Title: The Finding Quest
------------------------------
Characters: Byzantium, Galia
Byzantium must post first, outlining a story on the following theme (feel free to get creative):
Setting: A deserted alleyway
Backstory: The group were looking for somebody (some or all characters).
Occurance: sirens approach and ask for something very unexpected.
Variable: Byzantium is naked for some reason.
Participants: 2
ARES: no
Speed: very slow
Chapter: no
Minimum Words Per Post: 100
Maximum Words Per Post: none
------------------------------
This thread was generated via the Roleplay Matchmaking System.
The Finding Quest [MM]
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Byzantium
- Registered User
- Posts: 10
- Joined: 03 May 2019, 17:39
Re: The Finding Quest [MM]
The eagle dominated the gloomy midnight sky, spreading his wings as broad as they were black. He passed by with speed enough to be mistaken for just another large bird; his feathers flickered burnished gold by the light of streetlamps and windows. In his talons he carried a large rabbit; its limp body hanging like a furry sock from his grasp. When he came into roost, he sought the solitude of Veil Tower’s rooftop. His treasure was dropped first, landing like a sack full of wet sand on the gravel flooring, as his great wings cut the air to slow his approach. Within moments, his long yellow legs stretched out toward the ground, and as those muscles thickened and skin paled and softened into pink, supple skin, those three inch talons retracted and became a milky white veneer over flattened pads. The eagle’s golden feathers melted away from his body like dissolving candyfloss too, revealing a body that was bare, yet firm and readily humanoid.
The transmogrified man landed on the rooftop next to his prey; the glassy, grey stones crunched between his toes and shifted with his weight as he moved. He bent to retrieve the rabbit before moving toward the rooftop door and slipping inside. The hallways leading to and from the elevator were pleasantly lit and decorated, but more importantly, were vacant. Although he was not embarrassed by his nakedness, he was concerned by the questions his state would raise with any witnesses. He stalked toward his apartment, ensuring that no bloody fingerprints were left behind on his door as it was closed and bolted behind him. The rabbit was brought to the kitchen and dropped into the sink where its head lolled toward the plughole and its hindlegs projected like furry flags at the sink rim. He disregarded it with a derisive growl, as though someone or something else had deposited the corpse into his sink, and retreated to his bedroom.
The Killer walked leisurely to the shower and turned the knob that unleashed the man-made waterfall. Steam filled the room as the hot water lashed against the chilled ceramic floor and he breathed it into his still-dead lungs. He stepped in under the pounding spray and bathed his skin lightly, taking careful notice not to touch the bruises that scattered his body - the remnants of wounds only hours old. Yet, the night was still young and there was much more work to be done before he could retire for one day. Byzas bathed until the blood covering his arms, face, throat, and torso were thoroughly cleansed and the rusty liquid had washed away clear. After his shower was over and he returned to his room to get dressed, he left the apartment through the front entrance and returned to the night-drenched streets.
Historically, urban alleyways are often places of dangers or sources of shame. They have long been associated with crime, incivilities, and undesirable behaviors. They can attract offenders because of the perceived likelihood of available crime opportunities and provide a convergence for motivated offenders and potential targets in the absence of capable guardians. They may facilitate crime through providing inconspicuous access to alley-adjacent properties and a means by which to escape and evade detection. In short, alleyways can provide tempting and convenient sites to illegally discard waste, conduct arson, trade goods, and commit graffiti. However, an alleyway is just a place - a space between two buildings. Some are not quite streets, but still thoroughfares; not private, but not public enough to feel protected; backdrops to crime, or filled with trash heaps. How they are used is sometimes irrelevant depending on the person in question. Byzas, for example, rarely felt as if his life was endangered as he cut through the alleys on the way to a destination.
The Killer was somewhat too tall for his build; were he a few inches shorter he would have been all the more handsome for it. Yet he wasn't lanky, there was still bulk on him; solid muscles existed plentifully beneath that charcoal polo neck and aviator jacket combo. He walked in long, slow strides that caused his dark grey jeans to bunch and stretch, while the white rubber soles of his black Bradstreet Chukka boots absorbed the sound of every step. His face was mostly obscured by a groomed beard that clung to his olive skin like a covering of dark brown moss. A swathe of dark hair had been brushed and gelled back over his crown, but it was clearly long enough to fall past his intelligent brown eyes if unrestrained. Byzas carried an air of mystery with him as he continued to walk the channels of deserted alleyways, and yet there was an ominous stain in his aura. It was not something obvious enough that could be readily detected by everyone he passed, but he had spooked a cat.
The Vampire paused to the sound of hissing, he bent his long frame and locked eyes with the feline crouching behind a dumpster. Dirt stained her matted coat, knotted and twisted with months of neglect. The bony edges of her ribcage protruded from her chest, as her underfed frame looked like a furry slinky stood on one of its end. The dark rings of her fur twisted and shifted in the shadows as she tried to make herself larger, puffing and hissing. Those lonely eyes were like discs of gold surrounding black holes, and for a moment at least, Byzas felt himself pulled into the depths. Straightening, he laughed under his breath. How incredible it was that small things could make such the fuss…
The transmogrified man landed on the rooftop next to his prey; the glassy, grey stones crunched between his toes and shifted with his weight as he moved. He bent to retrieve the rabbit before moving toward the rooftop door and slipping inside. The hallways leading to and from the elevator were pleasantly lit and decorated, but more importantly, were vacant. Although he was not embarrassed by his nakedness, he was concerned by the questions his state would raise with any witnesses. He stalked toward his apartment, ensuring that no bloody fingerprints were left behind on his door as it was closed and bolted behind him. The rabbit was brought to the kitchen and dropped into the sink where its head lolled toward the plughole and its hindlegs projected like furry flags at the sink rim. He disregarded it with a derisive growl, as though someone or something else had deposited the corpse into his sink, and retreated to his bedroom.
The Killer walked leisurely to the shower and turned the knob that unleashed the man-made waterfall. Steam filled the room as the hot water lashed against the chilled ceramic floor and he breathed it into his still-dead lungs. He stepped in under the pounding spray and bathed his skin lightly, taking careful notice not to touch the bruises that scattered his body - the remnants of wounds only hours old. Yet, the night was still young and there was much more work to be done before he could retire for one day. Byzas bathed until the blood covering his arms, face, throat, and torso were thoroughly cleansed and the rusty liquid had washed away clear. After his shower was over and he returned to his room to get dressed, he left the apartment through the front entrance and returned to the night-drenched streets.
Historically, urban alleyways are often places of dangers or sources of shame. They have long been associated with crime, incivilities, and undesirable behaviors. They can attract offenders because of the perceived likelihood of available crime opportunities and provide a convergence for motivated offenders and potential targets in the absence of capable guardians. They may facilitate crime through providing inconspicuous access to alley-adjacent properties and a means by which to escape and evade detection. In short, alleyways can provide tempting and convenient sites to illegally discard waste, conduct arson, trade goods, and commit graffiti. However, an alleyway is just a place - a space between two buildings. Some are not quite streets, but still thoroughfares; not private, but not public enough to feel protected; backdrops to crime, or filled with trash heaps. How they are used is sometimes irrelevant depending on the person in question. Byzas, for example, rarely felt as if his life was endangered as he cut through the alleys on the way to a destination.
The Killer was somewhat too tall for his build; were he a few inches shorter he would have been all the more handsome for it. Yet he wasn't lanky, there was still bulk on him; solid muscles existed plentifully beneath that charcoal polo neck and aviator jacket combo. He walked in long, slow strides that caused his dark grey jeans to bunch and stretch, while the white rubber soles of his black Bradstreet Chukka boots absorbed the sound of every step. His face was mostly obscured by a groomed beard that clung to his olive skin like a covering of dark brown moss. A swathe of dark hair had been brushed and gelled back over his crown, but it was clearly long enough to fall past his intelligent brown eyes if unrestrained. Byzas carried an air of mystery with him as he continued to walk the channels of deserted alleyways, and yet there was an ominous stain in his aura. It was not something obvious enough that could be readily detected by everyone he passed, but he had spooked a cat.
The Vampire paused to the sound of hissing, he bent his long frame and locked eyes with the feline crouching behind a dumpster. Dirt stained her matted coat, knotted and twisted with months of neglect. The bony edges of her ribcage protruded from her chest, as her underfed frame looked like a furry slinky stood on one of its end. The dark rings of her fur twisted and shifted in the shadows as she tried to make herself larger, puffing and hissing. Those lonely eyes were like discs of gold surrounding black holes, and for a moment at least, Byzas felt himself pulled into the depths. Straightening, he laughed under his breath. How incredible it was that small things could make such the fuss…
necromancer | KILLER | allurist
| Character Sheet |
| OOC: Claire |
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Galia
- Registered User
- Posts: 36
- Joined: 05 Feb 2020, 23:54
- CrowNet Handle: Anonymous
Re: The Finding Quest [MM]
Galia stood, arms outstretched as she poured the blood into the strange carvings into the ground. Her hair was braided on her neck, she wore on her a cloak of fur, set upright in the ground to one side was her sword, and in the other her firearm. Her eyes seemed to gleam as she took ashes and piled it into the center. Every breath let out a mist of warm air, a sign of her humanity. Her eyes seemed to gaze beyond the archaic creation before her, as if it were a portal to another world.
Words left her mouth, a prayer perhaps. An offering. The ashes of a vampire, and the blood of a feral. She put herself on the ground, completely facedown before the offering in an absolute bow, before rising again and going back down. her eyes always seeming to see something which was not there. She stayed there for nearly an hour before she finally rose again, the slightest tug on one cheeck in a sort of completed smile before she withdrew the sword from its place, and she set out. The forest was a dense place and many creatures hid here. Galia was still becoming stronger, but for now she was still weak compared to many vampires.
However, that didn't stop her from planting traps. Or taking on the weaker of the groups. It was true that her skills were more suited for that of a thief. Unfortunately, her weaker self had always opted for such shadowy tactics. While Galia didn't like them, she was willing to employ them when necessary. Traps and spy cameras and thievery were not the ways of a warrior as she wished to be, but they could be those of an assassin, and sometimes that may be necessary.
She hid her weapons beneath the thick coat. Along with some...clever contraptions. Wrapped to keep them from jingling with her movement. And so she began to tread through Harper Rock, her eyes wandering from place to place. Searching, thinking. Places where she could set cameras or traps. Places where those filthy maggots called undead might hide their pale and corrupt faces.
Words left her mouth, a prayer perhaps. An offering. The ashes of a vampire, and the blood of a feral. She put herself on the ground, completely facedown before the offering in an absolute bow, before rising again and going back down. her eyes always seeming to see something which was not there. She stayed there for nearly an hour before she finally rose again, the slightest tug on one cheeck in a sort of completed smile before she withdrew the sword from its place, and she set out. The forest was a dense place and many creatures hid here. Galia was still becoming stronger, but for now she was still weak compared to many vampires.
However, that didn't stop her from planting traps. Or taking on the weaker of the groups. It was true that her skills were more suited for that of a thief. Unfortunately, her weaker self had always opted for such shadowy tactics. While Galia didn't like them, she was willing to employ them when necessary. Traps and spy cameras and thievery were not the ways of a warrior as she wished to be, but they could be those of an assassin, and sometimes that may be necessary.
She hid her weapons beneath the thick coat. Along with some...clever contraptions. Wrapped to keep them from jingling with her movement. And so she began to tread through Harper Rock, her eyes wandering from place to place. Searching, thinking. Places where she could set cameras or traps. Places where those filthy maggots called undead might hide their pale and corrupt faces.