She wasn't any kind of group fighter, in fact she'd never before done it. But she figured it'd be better if she was nearer to the danger then the other two, though Claude might be able to deal with it as well she imagined having seen that. But at least maybe they could cover both ends of the line this way.
"How'd you do that?" She'd ask quietly when they'd get nearer to the exit, slightly turning but keeping her eyes out for any other threats.
His breathlessness was rather missed to her, she was still just impressed at what had just happened. Man that would be a useful trick, whether or not the thing could beat the other monster was of only secondary concern it was a great way to get out of a fight.
She nodded as he said to make for the exit, she looked at the two humans and then back at Claude. He was already near the back, why not go to the front. She wasn't any kind of group fighter, in fact she'd never before done it. But she figured it'd be better if she was nearer to the danger then the other two, though Claude might be able to deal with it as well she imagined having seen that. But at least maybe they could cover both ends of the line this way.
"How'd you do that?" She'd ask quietly when they'd get nearer to the exit, slightly turning but keeping her eyes out for any other threats.
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Claude Lambert
- Registered User
- Posts: 111
- Joined: 26 Feb 2018, 20:48
- CrowNet Handle: Followers to Stone
Re: Strange Green [MM]
In the end, distance was all that mattered for the pair of injured military personnel. In spite of Claude’s orders to remain close, the male had taken off ahead and forced the Blood Thief’s hand. His concerns were torn in two as he lamented leaving the woman behind, but he also paled at the thought of allowing the unarmed mortal to rush into danger alone. Ultimately, he chose to follow the path of least resistance hoping that the female’s earlier confidence hadn’t been a complete illusion. Small, loose stones littered the floor causing the mortal to trip as he skirted by the rocky face of the cave walls to navigate a path. The cave was built into the muddy brown rock of a cliff in branching channels, carved out by ancient streams. The stones guarding the entrance were jagged and uneven, arranged in such a way that it would be difficult for passers by to spot. But from the inside, the glow of moonlight coated the path in liquid silver and caused those stalactites and stalagmites to glimmer like shark teeth.
They had made it from the belly of the beast without incident. The trio paused beyond the exit of the cave and the mortal lurched to catch his breath in the chilled, fresh air. Freedom raced over his own skin as a lover’s touch, providing cool, gentle relief, but his comfort was short-lived as he realised that the injured female remained unconscious in his arms. Claude was, however, pleased to find that his shadow had picked up a companion as they’d left the cave. He looked her way with a chaste, yet grateful smile; the lines of concern that had wrinkled his youthful features retreated like a passing storm. In the light of the crescent moon, Claude could discern her lovely features. She was traditionally beautiful; a muse for countless artists in love with the image of the perfect woman. And yet, she glowed with understated elegance, probably because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness.
“I will be more than happy to tell you about it later,” Claude said with a soft smile. “Though, I do believe that these two require medical assistance.”
“We have a camp,” wheezed the male soldier, drawing the Blood Thief’s focus. “Down in Wickbridge.”
The confession caused his brows to knot in the centre of his forehead. “What on Earth brought you two out here to begin with?”
The male looked to his injured companion; his grey eyes filled with concern and regret. When he spoke, the words spooled from him as fibreglass. “We were on a mission. There’s a shack out there in the woods we had to investigate. But, we got lost on our way. Shelley fell into a hole, broke her leg. I had to go in after her, didn’t I? That’s when those… things attacked us in the cave.”
“I see,” Claude murmured. His amber gaze had also focused onto the injured woman named Shelley.
“I can take her,” the soldier offered and he approached with his arms outstretched.
Claude looked him over cautiously, but nodded in agreement and they carefully exchanged responsibilities. Shelley moaned as her head pressed against her comrade’s soldier, almost as if she was aware on some level that she was safe.
“I’m Lawrence, by the way,” the soldier said and nodded his head to both Claude and the other woman. “Thank you both, for saving our lives.”
“Claude,” the Blood Thief returned.
He was curious about the identify of the lady with the haunting brown eyes. His own liquid-gold orbs looked upon her, but she was not obliged to share anything with them. For all intents and purposes, it seemed their affair was over, but the soldier still had one secret he had yet to reveal.
They had made it from the belly of the beast without incident. The trio paused beyond the exit of the cave and the mortal lurched to catch his breath in the chilled, fresh air. Freedom raced over his own skin as a lover’s touch, providing cool, gentle relief, but his comfort was short-lived as he realised that the injured female remained unconscious in his arms. Claude was, however, pleased to find that his shadow had picked up a companion as they’d left the cave. He looked her way with a chaste, yet grateful smile; the lines of concern that had wrinkled his youthful features retreated like a passing storm. In the light of the crescent moon, Claude could discern her lovely features. She was traditionally beautiful; a muse for countless artists in love with the image of the perfect woman. And yet, she glowed with understated elegance, probably because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness.
“I will be more than happy to tell you about it later,” Claude said with a soft smile. “Though, I do believe that these two require medical assistance.”
“We have a camp,” wheezed the male soldier, drawing the Blood Thief’s focus. “Down in Wickbridge.”
The confession caused his brows to knot in the centre of his forehead. “What on Earth brought you two out here to begin with?”
The male looked to his injured companion; his grey eyes filled with concern and regret. When he spoke, the words spooled from him as fibreglass. “We were on a mission. There’s a shack out there in the woods we had to investigate. But, we got lost on our way. Shelley fell into a hole, broke her leg. I had to go in after her, didn’t I? That’s when those… things attacked us in the cave.”
“I see,” Claude murmured. His amber gaze had also focused onto the injured woman named Shelley.
“I can take her,” the soldier offered and he approached with his arms outstretched.
Claude looked him over cautiously, but nodded in agreement and they carefully exchanged responsibilities. Shelley moaned as her head pressed against her comrade’s soldier, almost as if she was aware on some level that she was safe.
“I’m Lawrence, by the way,” the soldier said and nodded his head to both Claude and the other woman. “Thank you both, for saving our lives.”
“Claude,” the Blood Thief returned.
He was curious about the identify of the lady with the haunting brown eyes. His own liquid-gold orbs looked upon her, but she was not obliged to share anything with them. For all intents and purposes, it seemed their affair was over, but the soldier still had one secret he had yet to reveal.
BLOOD THIEF | sorcerer
| Character Sheet |
| OOC: Claire |