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 Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:04 pm
Nil Mortifi Sin Lucre ‘No Death Without Payment’ The one time motto of a long-ago group of assassins who served their master with absolute devotion, relinquishing control of both their powers and souls.
The law of the mercenary, the hired thug, of the Darkness itself.
The Law of the White Council, that if a life is taken by one of their own it will be reciprocated in kind…until a wizard named Harry Dresden upset the cycle.
Harry Dresden thinks that there is no greater evil than his former mentor, that evil is defined by twisted motives of greed, lust and all other negative emotions. Harry Dresden is wrong, because there is nothing so terrifying as one who perpetuates atrocity just because it’s always been done that way.
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Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:15 pm
[[Was that suitably dramatic for everyone? Good. Now on to an actual coherent presentation of the plot. ]]
Plot:
Harry Dresden has just self-defensed Justin to Death. He will have to deal with the White Council, the discovery of a pervy Spirit of Intellect, but more importantly starting his own life. His new found mentor introduces him to an acquaintance with a problem. Ebenezzer omits mentioning at the time that this acquaintance is a thousand-plus year old sorceress who still practices Necromancy, is number one on the White Council’s hit list, is infamous for taking young apprecentices and shattering their minds to use as her own personal goon squad, oh, and she’s been a werewolf for nine-hundred years. As an extra bonus she and Bob have a History. One that Bob makes quite clear didn’t feature roses and fuzzy warm feelings, and advizes his new Wizard to “stay the hell away from the crazy b***h.” All the while admirably stuffing down the over-whelming terror that her re-appearance of her in his live causes, as well as the resurgence of certain things he thought he had laid to rest long ago.
Dresden, for reasons to-be-determined, takes the case. In the process he moves to Chicago, meets a Captain Karrin Murphy, picks up a cat, and becomes the first Wizard listed in the phone book.
In short- The early days of suicidally-chivalric Harry bonding with Bob the Skull (who has some problems of his very own) and beginging a friendship with perpetually-pissed Karrin Murphy.
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Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:17 pm
Rules:
1- TOS, Guild Rules, Common Sense
2- Lit-Semi-Lit RP, and everything that entails
3- PM me Profiles and Canon Char. Requests (include RP samples for the latter)
4- Don’t care what ‘voice’ you use, first or third is fine, however you wish to do it
5- Made-ups are allowed, but you must take on a Canon as well as a Made-up
6- This is Book-verse. However if you want something small (ex. Bob being able to manifest corporeally) changed just include a line in your char. request *hint* unless it’s something really drastic I won’t mind in the least bit
7- Post. Regularly. If you’re going to be gone let me know.
8- Have. Fun. It’s the Dresden Files, it’s supposed to be escapism. Butcher said so. ^.^
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Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:20 pm
Form for Made-ups:
Name:
TrueName:
Age:
Race (if Vampire specify Court, Fae note alignment):
Rank (Knight of the Cross, Warden etc.):
Alignment (Good, Evil, Neutral, Fae etc.):
Specialty(s) (ex. Dresden’s would be Thamangugary and fire evocation):
Weapons (non magical items):
Special Items (magic items; staff, blasting rod etc.):
History (optional, I’m sure you’re all clever people who can reveal it as they go along):
Appearance:
Played by:
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Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:32 pm
Char. List:
Canons
Harry Dresden- Sepik
Bob- Lord_Havelock
Karrin Murphy-
The Archive- Minekura Shizuka
Mister- Sepik
Ebenezzar-
Morgan-
The Merlin-
Injun Joe-
Made-ups
Name: ‘Byron’ Maliky
TrueName: Cameron von Richtoven Vi Maliky
Age: 1, 602
Race: Werewolf/Sorceress
Rank: Knight of the Archive
Alignment: Aggressive Neutral
Specialitys: Necromancy, Wyld evocation,
Weapons: 1873 Colt .45
Special Items: Mordite Ring (thick silver band with a small black mordite stone set in it under incredibly thinck layers of magical protection, serves as an around-the-clock death curse, causing her death with drop the spells and realease the deadly mordite); Enspelled Knife (used for Necromanc magics); blasting rod; Loki’s sword (sword of the former Sword of God, won from the Fallen by contract); binding collar (band of silver metal with black horizontal lines carved around its circumfrance, binds her to the will of the Archive, serves as both a symbol and practical guareantee of her servitude)
Appearance: 5'9", wiry, short cropped spikey dirty blonde hair, black cloak with sigils sewn in silver thread, black tunic, breeches and boots of similar nature, black scabbared that holds a black hilted sword (a ruby carved to mimic a slitted eye is set in the base of the hilt), thick silver ring with a black stone, silver choker with black markings, fleshing-hawk tatoo on the apex of her neck (done with a startling life-like clarity), cloudy green eyes with hints of hazel, aristocratic features that resemble the set of a male assassin more than a woman,
Played by: Lord_Havelock
Name: Winnifred Connors
True Name: Winnifred Faustus Blackthorn Connors
Age: 26
Race: Human/Wizard
Rank: Wizard
Alignment: Good
Specialty(s): Evocation and potionwork.
Weapons: Walther P99, PPK, and a knife if anything gets close enough for its use.
Special Items: All her fingers on each hand has a ring upon it that has been magically enchanted to alert her to black magic, high uses of power, and gives her hints at peoples emotions. In addition, some rings hold kinetic power that can be released when needed, an enchanted bracelet for defensive shielding, and lastly a spellbook that she always carries with her.
History (brief): For most of her childhood, Winnifred was raised by a family who dealt in black magic. Just before her 13th birthday, the young wizard suffered an accident due to blow back from an unfinished spell she attempted. The accident left her paralyzed from the waist down and brought her to the attention of the Council. Her parents were executed, but Winnifred was given a chance to prove herself as the Council closely watched her throughout her training. Currently, she owns a used and rare bookstore in Chicago.
Appearance: If Winnifred were able to stand, her height would be about 5'5", pale skinned with very short black hair and gray eyes. A typical outfit would consist of a t-shirt, long skirt to hide her legs, and dark brown work boots.
Played by: Minekura Shizuka
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Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:36 pm
Updates
-a running tab on what's going on-
3/9/07- RP Opens 2 Days earlier than scheduled! mrgreen *yay! me*
3/10/07- first post by Sepik as Harry. (and what a wonderful post it is^^)
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Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:37 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:37 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:39 pm
*Cuts Tape*
The First Dresden Files Guild RP is now Offically OPEN!!
mrgreen mrgreen mrgreen
(I feel special xd )
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2007 8:47 pm
You know how in all those TV shows and books, when a main character gets hurt, how they always end up unconscious? And then they just lay around until one of their friends saves them? Then everything else is skipped. They just cut to a new scene, the one where the person is waking up in the hospital bed surrounded by nurses and doctors and anxious family. Well, it doesn’t work that way. I can promise you that.
Instead it happens more something like this. Whatever is the horrible thing, well, happens. And then you get to be awake for every grueling moment of it. You get to feel all that fear, all that pain, all that shock in one moment. Then the next. And then all the ones that come after it.
You get to see your uncle screaming at you and cursing at you and getting ready to turn you into his slave since you won’t go willingly. You get to see the look of shock on his face turn to terror as he realizes that pesky binding spell didn’t hold me. And then I get to see the lack of concern on the face of the woman I love. And after all that screaming, after all that noise, the worst part is the silence that comes right afterwards. Just for that one second. Not long enough to be a moment, but just excruciating to feel like eternity.
And damn, does it hurt. All that pain felt in just one moment... The silence before the storm. Everything was so quiet.
And then. The next moment hit. Every feeling I’ve ever had and ones I wouldn’t even begin to understand till who knew when rushed out of me in a torrent. They took the form of the only thing I could think of. Flame. Wild flames, seemingly touched by another hand, the hand of a fae. Everything in the world that had seemed to stop just a second before was engulfed in motion, in heat. I could feel myself being thrown backwards into a wall, but it wasn’t quick enough for me to miss seeing Justin.
Justin wasn’t human anymore. In those few seconds, he was a mass of writhing flesh. His skin literally melted into nothing, and I saw what he looked like on the inside. I could see veins, and muscles, and tendons. There should have been blood, but instead it evaporated instantly into a hazy cloud of red. Then there were his bones, which should have been white. They never had time to be any color but black, and then nothing as they turned to ash.
I hit the wall so hard that all I could see for a moment was white. And then my vision came back before I had time to enjoy the reprieve, and half the house was gone, along with Elaine and Justine. I slid bonelessly down to the debris-covered floor. I couldn’t move. I wanted to lose conciseness. I really, really did. But I didn’t. Even though it felt as if I hadn’t slept in weeks, and at the same time had been forced to do heavy labor, I couldn’t just fall asleep.
Instead I sat there and stared at the open night. I could see across the damned street. I had blown away half the house. I had blown away half the house. How the hell had I blown away half the house? A sickening sense of euphoria spread over me, and into all of my limbs. I was too tired to move, but I still let out a few choked laughs. I was laughing. It was funny. I blew up a house. Me, a sixteen year old.
Oh my God.
“Oh my God.”
I don’t know how I even managed to talk. I just repeated it over and over.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
God. Like he had anything to do with it.
Euphoria. Pain. Guilt. Fear. Satisfaction. Out of all of those, euphoria was winning. Why? Simple. Nothing else had set in except for the fact that I had just blown up a house. And my uncle. And my girlfriend.
That’s when I saw the black cloud drunkenly approach me, shimmering and winding and dipping around through the air. I seriously thought it was the angel of death coming to collect another soul.
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2007 9:23 pm
Ow.
To be more accurate; searing red with fringes of creeping black. That of course due to the fact that he was a Spirit instead of an actual human.
I shiverd, actually convulsed is the better word for it.
Brilliant green eyes.
No. This was not happening.
Lovely, dangerous, false smile.
It wasn't the reality.
You've thought that before.
That was ages ago.
It ended in blood.
I moved on.
It ended in death.
Justin. Justin. It was him.
It ended in pain.
He died, the wards failed, his protections against escape snapped.
It ended in breaking you.
Justin.
It ended love.
No...
It ended in Shadow.
NO!
The Air Spirit of Amidorus Zyfier bobed drunkenly acrossed the rubble. Imune to the flares of fire that would sometime erupt from the smouldering wreckage. For the Spirit it was not so much the physical pain that occupied his mind, but the psychological that the ward-spell was ment to target. It brought back the target's worst memories, and for the Spirit that had once been the most powerful Sourcerer the world had known, the memories were from one of the worst nightmares humanity had created. Not the overt-kind of the Nazis, or even the near-silent killers in Tuskeke. Something much darker, much deeper, all the more terrifying for its cold motivation. Memories that trapped the mind in the horror that once was, memories that even when not forced to the fore-front occupied a silent, cancerous spot in his life. Completely oblivious, wrapped in his own torment, the Spirit that had come to be known as 'hey you' or the ever-clever variation of 'skull boy' or on very rare occasions 'you damned worthless book-end' weaved towards Justin's old apprentice. A few small black puffs brushed the boy's cheek.
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Posted: Sun Mar 11, 2007 6:39 am
The cloud moved towards me, and I swear I could hear someone speaking. Was it muttering to itself? I was too exhausted to move away as it approached me. I was so tired... I just wanted to sleep.
Before I realized what it was doing, part of the cloud seemed to morph into more of a shape, and it glided through me.
Ice. ICE! It stung, and I jerked away.
And in a flash I saw what it was. It, no, he was in so much pain... He was a spirit. It kept on creeping through me, and I screamed in pain.
The next thing I heard was a loud, shrieking ‘NO!’ I wasn’t sure if it had come from me or him.
He was a spirit. I had just killed Justin. Crap.
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2007 8:13 pm
A touch of fire jerked the Spirit out of his mind. The cloud condensed, drew in a reverted back to its strongest defense. A glowing orange sphere with incandesent white spark.
It took him a moment to sort through the jolt, a moment to sort through the thoughts of the mind that had briefly touched his. Fear. Anger. Loss. The mind of a boy...Justin's apprentice. His mind eagerly seized on the thought, eager to grab onto something to take away the pain. Admitedly the pain that was already fading as the trail of purple goo bleeding from the glowing cloud slowed to a trickle. One of the few advantages of being a Spirit, corporeal injuries only went so far in hurting you. Along with that and the spirit's extensive knowledge of pyschic healing even the powerful revenge wards wound around the skull-bound servant would be only a memory in a day or two.
For now though, he concentrated on the boy. The spirit felt twin feelings of irritation and gratefullness to the kid. He had killed a man who was one amongst many who had merely used him, yet he had killed a man who wasn't hampered by these morals some mortals seemed so concerned with and thus he let the spirit explore the more intricate magiks. He sighed, the only corporeal result a slight rustle of ashes. Ah well, a new master, a new identity...an new nameless, faceless exestence.
"Harry?" The voice was barely audible, a faint echo. The sprit concentrated and made it strong enough to be heard through the boy's haze. "Harry?"
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2007 8:42 pm
I jumped back, startled. Well, I tried to. It didn't work out so well, and the next thing I knew was that I was lying on my back, looking at the star-filled sky. It knew my name. That could either be really really good, or really really bad. It wasn't Justin... or at least... yeah, it wasn't Justin. It couldn't be Justine. Of course it wasn't Justin.
It said my name again, but this time louder, as if gathering its strength.
"Wha - Who are you?" I asked.
Was that feeble squeak really my voice?
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2007 7:26 pm
If the spirit could have managed his human manifestation he would have raised his eyebrows at the falsetto tremor. Wait...
The spirit reached out slightly with his limited awareness...and found something he didn't expect.
Since being imprisoned the spirit had changed hands more than a few times, and was pretty well acquanted with the passing down/across of power. This wasn't exactly the first time the vessel to witch he was bound was laying beneath smoking rubble. ...but usually the smok-e was stading either a-amidst the rubble cackling/grining b-somewhere else cackling/grinning and would show up very shortly to gloat properly or on one odd occasion c-stood there solemnly and prayed to a god even the spirit had never heard of. Each time though the killer of his previous master had radiated power, confidence, and they had all been over thier age of majority.
This was just a fledgling, as scared, burned, confused fledgeling.
s**t.
He hadn't planned it. The boy had killed deMoore and hadn't planned it, maybe not even ment it...
The boy wasn't prepared for the aftermath.
The boy wasn't ready to face the White Council.
That should have been enough plesant-ness for the day, but although the White Council was a hypocratic burocreacy it wouldn't kill the spirit, maybe force him to be an useless book-end for a few hundred years but he would remain alive. The worst bit was the boy wasn't ready for the suvounir hunters.
The super-natural world can be a lot like this one, but with annoying little differences. In the normal world when somebody rich and affluent died there was a huge estate sale that other assorted rich people flocked to to pick off the best stuff. Everything else was tied up for years in courts. Estate sales never caught on in the supernatural world, especially in the less savory world. Apparently barganing loses its appeal when you can just smoke the opposing bidder and run off with it. DeMoore hadn't exactly been low-profile in those circles...give it an hour or two at most and other practioners every bit as unsavory as Justin would be swarming around this place. The boy would be killed. This ended the chain of possession...and left it open for someone to step in. Mab. s**t.
"I'm...a spirit of intellect." he added as an afterthought "and Air." It wasn't really far from the truth really.
"Listen Harry. Why did you kill Justin?" First order of buisness being to see if his new owner would be running from the White Council as well as everybody else.
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