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 Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2014 4:39 pm
A Public Service Announcement:
Let's Review.
Thornwick Combat Guidelines Real fighting is messy, brutal, and without coordination; people (including you) will get hurt. (Here’s a video to put things into perspective: Expectations vs Reality with Ryan Higa). While some of our characters are more or less human, with abilities straight out of a comic-book/movie, there must be a foundation of reality to keep the story-line interesting. Below, are things to remember: 1. If your character(s) can dish it out, they’d better damn well take a few hits. 2. In this RPG: If you are human, you bleed; if you are machine, you can be hacked or broken. Plain and simple. Update: 05/26/2014 3. Don't assume that your character is stronger than the other. It doesn't matter if your character spent years training on a mountain top, with a master who decided that they were worthy of all his kung‐fu secrets; or if they were a genetically engineered super soldier, who knows a thousand and one ways to gut you and macrame your entrails into a pair of shorts. If their opponent is twice their size and weight, they're outmatched when it comes to strength. (In this RPG, the exception may be made with androids and cyborgs, but even they have their limits.) Remember: everyone has their limits, and there is always someone better than them. 4. In this RPG, I had you omit your characters weapons from their profiles; that doesn’t mean they become some Jack of All Trades. Update: 09/08/2014 Weapon experience has been added to some of the characters' abilities and special skills. The first weapon that they use should be the weapon they use for the rest of the RPG, until they come across the means for an upgrade (e.g. Their original weapon broke, so they're in the market for a new/better one.). Also, don’t shift abilities on them (i.e. The Walking Dead—I don’t think Daryl Dixon can handle Michonne’s katana half as well as he can handle a crossbow). Additionally, their first weapon shouldn’t be some item of devastating capacity (e.g. “Ultimate Sword That Slays Everything Under The Sun, Moon, & Stars”). 5. This isn’t dodge-ball. Constantly dodging gets real annoying, real fast (as a result no one would really want to engage with you or your character). Avoid this by throwing in a few blocks and counter-attacks. Update: 05/26/2014 This also counts for dodging and attacking in the same move: DON'T OVERDO IT. 6. Don’t treat melee fights like an anime (You know, the scenes with twenty baddies against the good guy, and he takes ‘em all down with just a slash of his sword?). If a small group of, say, eight [NPC]s attack your character, they’d probably be able dominate over three – five, and even then they won’t leave unscathed. Don’t believe me? Try it out for yourself and take on eight guys (20 if you’re feeling especially rowdy), and see how well you’re doing by the end of it. 7. Don’t always assume your attacks are on target. Like dodging, if your characters’ attacks always make their mark, no one will want to role-play with you. Give your fellow players a chance to react to the attack (dodge, block, counter, or run). 8. Elaborate your attacks. I’m not talking about flashy moves like the ones you see on Tekken or Bleach (please, no); I mean, be specific. Posting “I fire at you with my .45” isn’t enough; your fellow player will wonder “Well, what are you aiming at? My head? My arm? That random guy in the Barney suit?”. To avoid conflict between players be specific. 9. There is no shame in running. Again, this isn’t an anime—if you are gravely outnumbered, don’t think that your character, on berserk mode, will take care of the problem; after that burst of energy, they’ll feel even more drained—and, well, you just screwed them, didn’t you? If your character has taken all that they could possibly take, let them run; this will allow them to get to a safe place to lick their wounds, come up with a plan, etc. 10. There are to be no outright deathblows. Examples like this “My arm snakes through an opening at your side, dealing a killing blow as my dagger plunges into your ribs blah-blah-blah” had better not show up in fight scenes. If a character is to die, it must be discussed between the players and agreed on. 11. Accept defeat. If players have agreed that one of their characters must die, accept it. Bullet to the head, knife to the heart, a slash to a major artery: your character is dead. While fantasy does offer some means of revival, don’t count on it to happen all the time; even then, being rescued from death comes at a heavy price (ex. Khal Drogo, Game of Thrones). Update: 05/26/2014 This also counts for being outnumbered with your character at their physical limit and with no means of escape; accept defeat and surrender. 12. Do not—and I repeat, do not—edit your attacks/posts after your fellow player has responded to that post. The results of doing so are obvious. If there is something that must be edited, some conditions must be met: 1) Make sure your fellow player hasn’t posted yet, 2) Strike out the original post and include a notation that the post is undergoing some revision, 3) Contact your fellow player, informing them of the revision (pm, comments, status, or quoting them in the post that’s to be edited, etc.). Additional Sources: Barton OOC on Battling|| So You Wanna Take It Outside?|| The AntiMunch Project
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2014 8:48 pm
The headline crawled across Zedd’s line of vision in bold, orange text: Flu Season Makes An Early Arrival. Raising his hand, the Gardener flicked his finger at headline and the full article appeared: Quote: An epidemic swept Bernadine just this past weekend, plaguing all three islands with, what scientists are suspecting, a new strain. While doctors recommend receiving the vaccination before the start of the fall season, it is strongly advised that citizens, who haven’t received their flu shots, do so immediately. The CDC assures Bernadine that an investigation has already begun, but encourages that proper hygiene measures be taken in order to prevent the spread of the illness. The virus has claimed eighteen citizens, among whom was Ezra’s fresh senatorial candidate, Richard Gladrow, and Tippen Motors CEO, Martin Motts… Blinking the article into the void, Zedd focused his attention on the stunning blonde seated across him. Dressed in an bustle dress designed for travel, Trikks looked nothing like the woman who squatted at the house on Sweeney and Todd, three days ago. Gone was the unkept blush-colored tresses, replaced by threads of gold arranged in an elegant updo. There was a slight rosiness to her cheeks, and her eyes shone a vibrant green. If she hadn’t approached him at the skyport (she’d gone by Missy, one the aliases Zedd had down for her), he wouldn’t have guessed she was the same woman who’d completed twelve assignments in three hours. The Gardener threw one, long leg over the other, his hands lacing together on his lap: “You chose the ricin.” The number of people, the limited time-frame, the flu-like symptoms--ricin was the only explanation for how she’d done it. All it would take was some slight of hand over food or drink, a few particles in the air current, or stealthy injection disguised as clumsy pedestrian on the sidewalk: that’s all it would take; once the poison was in the system, the victim would think they’d come down with a bad case of the flu, then meet their end three to five days later. Zedd had to admit that even he wouldn’t have thought to use it to that extent. Trikks kept her gaze on the grassy fields beyond the carriage window: “You’ll need to make more.” “I wouldn’t need to had you not exceeded the number of appointments. I distinctly remember saying twelve.” “Collateral damage. Besides, some of them were actually ill. The extra numbers only served to make the epidemic more believable.” She met his goggled stare then. “If you’re dissatisfied with the way I carried out my services then you should’ve seen to them yourself.” “As I told you, I’d suddenly found myself otherwise occupied.” It was Zedd’s turn to avert his gaze then. “And I never said I was dissatisfied.” Trikks regarded him for a moment then returned her attention to the window. Outside, the valley glowed with the vibrance of summer: rich jewel-toned greens and warm golds. As beautiful as summer was, the temperature was a different story. Zedd was grateful for the comfort of an aircondition carriage; even the blades outside glinted with the sun’s heat. Unlike Zedd, Levi loved summers. The poppies would be in full bloom. “How much longer until we get there?” As if to answer Trikks’ question, Zedd spied flecks of red imposing on the green fields, gradually at first then a steady flow until the green phased into a blanket of blood red. “Not long, now.” Leaning forward, the Gardener knocked on the panel behind Trikks. A piece of the panel slid away to reveal Quentin, clicking excitedly. Despite Zedd’s orders to stay behind, the little droid managed to hitch a ride without detection and met with Trikks at the skyport, first. Then, he stowed away in her skirts--choosing to reveal himself once they were in the air. By then, it was too late. Zedd saw little point in staying angry at something he was more or less stuck with. “Move aside, Quentin.” The robotic scarab obeyed. “Nearly there, Pendergast.” With that, Zedd returned to his seat, trusting that the butler would recognize the end of their journey. How could he not? The Poppy House was the only house in the entire valley. ~*~ Wiping the sweat off his brow, Constantine monitored the gauges and dials closely. Despite Bloody’s assurances that the zeppelin “works fine”, they ran into some technical difficulties about two-thirds into their journey. He’d spotted some concerns while crossing the Reykjagler Ocean: the engine showed signs of overheating. As Constantine predicted, the excursion proved too much for the little zeppelin. He was just grateful they’d reached Brentmoore’s north-eastern shores when the engine finally gave out on them. It only took a quick journey to the town of Drewry for the parts needed to repair their aircraft. Fixing it took hours, but they were back in the air and on their way to the Ridge. To avoid anymore delays, the inventor advised that they keep the ac off. Even after reaching Leviathan Ridge, Annalyn still wasn’t just a hop, skip, and a jump away--and, even then, Constantine learned that their destination wasn’t the city itself but a valley thirty miles out from it. The summer heat made the journey almost unbearable. Though the zeppelin was one of his “babies”, the inventor couldn’t wait to put his feet on solid ground. There was nothing to see except a dirt road cutting through a sea of green grass for some time. Then he saw them: specks of red gradually giving way to clumps then patches then eventually... Poppies. Millions of them, all nestled in one valley, each one the color of blood. Nowhere else had the inventor seen so many. Constantine depressed the switch to the PA system. “Good afternoon. This is your captain speaking. ETA to our destination is fifteen minutes. Last call for the lavatory begins now. If you don’t need to ‘go’, please secure your belongings in the overhead compartments or beneath the seats in front of you. One of our friendly flight staff will be going around to collect in garbage you may have incurred during the flight. We ask that you secure your seatbelts, sit back, relax, and enjoy the rest of the flight. Thank you for flying with the Clock Tower.”
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Darkerdemons Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2014 11:48 pm
“Sir.” Alex nodded before sliding the panel back in place. A drop of sweat trickled down the side of his neck before running along his collar bone. Unlike the inside of the carriage, the driver’s seat was more at the mercy of the weather. It wasn’t completely unprotected, due to the retractable cover that arched over the seat. There was also a heater beneath the seat for colder days and a removable fan for warmer days; the latter was on its highest setting, releasing a steady whir as it tried to keep the driver cool. Alex was certainly better off with the fan than without, but the heat still left him with a damp shirt and pants. Fortunately, Alex had the wisdom to change into his casual outfit at the train station. His uniform remained clean and crisp inside his bag. He couldn’t do much about the beads of sweat on his skin or his damp hair. Providing the place they were going had the necessary utilities – he assumed it would based on what he’d learned of Zedd’s tastes – he would make himself more presentable when he had the time. Ten minutes later he rounded a hill and saw the house. Transferring the reins to one hand, Alex lifted his spectacles, which currently had their small shaded lens clipped on, and blinked a few times. Due to the redness of the poppies and the similar color of the house, he almost thought the building was a mirage or some other trick of the light. The structure remained despite his attempts to clear his vision. As the carriage drew closer to the house it became less like an illusion and more like a real structure. The butler could soon make out the brown trimming beneath the black shingles on the roof, the thin white net curtains, the thick crimson draperies, and the ornate poppy pattern on the wrought iron fence and gate. Alex pulled the horse to a stop outside the gate. After spotting the carriage house and stables further down the road, the butler slid to the edge of the wooden seat before hopping onto the ground. He immediately crossed towards the door of the carriage, which was lined up with the gate due to Alex’s precise skill with the carriage. Pulling the door open and holding it in place, he left the rail on the inside of the door within reaching distance of the carriage’s occupants. -|- Rose’s leather outfit was packed away in her bag. After the first ten minutes of having the air conditioning off she found herself unable to bear the heat. Even wearing the thin white sleeved shirt and dark blue patterned vest of the other outfit she packed became too much. The sleeves were now rolled up to expose her forearms, the vest forgone, and the buttons of the top half of the shirt left undone to expose an inappropriate amount of skin. She couldn’t do much about the brown riding pants – short of taking them off, which she didn’t do to spare Constantine. Rose's braid was tightly wrapped in a bun to let air get to the back of her neck , around which her motorcycle goggles rested. Lounging on her side, she idly waved her hand in front of her face for some reprieve from the heat. The doctor sighed after Constantine’s announcement and sat up. “Thank god,” she mumbled. She’d thought of warning Constantine that by leaving the air conditioning turned off the three of them were at a greater risk of heat stroke, especially in the belly of his zeppelin where there wasn’t much air circulation. In the end she decided it was better to get to their destination as soon as possible than to have the zeppelin stop functioning and possibly get heat stroke while walking to their destination. After slowly sitting up, Rose massaged her furrowed temples for the migraine that formed during their trip. She then started to button up her shirt. “I hope this place has plenty of water – and not just for drinking – or else I’m going to give the owner a firm talk down and lecture about the signs and consequences of heat strokes and how to prevent them.”
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Posted: Wed Sep 03, 2014 12:17 am
Even Bloody was affected by the heat, but not as much as her two companions. She had taken off her assassin's robe and laid it next to her on the other side of the small room across from the doctor. She had also unbuttoned her shirt down to where she could let some air in, but not to the extent the doctor had. She had chuckled at her inventor's announcement as she had found it rather amusing. She had hoped that the little zeppelin would make it at least most of the way there and it had. Miraculously enough and now they knew that it had its limitations and would take that into consideration the next time they flew it. It had made it exactly 2/3s of the way there before it had begun to malfunction. The best way to avoid that happening on the way back would be to make a pit stop about half way through, bu they need not worry about it now. After about five minutes she buttoned up her shirt, pulled on her assassin's robe, and set her backpack at her feet. She pulled a small book out of the front pocket of the backpack and began to flip through it. She stopped about in the middle and began reading it. The book didn't say it on the outside, but it had been Bloody's personal journal as a child. She looked at the last page she had filled in. There were only four words in it, " Never give in again." She closed it, put it back in the front pocket, and then zipped it up. "There will be, but don't expect much in the way of a greeting. The only one that will give one will be his butler. That man was more of a father to me than anyone has in my entire life. Yet not even he could deny him," she explained as her tone began to get colder towards the end.
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Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2014 7:32 pm
Grasping the rail, Zedd emerged from the coolness of the carriage and joined Alex in the unforgiving heat. He gazed up at the crimson Victorian towering over him, recalling the day he’d first set eyes on the house : he was ten and duly unimpressed. For a man of Levi’s profession, Zedd had expected something a little less… domestic. Then again, perhaps it was because of his profession the old man had built a house in the middle of nowhere; a patch mundane bliss to purge decades of sin from its owner. (Zedd never really knew for certain.) Compared to the Gardener’s unusual home on Azalea Court, the Poppy House was small and very suburban, with its white, lacy curtains and manicured lawn; but despite its size and lack of grandeur, it was still a commanding presence to anyone who entered the valley. As to the exterior paint: one would think to choose a more conspicuous color, white or yellow--something to stand out against the poppies during the summer. But it was common knowledge, around the Poppy House, that Levi favored all shades of red; though, he never openly expressed it. (Somehow, Zedd thought it cliche, given what his mentor did for a living; still he cared little for something as trivial as one's favorite color.) Still, one would expect more from someone like Levi Evenstryke. Twenty-seven years later and the Poppy House remained unchanged. Zedd turned at the creak behind him and offered his hand to Trikks as she climbed out of the carriage. After moment of retrieving her parasol, she fixed her eyes on the Poppy House. Her lips formed a thin line across her features. “I don’t like the way that house is looking at us.” The Gardener’s brow creased slightly. What an odd thing to say. Before Zedd could comment on Trikks’ statement a riotous droning from above demanded his attention and he immediately shifted his gaze skyward. He didn’t have search very long for the source of the droning; a small zeppelin was making a rapid, but steady descent. ~*~ Selecting a landing spot several feet away from the house, Constantine disengaged the turbines and shut off the switch to the helium valves. As the needle on the helium gauge steadily made its way to zero, the inventor looked out the bay window, where the house waited below. Looks like someone beat us to it.He pulled up the exterior security footage and selected the feed that displayed the carriage and its passengers. What he saw was nothing truly out of the ordinary, but still enough to raise an eyebrow. Was this the family Bloody spoke of, the family that invoked her ominous behavior? Based on their finery, they looked like the sort that just acquired new money and the snooty demeanor that came with it--nothing more. The inventor would’ve allowed a wave of relief to wash over him; except the man in the dark goggles seemed to stare straight into the camera lens, giving Constantine the distinct impression he was being scrutinized. Swallowing back his building nervousness, Constantine closed the feed. ~*~ Zedd watched as the zeppelin finally touched down. There was only one other person who would choose to enter the valley, and he wasn’t about to wait around to roll out the welcome mat. Heading through the gate, the Gardener strolled up the cobblestone walkway leading to the shady reprieve of the front porch, with Trikks trailing silently after him. The black oak door stared him down as if it secretly dared him to ring the doorbell. And so, with severity, he pressed the tip of his cane into the button by the door. ((Post force-fueled by If I Had A Heart by Fever Ray))
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2014 10:36 pm
Alex stared at Trikks after closing the door. He looked at the house again. His brow furrowed. The butler hadn’t really noticed it when he first looked at the house, but Trikks was right. There was something about the house that made it feel as if it were indeed looking at them. Giving a small shake of his head, Alex then circled around to the back of the carriage. He lifted each piece of luggage off the rack and placed it on the ground. Hooking his hands through the handles and straps of their bags, he then heaved them off the ground, ambled through the gates, and waited behind Zedd and Trikks. The pause for a response to the doorbell gave him the moment he needed to turn and watch the descending zeppelin. At first he thought the occupants of the zeppelin might’ve been the owners of the house. Judging by Zedd’s dismissive reaction to the vessel, however, it seemed they were guests as well – guests his employer didn’t care to greet. He turned his attention back to the door. -|- Finished making herself presentable again, Rose peered at Bloody. Her voice was cold again. She got to her feet and crossed into the cabin, where she peered around Constantine at the feed displayed on the screen. After Constantine closed the feed Rose stood closer to the bay window to catch an above glimpse of the house she’d heard Bloody speak of. It took her a moment to remember she didn’t have her goggles on. Cocking her head to the side, Rose smiled. Red house. Red fields. She pulled her goggles over her eyes. Now everything was a beautiful shade of red. The tip of her tongue briefly ran along the space where her lips met. Turning to head back into the body of the zeppelin, Rose freed her braid from its tight bun before sitting down. The house looked delicious on the outside. She couldn’t wait to see the inside.
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Darkerdemons Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Sep 12, 2014 12:33 am
Bloody then hefted her backpack onto her back as she rolled her neck around as if trying to loosen it. She took a deep breath and then breathed out slowly as she began to prepare herself for what was to come. She had already decided in her mind that she would for this trip to pretend like Zedd didn't even exist even if he would possibly be taking the space up next to her. She didn't need any more past trauma to come up than what has already. At this moment all she wanted to do was to get this little trip over with and move on with her life. The Poppy House had lost its place as a home to come back to in her eyes. It was then that the hatch opened and she stepped out onto the red fields and looked at the red house that had once been her home. Feelings began to well up and were immediately squashed as she also had short flashbacks of her trauma. Her eyes then began to seemilngly emit a cold aura.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2014 3:50 pm
Constantine checked the final item off his mental checklist before slapping on his cap and shouldering his backpack. Sauntering down the ramp, the inventor fished around in his trouser pocket until his produced a small remote. He aimed the device at the cabin as soon as his feet touched solid ground and the cargo hatch closed with groan of protest that put his teeth on edge. (The vessel would undergo a thorough look-over as soon as they returned to Ezra, most definitely.) Confident that everything was secured, Constantine ventured out of the shade, immediately regretting it as he cut through the field: despite being liberated of the flying oven, they were still subjected to the nipping rays of the sun. He squinted at the house. Thankfully, there was less than a hundred feet left in their journey. As the inventor ambled toward the Victorian and silently cursed the heat, he flicked a furtive glance in Bloody’s direction. Hard to believe that this picturesque environment had once been her home; given how his employer conducted business, Constantine imagined a towering stone fort set upon a mountain top. An entire neighborhood could fit into the valley, with room to spare; all the fresh air and sunshine made Ezra seem like a hub for pollution of every sort; and the house, itself--straight from a children’s storybook. How could anyone hate it? Constantine’s family would have given anything to have it this good. But the inventor knew, based on his experience at the Clock Tower, nothing was always as it seemed. There was a reason why Bloody wouldn’t make the journey alone. Their trek finally came to an end in the shade of the porch, where Constantine dropped his backpack at his feet and openly thanked his maker for seeing them safely through. He blinked a few times, allowing his eyesight to adjust to the dim lighting, and it was then his gaze fell on the woman. He’d been too distracted by the man with the goggles that he hadn’t really noticed her; now that they all occupied the same space, the woman’s beauty was apparent. Eyes like emeralds, lips formed into a perfect cupid’s bow, hair of flaxen gold--a living breathing angel stood before him. But there was something off about her, Constantine couldn’t place what; for all her healthy radiance, something was missing. Something in the eyes… The inventor dismissed the thought as a product of near heat exhaustion. He’d strayed into a little patch of heaven and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass him by. Putting on his most irresistible smile, Constantine removed his cap. “Just when I thought I had the sun beat, I discover a piece of her radiance caught among the shadows.” A smiled curled into the corners of the woman’s lips as she cast her male companion a conspiratorial glance. “My, my…” She made a show of fanning herself with a delicate hand. “Aren’t you a charmer.” Her voice invoked images of warm honey being drizzled over buttered biscuits, and the inventor had to grin. Maybe coming along wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. He took a step forward, ready to introduce himself, but a voice barred his attempt. “We may dispense with the pretenses from this point on, my dear, and proceed with proper introductions.” Both Constantine and the woman turned their attention on the man in the goggles. Zedd hoped to be the first--and only--ones visiting today, but now that they all occupied the same space he couldn’t do something as childish as pretend that Bloody and her group didn’t exist. (Although, judging by her icy gaze, Bloody was ready to do so.) There was just no way around it. Things would go a lot quicker if he maintained a level of courtesy.The Garderner held out his hand. “Yong Zhao.” “Constantine Delgado.” The young man took the proffered hand and gave it a firm shake. Zedd released Constantine, ready to introduce his companions when Quentin zipped in from the walkway and placed himself before the Gardener, obscuring the young man from view. Eyes glowing a neon green, the robotic scarab pointed at the carriage with one hand and gave a thumbs up with the other. Zedd suppressed a sigh. “Good j--” “Is that an V3x-2789L Scarab?!” Before the Gardener knew it (and to Quentin’s delight, indicated by the quiver of his antennae), Quentin was plucked out of the air and subjected to a rather impromptu inspection, as the young man turned the droid over and over in his hands --testing the droid's joints and peering into his third bay. “I haven’t seen these in forever! He’s even Junebug-Green! That’s limited edition!” Constantine turned Quentin right-side up and pressed his ear against the little droid’s shiny belly; to which the robotic scarab mimicked by taking the top of Constantine’s head and pressing a bulbous eye against his curls. “Retro collectors would kill to get their hands on one of these!” The corner of Zedd's lips twitched at the thought. Before things could get out of hand, Zedd tapped the droid’s back with the pommel of his cane. “That’s quite enough, Quentin.” Quentin obediently released Constantine’s head and rose up out of his grasp to affix himself to Zedd’s shoulder. Constantine gestured toward the droid. “Sounds like his processors are really hauling a**. I could take a look at him for you.” “I’d rather you didn’t.” Seeing the hopeful light go out of the young man’s eyes, the Gardener continued with the introductions. “Now that my droid has finished his introduction, I present my associate, Sophie Fairchild.” All the warmth she’d displayed just moments earlier had gone out of Trikks, leaving her face a chilling mask of apathy. After all, Zedd did say no more pretenses. She took Constantine’s hand in a firm shake, but pulled it back before her hand could reach his lips. Zedd then gestured to the individual behind her. “And this is my butler, Pendergast.” To her relief, Constantine moved on and offered his hand to Alex.
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Darkerdemons Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2014 7:10 pm
Alex placed his bag on the ground to free his right hand. He then bowed before taking Constantine’s hand in a firm grip. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Delgado.” A hint of a smirk lurked at the corners of his mouth. Constantine’s behavior towards Trikks was hard not to miss. The butler wondered how he would’ve reacted if Trikks gave him the same greeting she gave Alex the first time they met. Probably with less poetry. While the attention of the other guests followed Constantine and his antics with the scarab, she’d scrutinized their forms from top to bottom. Despite his lanky-looking figure, the way Zedd’s butler held the bags suggested he was stronger than he looked. Trikks was dressed elegantly enough, but the sudden withdrawal of the openness she’d previously shared made her seem less like Zedd’s partner – which Rose first assumed. As for Zedd… Rose gave a slight bow before holding her hand out to Zedd. “I’m Rae,” she said curtly. Zedd’s handling of introductions and command over the two individuals accompanying him made him indisputably the leader of their group. His solid stance and ease of gestures made her want to see the form that hid beneath his the clothes that perfectly fit his form. He probably had a toned body that was well taken care of. A wry smile formed on her lips.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2014 7:23 pm
" 'Rae'." The Gardener's lips formed into a wry smile of his own as he took the doctor's hand and kissed the back of it. But instead of releasing her, his thumb ran over her knuckles; an orange grid appeared in his line of sight and layered itself over her features. At the same moment, a series of photos appeared beside her face, each one rapidly replacing the former until he finally got a match. He released her and took a step back. "Tell me--how are your patients doing with the flowers? No allergic reactions, I hope."
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Darkerdemons Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2014 9:51 pm
Rose's skin lost some of its color while her smile faded. Her jaw clenched (along with most of the muscles in her body) as her brow furrowed. How… She forced herself to keep breathing levelly as panic threatened to overcome her thoughts and actions. How did Zedd know she was a doctor? On top of that, his tone while saying 'Rae' suggested he knew it was not her real name. She inspected his face more carefully, but to her dismay she didn’t recognize him. A forced smile gradually returned to her lips. “I would prefer if you and your acquaintances kept my business private, Mr. Zhao,” she stated sharply without answering his question. “Both businesses.” Still facing Zedd, Rose’s eyes narrowed dangerously before she finally looked away and offered her hand to Alex and Trikks. She then silently returned to Bloody's side.Alex's gaze followed her before switching to the silent member of their party. He paused for a moment on her crimson hair before lowering his gaze and placing the remaining bags on the ground. They were being made to wait, so there was no sense in continuing to hold the bags until the door was answered. He glanced at Bloody briefly one more time as his attention returned to the door.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen someone with vibrant hair; however, the color reminded him of a childhood friend. She was spunky though; spunky and untamable - kind of like a little sister. The frosty glare in this woman's eyes kept people from getting too close. Somehow the individuals on either side of her seemed unaffected by her venomous gaze.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2014 9:56 pm
Bloody's eyes narrowed as the one that had caused her suffering turned to face her group and introduce his group. She would have liked nothing better than to just stare at the wall. Yet here they were, passing around introductions. She didn't offer any hands as she spoke, "I am the Bloody Rose, Constantine is my mechanic, and the lovely lady on my other side is my friend. Now that we've dispensed with the unnecessary pleasantries, let's go inside." Bloody could barely stand the site of the former friend/ally. She just wanted to get this over with so she could move on with her life expand her organization even further. Her visit was merely as a favor to a person that meant more to her than the others ever did. She retained her steely and extremely cold gaze as she waited for the people in front of her to finally ring the thrice blasted doorbell. Or knock, she didn't really care which. She just wanted to get in, see what her 'father' wanted, hug Archie, and then go home. Archie was more of a father figure than her 'father' was. The person that stood before her had once been as close as family and then he left without a word. Leaving her to deal with the 'father' he couldn't express feelings to save his life! Her psyche got torn apart all because someone had the nerve to just up and leave without a single word. This caused her gaze to become, if it were possible, even colder than it had been earlier.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2014 10:02 pm
The smile remained on Zedd's face as the doctor completed her rounds of introduction, but lessened slightly as he turned his focus on the crimson-haired beauty standing a few feet away. Her bitterness clung to her like the miasma cloud shrouding Factory Rock, presenting itself like a festering wound. Twelve years ago, during his last visit to the Poppy House, he’d heard of the events that transpired after he’d deserted; according to Archie, it hadn’t been pretty. Whatever grudge she so desperately cleaved to lay in their past and was none of his concern. After today, he’d have no reason to return to the valley or the Poppy House. Rebuffing Bloody’s brusque introduction of her crew, he merely acknowledged her with a slight nod. “Amelia…” Constantine's voice jarred the Gardener from the memories Bloody’s presence started to evoke, for which he was grateful: “So, how did you come by the little guy?” Zedd shifted his attention to find the mechanic still eyeing Quentin curiously. “I killed someone for him.” The mechanic’s eyes darted from the little droid and fixed him with a look of muted horror. Noticing that no one had come to answer the door, Zedd turned away and tried the doorbell again. He turned his head, listening for the sound of approaching footfalls and heard nothing. There was a shuffling of skirts behind him, as Trikks stepped around the others on her way to the window; she peered through the curtains briefly, then shook her head at him. The Gardener clenched his jaw until the muscle muscle skipped and he looked at the door again, this time give it a solid pounding with his fist. Still, nothing. Zedd grasped the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it gave way at the turn of his wrist. He stared at it for a moment, but didn’t open it. Archie would never leave the front door unlocked. There was just no way: the door automatically locked itself upon when closed and could only be unlocked with a code or magnetic key; he no longer possessed a key, and Archie was diligent about frequently changing the codes. A shiver threatened to race up his spine, but the Gardener tamped it down as he pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold. Filtered light from the windows cast a ghostly wash over the foyer, speckling the walls with the shadowy pattern from the lace curtains. Trikks squeezed past him and tried the light switch only to discover that it didn’t work. They exchanged dark glances before venturing further inside. Constantine trailed in after them. “This isn’t much of a welcoming--no offense.” Zedd dismissed Constantine’s comment as they moved passed the foyer: “None taken.” Beside him, Trikks waved off a fly, and the Gardener peered over his shoulder at those lingering in the foyer. “Whoever enters last, please close the door behind you.” So far nothing seemed out of the ordinary from the foyer to the parlor: portraits and picture frames remained in perfect alignment on the walls, decor still in their exact places--even Archie’s coat and bowler still remained on their hooks in the foyer. The only thing amiss was eerie silence. That and… Zedd ran his fingers across mantle, skirting around old photos (from a time when he and Bloody still called themselves Yong and Amelia), and examined his fingertips. He noted the slight dust buildup. This in itself was troubling: like Alex and the Sisters, Archie was vigilant about dust control. Another fly buzzed around Zedd’s face, and the Gardener immediately waved it off. They’d exited the parlor and reached the steps when Constantine placed his hand over his mouth. “Ugh! Smells like--” “Putrefaction.” Constantine and Zedd looked at Trikks. The mechanic shrugged, his hand remaining firmly in place while the other swatted at yet another fly: “I was going to say rotting hamburger meat.” Trikks met the Gardener’s gaze. “He’s not entirely wrong.” Zedd took a deep breath, ignoring the sour expression that came over Constantine’s face, as he tried to pinpoint the source of the stench. Breaking away from the group, the Gardener ventured past the stairs toward a door that originally led to Levi’s study. The stench intensified with every step he took, causing him to bring his own hand to his face as Constantine had done. He recognized the smell, knew it well when it was in its freshest stated--blood. He felt the tickle against his cheek as another fly attempted to land on him. And then another. And another. He swatted at them all and sent them flying. It dawned on him that they’d hadn’t flew in when he and the others entered the house; the flies were coming from this specific area. Zedd was standing at the door when he’d heard it: the steady hum. No… not a hum. He turned his head as he strained to listen. Buzzing.There was no stopping the shiver that raced up his spine as he reached for the doorknob. It vibrated beneath his touch. Steeling himself for what was to come, the Gardener threw the door open, and a dark cloud descended upon him. Still clutching his mouth and nose, Zedd scattered the horde of flies with his free arm; behind him, a riotous clamor rose up as the others cried out, stamped and swatted at the pests. There seemed to be no end to the onslaught, but eventually the flies dispersed (no doubt, hiding in other corners of the Poppy House) and the commotion stilled. Waving off the last batch of flies from his personal space, Zedd peered into the study. “Meu Deus!”The Gardener suspected Constantine must’ve seen it too and did the sign of the cross to go with his outburst. It was both fitting and inappropriate, twisted as the thought may seem. But one thing was certain: what he saw before him was not the work of God.
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2014 2:14 pm
Alex barely noticed the stifling emptiness of the house around him. Feeling uneasy about the lack of response at the door, he’d left the bags on the floor near the door, closing it behind him before following the others deeper into the house. His eyes remained fixed on the back of Bloody’s head. Zedd called her Amelia. His brow furrowed. Was it a coincidence that his childhood friend – the one who also had red hair – also went by the name Amelia? Alex forced his attention away from Bloody. It had to be a coincidence. There was no way that their paths could’ve crossed – especially not now and not here, of all places. Now that Bloody was out of his mind, he got a good look at the scene in the study. His eyes widened before old instincts settled in. He steadied his thoughts as he inspected the hallway and floor around them. It was silent, but was the house really abandoned? The flies suggested the house was probably empty. Were they invited only to view the horror in the study? Or were there more horrors waiting to be discovered? Rose inhaled deeply. The tension eased out of her body with the familiar aroma lingering in the stagnant air. An anticipating smile eased over her features as her tongue ran over her lips. How wonderful it smelled. Hints of iron mixed with oxygen to create a perfect shade of red. “Mmmm….” she sighed as she absentmindedly waved at a few flies buzzing near her face. Rose glided forward, craving a closer look at the daunting scene before them. Catching the Doctor's movements out of the corner of his eyes, Alex quickly reached out and firmly grasped the doctor’s arm. He balked after Rose turned her head towards him. There was something strange about the way she looked at him. It was as if he were a large piece of meat hanging from a hook – and she was a starved predator. Rose slipped out of the butler’s lax grip and turned back towards the room. A shiver ran through Alex’s body. This couldn’t be the same woman he shook hands with only moments ago. Recovering after a moment’s breath, Alex reached for her arm again. “Ms. Rae!” “Please.” Rose smiled at Alex before gracefully stepping into the room. “This is my field of expertise.”
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Darkerdemons Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2014 3:17 pm
The accusatory finger was leveled at Zedd, bits of rotting flesh still clung to the digit; in the same hand, it clutched a weapon Zedd had known since his childhood. Levi’s scythe. The rest of the skeleton was very much in same state: skin and organs stripped, chunks of muscle still clinging to the bone, and maggot-ridden. Swathed in bloodied linen, it hung over Levi’s desk, suspended by old-fashioned twine and carelessly arranged in a pose the Gardener had seen on numerous occasions, on the stained-glass windows in Ezra’s churches. The perfectly crafted bronze wings fastened to the skeleton’s back completed the image of an angel of death. And it had already claimed a soul: Zedd’s gaze strayed to its other hand, where a second head dangled from more twine wrapped around its wrist.
Aside from missing its body, the head was fortunate enough to retain its skin and hair, though early stages of decay somewhat warped the obvious features. But there was one physical trait on the head that hadn't changed quite yet: the diagonal scar that marred its countenance, from the left eye to the right cheek. Zedd knew it too well; he'd put it there himself during a sparring match with his mentor.“Trikks, Pendergast.” The Gardener turned his head toward them, keeping his voice low and hushed. “Search the rest of the house. If there are any lingering… ‘pests’, bring them to me.” Issuing a single nod, Trikks produced her pistol from the depths of her skirts, took the safety off, and quietly started up the steps. "I think I'm going to be sick." Even in the shadows, no one could deny that Constantine was turning a visible shade of green. He groped the walls and started in the opposite direction."Look away if you must, but stay where you are." Stepping into the study, the Gardener returned his attention to the tableau in front of him. The orange grid appeared in his line of sight once more and layered itself over the angel’s skull. Just as it had done with the doctor earlier, a series of images appeared beside the grid, switching from one photo to the next in rapid succession. The floorboard creaked, announcing Dr. Dalphina’s presence; the hungry expression on her face didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t touch anything--not yet, at least. Not until I’ve taken a look at everything.” An orange flash caught his attention, but he didn't need to read the words at the bottom of his vision. All it took was the photo beside the skull. The Gardener wouldn't have believed it, but the words kept flashing their dreadful confirmation. MATCH: Archibald Aloysius Twitch.
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