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Redford Blade
Crew

PostPosted: Sat Nov 03, 2007 1:04 am


Late afternoon in Los Angeles. The sun is steadily sinking towards the Pacific, its rays highlighting the haze of pollution hanging over the city. Traffic still crawls along the overpasses, as stagnant as the winds that normally sweep the valley air clean. This day is much like the others since you returned to Earth.

You feel a pressure in your head, insistent and sharp. It starts small, but rapidly expands, filling your whole consciousness within seconds. And you hear it.

ATTENNNNDDD MEEEEE

The voice is distant and cold, and you know instinctively that it is older than the stars. The voice fades away, and for a moment, you might try to convince yourself that it was merely a product of your fragile human brain trying to cope with its new occupant.

ATTEENNNDD MEEEE! PHELIADRON OF THE WITHERING VINE COMMANDS YOU.

It sears your mind, a wave of pain and hatred so intense that your senses fizzle out, leaving you trapped with the terrible voice. Worse, you can feel echoes of your True Name in the command, proof that disobedience will not be possible, let alone tolerated. The voice continues now, aware that it has your full attention.

IN THE HUMAN HIVE CALLED 'LOS ANGELES,' ONE OF MY LOYAL SERVANTS WAITS. ONE WEEK FROM NOW, AT NOON, SHE WILL STAND BEFORE THE EAST ENTRANCE OF THE MUSIC CENTER. THE ONE THAT SITS AT THE CORNER OF...

The voice pauses, as if conferring with someone, then returns with a smug tone.

THE CORNER OF 1ST AND HOPE. SHE WILL BE HOLDING A SIGN WITH MY TITLE UPON IT. OBEY HER AS YOU WOULD ME.

And with that, the pressure vanishes, but a residue of torment remains for several minutes.
PostPosted: Sun Nov 04, 2007 3:25 am


Isiac sits up and rubs his face, scraping the crud out of this eyes with a neglectedly long nail, noticing for the first time in several days the amount of hair on his chin, Isiac still wasn't used to this - the idea of being unable to change your appearance with a thought, but having to use the crude tools the humans had made for it.
Issac should know better of course, but Issac hadn't been the most reliable person beforehand...

After scrabbling for a few minutes to find a notebook only half full, he pulls himself to his feet, staggering into a bathroom "looks like I'll need a shower too" he mutters, nose wrinkling at the smell the human body gave off.

johnmcfloss


Darkness Cake

PostPosted: Tue Nov 06, 2007 9:48 pm


Serys was sleeping safely in the arms of Harold when the pressure in her mind started. At first, she assumed it was one of Sera's usual migraines until she heard a voice calling to her. She listened closely, and once the voice finished, she awoke with a start. Harold was leaning over her, a worried look on his face.

"Sera! Are you alright? You were crying out in your sleep!"
Serys nodded her head. "I'm fine, babe. But... uh... I think we might have to cancel our date next week."
"What? Why?"
"Let's just say... I have a feeling something is going to happen... something important..."

Harold nodded, knowing not to argue about Sera's feelings. She has never been wrong about anything or anyone before.

"Alright. We can reschedule." He kissed her softly before lying back down on the large bed they shared. "Now, lie back down... You're still recovering from sugery."

She smiled and crawled back under the covers. She wasn't looking forward to next week...
PostPosted: Wed Nov 07, 2007 10:59 am


"And how do you feel about that?"
"And how do you feel about that?"
"How does that make you feel?"

"This psychiatry stuff is easy.", muttered Ambriel under his breath as the last patient stepped out the door. He had been carrying on as Dietrich normally would for the past month or so, until he felt comfortable with this odd new world. He treated patients, went to a conference or two, and even made funeral arrangements for his late wife.

After a cup of coffee he checked the patient dossier and began to scan through Dietrich's memories. His eyes met the 4:30 appointment slot: John Sheldon. "Aha", Ambriel remembered, "this guy is a freak." Just then a wiry construction worker in his mid-thirties hurried through the door. Ambriel noted that he seemed rather normal at first glance, but he recalled that the facade would always stop as soon as he opened his mouth. John was a man with serious problems. In his sessions with Dietrich he spun homocidal and suicidal tales, drew disturbed pictures, and ranted about all things. The usual fare for someone with such deep anti-social tendencies.

Just as they took their seats Ambriel felt a sharp pain in his head. He jerked a bit, suprised, but continued to settle in his chair as it faded. "That was strange though." he thought. Not like the many other pains he'd experienced in this old body. Then, suddenly, a torrent of anguish flooded through his consciousness. He had only felt like this once before, a long time ago. Ambriel began to flail about, clawing at his head and cursing in ways not known to a human. A rage filled him as he stumbled backwards and bumped something. He spun around knocking a thick oak desk across the room and into a bookcase. He turned again and tossed a massive green oak chair at the wall where it stayed, embedded. The pain only grew hotter, and then, he felt his true name being spoken, almost uninterrupted. It was too much. A bright light began to shine from within the human host's body. Beneath the wrinkles emerged beautifully smooth skin pulled taut over a perfect musculature. His dull green eyes exploded into a myriad of colors. Where Dietrich one stood was a radiant being, Ambriel seemed to be hovering and when the pain finally subsided his legs were weak. Quickly he shifted back to the form of an old man and after a moment of pondering, grabbed his briefcase and began shoving important documents and files into it. He snatched a fedora and a suit jacket off the coatrack and hastily put them on. Even as his second arm was making its way through the narrows of the coat sleeve, he shuffled towards the door. So fast was he moving and so focused were his thoughts that he very nearly left Mr. Sheldon were he sat. Ambriel stopped beside John's chair but continued to look forward. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a bewildered and frightened stare. "I am going now...I think you should come with me.", said Ambriel coldly. "A-Anything.", stammered John, and with that he threw his arms around the old man's waist, sobbing. Ambriel was silent, but just briefly, a tiny smile crept into the corner of his mouth.

Abel Caldeira


Darkness Cake

PostPosted: Sat Nov 10, 2007 10:13 pm


Serys awoke on the Sunday morning before the appointed meeting, only to find that Harold was there in the bed beside her.
He must have driven over right after breakfast. He always likes to watch me… no, he likes to watch Sera, sleep.
She could taste the faith that this boy had for his beloved Sera, and part of her wanted it desperately. But, she still remembered Sera, still remembered the love these two people had once shared. It was wrong to keep Harold in the dark, keep him believing that the woman beside him was the woman he loved. But if he knew the truth…?

She reached out her hand to touch his face, and closed her eyes. She would send him a vision, a vision of what really happened during that surgery. She wove tendrils of faith together, taking her time, for there was no need to rush, and pressed them gently into Harold’s sleeping mind. Immediately, she saw his face twist into a grimace, and then tears welled up in his eyes. Serys felt her heart go cold, but before she could bring herself to wake him from the nightmare, his face relaxed, his breathing steadied. He blinked once, and seemed to wake up a little.

“G’morning, my dark-haired angel,” he slurred, still half-asleep, “I had a weird dream.”

“Was it…” Serys’ voice caught in her throat as she tried to remember that ‘angel’ was also a term of endearment, “Was it a nightmare?”

He pressed closer before answering. “Yeah? No… Nah, it wasn’t so bad. I dreamed you’d died, and an angel came. Made me sad, y’know?” Incongruously, he chuckled. “He-he-he, an’ then I thought, but Sera’s already an angel. So it made me feel better, ‘cause maybe you just never remembered that’s what you were.”

“Wait, say that again, Harry.”

“He-he, I can’t remember… I’m still asleep.”

But Serys had heard him the first time. Sera, I am so sorry. I promise I will never hurt him, but please, let me do this. Let me be you.

She whispered into his ear asking him what he wanted most. His answer didn’t surprise her, and given a moment to consider, she told him what she could do, what gift she could give if he would be hers, and hers alone.

In the depths of his sleep, Harold smiled and muttered, barely within Sera’s hearing, “I’m already yours.”
Abel Caldeira rolled 5 10-sided dice: 7, 5, 1, 7, 8 Total: 28 (5-50)
PostPosted: Sat Nov 17, 2007 2:30 pm


Ambriel toiled forward over grass and stone, the weight of Dietrich's wife's casket stretching his right arm. He felt strange carrying on like this. He reminded himself that it was just a primitive burial ritual, the fools. What did they know about such things as death? The priest spoke faithfully, family cried mournfully, and friends uttered empty apologies with heads bowed. Ambriel screamed obscenities in his mind, trying to force himself into a rage at the falseness of the situation. But it was he who was false and conscious of it. An aching grew steadily in his heart as he continued to battle with the feelings he had inherited upon entering this body.
......
As the bright moon crossed overhead, Ambriel sat in the cemetery on a cheap plastic chair at the foot of the freshly filled grave. Many a night over the past week had he spent here gazing at the magnificent headstone, realizing that it gave away his true feelings. A car horn sounded from the church parking lot, saving him from tears all too eager to escape. John's raspy voice called out "Dietrich, I've done everything you asked. It's all packed...where are we going."
"Los Angeles" yelled Ambriel. "And thats all you need to know for now." He paused for a moment and added "You've done well." Ambriel reflected that though antisocial, John was not a total loose cannon. In fact he enjoyed authority in certain respects. Mostly, he needed someone to love and show him that he was useful. These were the types of support that he never really had as a child and his mental state suffered dearly from it. As Ambriel approached his silver lexus he caught a glimpse of the moonlight shining off John's pleased grin at the threshold of the rolled down window. Ambriel fought to maintain a scowl, though the accuracy of his prediction pleased him greatly.

Rolling for knowledge of the earthbound lord: Intelligence + Legacy - 1 Penalty = 5
(if this doesn't work I will roll in one of the other threads)

Abel Caldeira


Redford Blade
Crew

PostPosted: Sat Nov 17, 2007 5:32 pm


User Image - Blocked by "Display Image" Settings. Click to show.
The Walt Disney Concert Hall and Music Center

A bright, sunny day. The past week's smog has been washed away by a merciful rainstorm brought in off the ocean. The winds are blowing, and the city is teeming with pedestrians once more, enjoying the excellent weather. Here in the heart of Downtown Los Angeles, a strange sight rises up from the ground. Seemingly forged from twisted ribbons of shining metal and the architectural genius of Frank Gehry, the concert hall defies most conventions of human architectural design. One visitor, however, finds that it reminds her of another, far more ancient place...

On the raised plaza set into the building's entryway, people bustle to and fro, their eyes focusing on their tickets, on the people next to them, or on the mind-bending shapes around them. They do not, for the most part, notice the woman seated behind the folding table, and even when they do see her, the sign nearby lets them know that she has nothing to do with them.

User Image

Association of the Withered Vine? Judging by the crudely-made pamphlets lying on the table, it is Alcoholics Anonymous' poor cousin. But then, judging by the woman behind the table, perhaps it could give AA a run for its money. Even seated, she is visibly alert, her brown eyes scanning faces as they pass, an eager smile resting on her lips. The green vest, pants, and brown t-shirt she wears do nothing to conceal the definition in her biceps, the healthy tan of her skin. A green baseball cap, sporting the AWV logo, completes her spokesperson demeanor. She seems to be waiting for something.
PostPosted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 10:12 am


(is it us she's waiting for?)

johnmcfloss


Redford Blade
Crew

PostPosted: Mon Nov 26, 2007 11:54 pm


OoC: >> Doh! Yes, I should probably have mentioned that she is the one you are looking for. She stands out to your characters' supernatural senses, and when approached, she will recognize you.

I had rather hoped... well, the 'withered vine' reference and all...

Anyway, don't keep her waiting. wink
<<
PostPosted: Wed Nov 28, 2007 4:48 pm


Serys kissed Harold gently before heading out. He stayed over again last night, worried about her. "I, hopefully, won't be gone long." She whispered to her sleeping mate. As she headed out the door, she made sure she grabbed her coat, purse, keys and cellphone... just in case.

She hopped into her red Lancer and sped off toward the music center. She wasn't sure if anyone else was going to be there, besides the one she was to meet and she didn't really care all that much. She parked the car in a nearby parking garage and walked into the building. She looked around and managed to catch sight of the logo and then the woman behind it. She looked... well... a lot more important than the humans took her for. After taking a deep, calming breath, she stood up straight and walked over to the woman.

Darkness Cake


Redford Blade
Crew

PostPosted: Mon Dec 03, 2007 10:12 pm


Dark eyes seem to catch Serys' movements, and a manic smile splits the woman's face. She leaps to her feet and hurries around the table, grabbing Serys in a painfully strong bear hug. The strange woman's muscles stand out clearly.

Her voice is loud and friendly, as if reuniting with a childhood 'BFF'. "Oh, it is sooo good to see you, Ser," she says with eyes twinkling, "The Master of the Vine told me your Name, but instructed me not to use it until I'd met you in person." In a conspiratorial whisper, as if passing on a secret just between girls, "I'm Rampel, Knight of the Crumbling Wall."

Suddenly, her volume is back on 'loud'. "We're going to have sooo much fun! Just wait until the others get here!"

OoC: >> Rampel knows your Celestial Names, thanks to Pheliadron. Your characters may or may not have met her before, during the War, depending on a Legacy + Intelligence roll. See the Out of Character thread for details on the roll. <<
PostPosted: Thu Dec 06, 2007 10:47 am


sunuva... I got half way through this, forgot and closed the window

Isiac stands across the road in a crowd of students, arcitects and artists - both of them found something to be learnt from the building. One of them glimpsed over his shoulder and gasped.
"I once knew someone who lived in a building like this" Isiac smiled whistfully, as the man backed away "when the wind blew right, the walls screamed the most delectable music" The man fled into the crowd and Isiac sighs, slipping the notebook back into his pocket and hurrying across the road.

johnmcfloss


Abel Caldeira

PostPosted: Sun Dec 16, 2007 2:42 am


Ambriel sunk deeper into his back row seat and reclined his head emitting a small sigh. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. Disjoint instrumental noises pierced the air as a german orchestra prepared their instruments and warmed up their hands. He had come to a performance at the Walt Disney Concert Hall to scout it out, plan for next day ahead, and to meditate, though he also entertained the prospect of spending some time to relax.

As the music began to play he could see it in his head clearly. He ran with it, tasted it, wrapped it around himself. He played games with the notes, rearranging them in thousands of ways, remembering the time before time.
........
Ambriel walked the few blocks from his hotel room to the concert hall. The sun beat down on the crowded sidewalks and stifled the air like a fat bully sitting on his victim's chest. He navigated the thousands of anonymous individuals and crossed the street onto the concrete mini-plaza at the base of the music center's steps noting that it looked even more horrific in the light. "Like a series of deformed prismatic shapes fell out of the sky randomly...Its hit or miss with these humans", he thought, remembering the previous night's performance. He had left John at the hotel and wondered briefly if he should have brought him along, perhaps, planted him in the crowd to observe. He breathed deeply and walked up the stairs, immediately noticing the tacky display at the top. Deciding to not waste any time, he approached the table cooly. Ambriel spoke dryly, "Perhaps you have some literature I could read."
PostPosted: Mon Dec 17, 2007 5:32 am


The woman, now known as Rampel, pivoted on her heel, shifting her focus from Serys to this newcomer. Immediately, the bubbles were gone, and she was cool as stone, her face pleasant but impassive.

"Why, yes sir." There was a light to her eyes, one which suggested knowledge of a secret that she didn't intend to share. "If you like," she withdrew a pamphlet from a stack in front of her, "you can read this while we wait for the last member of our little group. I am Rampel, and it will be my duty to guide you in our quest for freedom from our burdens."

Redford Blade
Crew


Redford Blade
Crew

PostPosted: Fri Feb 08, 2008 9:34 pm


OoC: >> Now that Abel Caldeira has returned, it seems we've lost John McFloss. We'll move the plot along, and hope he comes back. <<

Suddenly, Rampel breaks eye contact with Ambriel, focusing on a spot over his shoulder. Yes, he is here...

"I see our fourth member has arrived."

She yanks the poster off its stand, stuffs it into a duffel bag, and then does the same with the contents of the table. Within seconds, it is as if she had never been there.

"Please, follow me." There is a note of absolute command in her words, a suggestion that you would never think to do otherwise. She strides off through the crowd, and Ambriel and Serys hurry after as she descends the stairs to the street. Here, there is no cover from the hot sun, and pedestrians scurry about from one puddle of shade to another. One person, however, stands still, a disheveled man who somehow appears more real than the mortals surrounding him.

"This is Isiac," Rampel says by way of introduction, "Isiac, these are Serys and Ambriel. And you may call me Rampel." Once more, her mannerisms have changed. She shows no hesitation in speaking their Celestial Names amidst countless humans, nor does she even seem to notice that anyone exists aside from the four elohim on the street corner.

"I have a car in the garage. We can get to know one another at my apartment while we discuss the agenda for this evening. Come along." Now you recognize that note of command. She weaves a portion of your True Names into her speech. It is not enough to control you utterly, but even that small bit of power serves as a potent threat.

Several minutes pass in silence as she leads you into the parking garage, its dark interior a merciful respite from the heat outside. Her car, you soon see, is a nondescript blue SUV, possibly a Ford Expedition. Where most such vehicles would have their make and model emblazoned on the side or back hatch, this one has clearly had such identifying text removed, and the license plate is a mere placeholder reading, "Tag Applied For".
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Demon: the Fallen

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