1} Reading all these rules several times is much appreciated. 2} Any questions at all (whether it be about this roleplay or why koalas sleep up to 19 hours a day) can be asked of the Black Hound's head honchos, Black_Hound_Mule, VEEB0MB3R, or bickz_. 3} When out of character (OOC), use some sort of identification (brackets, parenthesis, etc.) so everyone knows that you aren't in character (IC) mode. Otherwise, use the OOC thread. 4} Follow Gaia's ToS. 5} Respect is key here
- No godmoding. All deaths / wounds / "turnings" / etc. must first be approved by all involved before enacting.
- Don't be unnecessarily nasty to somebody or their character.
6} This is a semi-literate roleplay. Meaning, we use proper grammar when roleplaying and little to no text-talk in any case (ex. lol wtf u tlkin bout). We understand that some people are beginners and we are more than willing to give some constructive criticism or help anyone out with roleplaying. 7} We ask for reasonable PG-13 content.
- Romance and flirting are loved here, but too much is inappropriate for young eyes. Take 'that' to either PMs or use a time skip.
- Any and all fights should be conducted appropriately without destroying the tavern.
- Cussing is fine if it's infrequent, but keep extremely expressive language at a minimal.
8} Lastly, we have the right to add and change rules as seen fit. That does not mean, however, that we will bend rules unfairly to get people in unprovoked trouble. Here, we try to treat everyone fairly.
ρяσғɪʟє / єϻρʟσʏєє Яυʟєs *In addition to above rules.
9} Send all profiles via PM to Black_Hound_Mule with woof woof as the subject (to prove you have read these rules). 1o} Employees must post more frequently than customers (for obvious reasons). 11} It is the job of all employees to be part-time moderators of the thread so any and all violations of the rules must be reported to Black_Hound_Mule, VEEB0MB3R, or bickz_ and we will deal with the issue appropriately. If it is a direct violation of Gaia's TOS, report the person right away. 12} Any suggestions on profiles, plot, or the roleplay in general, we will be delighted to hear so send a PM to Black_Hound_Mule, VEEB0MB3R, or bickz_.
The Republic of Guīchéngan enormous city-sate in the East born from a mishmash of cultures allowed to grow over centuries. At its core the nation is a locale where the magical meets the mundane. A bizarre mixture of everything possible and seemingly impossible. For some the modern day megalopolis at the bleeding edge of everything is too much. Talk of sensory overload is rather common amongst those who find themselves in the city. For those overwhelmed relief is found in the several districts where the hustle and bustle of city life is foreign.
The most commonly referred area is Old Town. Seemingly sparred from the destruction that modernity brought over the rest of the city-state, Old Town is a more relaxed if rundown district where many a newcomer unadjusted or unable to adapt to their new surroundings can find sanctuary. In between the vast mix of ancient buildings and its inhabitants lays a well known business. Whenever a local is asked of the best drink and lodging available in Old Town they all answer, "Find the cobblestone streets and search for the Black Hound."
Found atthe very last cobblestone street in Old Town, the Black Hound Tavern is a stereotypical looking pub, not far from invoking childhood images of dark fairy tales. Entering through the large wooden door one would find themselves staring at an old flight of stairs, with a large door leading to two separate restrooms underneath it. To the left of the entrance, a small width of floor allows just enough room for a regal-looking bar to nestle with its extensive selection of drinks on display. The rest of the room is filled with worn tables and chairs, surely not enough to host the many guests of the establishment. If a drink and some bar grub doesn't suit one's fancy, they can instead ask for a room which are situated upstairs. The staircase at the entrance of the tavern leads to two floors above lined with doors. Each opens into variousstyles of rooms that seem to contrast against the aged appearance of the rest of the tavern with their modern fixtures. The place holds a little something for everyone; so why not come on in, grab a seat, and have a drink?
*If a long-term room is desired, please PM your requested room number to Black_Hound_Mule.
A bright, traveling line going 190 down that long stretch of road, smoke swirling behind the wheel of her Y2K Turbine Superbike as the atmosphere broke around her. She hardly slowed for the turns, tilting her weight towards the Earth and pivoting the bike in the desired direction as that rubber skidded, screamed. And she screamed with it.
Hell is round the corner.
Oh yeah. The Rolls-Royce 250-C20 turbo shaft engine. The top speed of 227 miles per hour. 320 horsepower, 52,000 rpm, and a 2-speed automatic transmission. This was one of the fastest bikes in the world, and it couldn't have been in better hands. She revved that engine and pushed the limits of the machine, swerving recklessly from one side of the road to the other until another turn granted her the thrill she was looking for.
We're hungry beware of our appetite.
Distant drums bring the news of a kill tonight.
Passing a detour she was just too curious not to take, she'd do a half doughnut to turn around and pull up to the trail. It wasn't quite as paved, so she had to take it slow, the bike wasn't made for off-roading by any means; it was a speed bike. She was reckless, but she wasn't stupid.
Dylan didn't care where this road took her, that never mattered. To end up somewhere was the goal. Here, there, anywhere. The dirt road led to another paved one, which led to another stretch of highway, which led ever onward to a city. A brand new city, a brand new game.
Welcome to The Republic of Guīchéng!
A city whose name she couldn't even pronounce. What more could she ask for?
Dylan drew into the denser parts of the city, where the streets became narrow and traveling by foot seemed to be favored. She skidded to a stop and let her leather boot connect with the ground, stirring the gravel below.
Her helmet stayed on for now, and one leg sheathed in tight leather swung over the side of the parked bike to bring her to her feet. The curvy figure wore a white halter top under her buckled leather jacket, and as she walked her bike among the bustling crowd with a sway to her step, she got more than one curious glance. It could of been the sexy bike, it could have been the curiosity irked by any figure wearing a helmet to hide their face, or it could have been the thick, spaded tail that curled and wreathed behind her like a playful whip, peeking through a conveniently cut hole in her leather bottoms.
Fear struck the heart of a few onlookers. They knew a demon when they saw one.
Parking her bike, Dylan didn't bother locking it up. Hell, she hoped someone would snag it and give her a good excuse to wreak a little havoc on this plane...not that she'd need one. She was sure there would be no shortage of sinners in this town.
There was a handful in every crowd, after all.
Her gloves were tugged off one at a time and tucked into one of the jacket's pockets as she opened the front doors a little forcefully, not bothering to remove her helmet or address anybody until she reached the bar, and it's tender.
It was here that those slender, tattooed fingers reading Hell Born across each knuckle would come up to grasp the shiny armor and pull it off, freeing a messy mohawk of short cherry-brown hair. On either side of her head were a set of black horns, made all the more prominent by the buzzed sides of her head. Her eyes were too dark to ignore, as if the light around them was pulled in and smothered by it's pitch. They playfully scanned the selection beyond the bartender (assuming there was one already), her tail lashing back and forth behind her thighs.
Head tilted, eyes narrow, she silently made her decision.
"So Uncle Ma finally took action." His voice filled the near empty bar with contemplation. "How long did it take the Overwatch?" The glass full of vodka and orange clinked! as it grazed the bottle of vodka before meeting his lips.
"We'll know by tomorrow." The older gentleman across from him said with a nod before finishing his tankard of beer. "The Wong brothers have saved for a rainy day. Wouldn't surprise me if they have goodies to make their slum by the sea a real shitstorm. Don't expect to sleep tonight boy. "
"Lovely." Brown orbs followed the rising patron as he pulled out his wallet. "No need Joe." A simple shake of the head followed as the co-owner followed suit and stood up. "This one is on the house officer." The gunrunner said to the crooked cop as the stranger came in.
"Best I leave ya to your work then Mr. Park." The police officer said as he tipped his peaked hat at the devil lady before leaving.
The sole person left seemingly went on with his life, ignoring the newcomer as she had the two men who had stopped conversing the second the door opened. The empty highball glass and tankard were picked up and set on the bar. As for the bottle of vodka, Mr. Park kept it in his right hand while making his way over behind the bar counter. The sealed bottle was opened once more and its clear contents poured into the man's glass before being replaced with a pitcher of fresh OJ. Once the mix was to the man's taste the pitcher returned back to the mini-fridge along side it's companion vodka.
At this point the 5'10 man of Asiatic descent dressed in a simple white dress shirt , jet black jeans and dress shoes finally looked up at the figure disturbing the near emptiness of his business. A quick glance was given to his wristwatch while his free hand grabbed his screwdriver. Tis was time to work then. Brown orbs settled on black eyes.
There was a stillness in the air, and her cherry lips parted to taste it between trenchant fangs. Pointed black nails drummed against the bartop in a smooth succession as her eyes glided from the liquors to the source of the voice that greeted her with a short and simple
And in this, he sealed his fate...many rules were suddenly lifted by the simple fact that she was now welcome in this establishment.
Why thank you, Mr. Park.
Her voice was actually voices, two separate but equal tones harmonized and spoken as one. The sound of it seemed to vibrate the empty space between them...had she heard the other gentleman speak his name?
She tilted her horned head towards him a touch.
She must have had a good ear, to catch such a thing...
"Would you like some vodka?" The fly asked the spider as he took a big gulp of his screwdriver and smacked his lips. Alas Mr. Park was too gone to note the discrepancies in front of him. When had he given her his name? Eh, he didn't remember. "Last bottle of the local stuff." Hmm... the vodka was overpowering the citrus, such a thing wouldn't do. No no, this wasn't right. Hands carefully moved to open the mini-fridge and grabbed the pitcher. "It's very strong I must forewarn you." Wait... he hadn't given the devil his name.
Hindsight be damned, Mr. Park was buzzed. The pitcher was drawn and it's sweet contents poured into the half drunk highball glass before he finally cared to react. The woman's voiced seemed to echo, a duet of sounds hit the Korean's ears as the alcohol killed any alarms that would've saved him from trouble. "..." The newly mixed cocktail was inspected. Sip. Sip. Another smack of the lips. A smile of satisfaction. Ah yes, the screwdriver was to his tastes. God was in his heaven, all was right in the world.
Sip. Sip. The stranger knew his name. Sip. Sip. He hadn't said his name. Sip. "We welcome all." The sting of paranoia finally hit. No one was suppose to know his name. Eyes widen only to relax as the vodka did it's job. The man knew no fear for liquid courage ran through his veins. "Even devils." Sip. Sip.