Forlorn Mists Ahead
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FOG: Footsteps of Ghosts :: In Character :: Expert Role-Playing :: Expert Out of Character Discussion :: Archived Expert OoC Topics
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Forlorn Mists Ahead
by Kalaam Wed Dec 23, 2009 9:39 pm
Well, you can find this in the Advanced Interest Checks under Monster Hunting Anyone?. Please speak there if you are interested before posting a sign-up, thanks.
Prologue- Part 1
“Does Betty know you are paying for part of her tuition?”
Does Betty know I am paying for her tuition? The words snapped me out of my daze, and I stopped staring at the computer screen to look at the familiar voice. Hmm… probably not.
“That I am paying for a fifth of the loans? No. I saw no reason to tell her, and I doubt the government cares who pays it money.”
I hit the escape button to set the computer to sleep, blank blackness covering up the Guild.net screen. I half-swiveled the fake leather desk chair to face my father, Isaac. Despite the fact that he was also in the guild, my records and scores were still personal. While I doubted my dad would ever try to one up me, especially since he was my partner, any research I conducted was still personal. I still hadn’t forgiven my mother’s side of the family for the recurring nightmares from the potentia incidents, and as a result become so paranoid even J. Edgar Hoover as the head of the FBI would have approved.
Isaac, my Dad, snorted. Considering he was a conservative republican, his low estimate of the current gubermental nonsense was easy to provoke. However, given the current level of corruption in the federal government, again, despite assurances and promises to reduce it otherwise, I found it difficult to disagree with him. Besides, I was more under the authority of the High Council, and the Guild than the U.S. government. As formidable as the U.S. Military might be, one good wizard with a talent for havoc could short circuit every bit of equipment in ten mile radius. The things besides evocations a good battle wizard or war mage could do with black magic would be frightening as hell. Literally. But, enough bullets could even take down an arch-demon, especially if they were backed up by a platoon of tanks or a couple JDAMs. So pissing off the normal human population was not a good idea either. You could take the fae’s word for it. Some of them were still bitter about it.
On the other hand, no one and nothing wanted to piss off the Guild. It was the equivalent of the NRA of the supernatural world, except for three crucial differences. The first being that every member absolutely knew how to use what they had for weapons. The second difference was that the active members were something like the special and black ops of the same supernatural veterans. The current head of the Guild was rumored to have taken out some decrepit Old One, by himself, after the thing had wiped out the rest of his team. Anyone who could take out something on the level of a demi-god, at least, was one bad customer. The third was the most important. We made money. Tons of it, in paper. The guild has the both the military might, wealth, and influence of the old British empire. However, we lacked the cohesion. Walking into one of the seven Houses of the Guild was an interesting exercise in survival.
Dad’s voice once again snapped me out of my contemplative haze. He had no doubt noticed my eyes glazing over
“You been sleeping enough?” The concern in his voice was touching, and I actually felt bad about the lie I was about to pass off.
“Ya. So what’s up?”
“I was wondering how school was going, considering you have been busy night and day hunting monsters. You also haven’t seen a vacation since you joined.”
I reclined back in my chair as I considered how to answer the question without seeming arrogant. I moved my hands behind my back in a nonchalant manner. It was a fair point.
“Well, it’s going fine now that I fixed the faraday cages for the electronics. Most of the necessary classes are online anyway, and most of the labs are cake compared to some of the things we have to cook up in the basement. I made a deal for pass/fail tests to cover for competency. So far, they have been mostly pleased.”
Dad grunted, and started speaking again, but the bell from the first floor, my ‘shop’ entrance rang.
“Hold that thought, Dad. Business calls.”
He cracked a can and sat down on the office futon, obviously not finished with this conversation. I waved, and half-closed the door behind me. It was only a couple of feet to the stairs, which I half-jumped down three or four at a time. Not that the two-story building had much, but the thrill of some kinds of physical activities were a rush all their own. It put me in a good mood that vanished the second I saw the four people who were in the store.
My smile faded at Alex, Jenny, Carter and Kevin. No doubt they were here to pester me about some minor job that probably was a hoax, or some kind of trick to be taught. They were like my groupies, but annoying. Still, they generally were good people, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with their juvenile responses to the ‘supernatural threat,’ which if they thought about in any real fashion, included him. The amusing and ironic part of all of this was that they were all older than me by at least five years. I also thought that encountering some horror would have instilled some caution, not some reckless confidence that I was always going to be there to bail their collective asses out of the fire. I wasn’t some superhero, always here to save the day.
“Yes?” I couldn’t help it if my voice was just a little peeved. The last three ‘cases’ had been a waste of my time. They had all been complete and utter jokes of situations which any one of the four could have handled with just a little grunt work of their own. Seriously, some electrical wire shorting out and causing some voltage to fault was not a supernatural occurrence; hell, it wasn’t even unusual.
I was not reassured as Alex’s voice, which he thought husky, deep and manly, which was also wrong on all accounts began babbling his newest surprise with the same sense of import as Columbus proclaiming the discovery of the New World.
“I found a real case this time. Some serious bad ju-ju man. You should help us out with it.”
I repressed rolling my eyes. Another thing that never ceased to amaze me about these imbeciles was the fact that they seemed to think that they were the first among equals here. Not a single one possessed a handgun above a 9 mm, which while fine against most humans, is not exactly something you want on something as tough as an elephant or a rhino. Alex’s hoarse, smoked out voice continued to grate on my nerves.
“Some old guy saw a lizard thing at the movies.”
The raspy voice was a bit uncertain now, like he said something stupid. Was I supposed to be surprised here? Someone saw something unnatural at the movies? Heaven forbid and call the media, the sky was falling. I continued to stare unblinkingly at all four. It would unnerve every single one of them. A felt a vicious thrill of anticipation it making them all shiver in their boots, or in Jenny’s maudlin case, stilettos. Carter’s much more mellifluous voice stepped in to help his faltering partner, and I shifted my gaze to his eyes. He stuttered out a hello, and shied back. Jenny tossed her hair nervously, and looked like she had been insulted. Probably the most intelligent of the bunch, but despite a werewolf nearly eating off her face, she was still lost in the wonder world of Twilight and Tolkien. I actually liked listening to her talk, because with no real qualms, she was pretty.
My voice appeared to cut like a knife given the way the first three flinched. All from a single word, “Details.” It made me give a humorless smile with teeth. It amused me, but something told me to start reassessing the case when Kevin began to speak. The man was in his mid-thirties and a military vet. More importantly, he had a head on his shoulders.
“There have been multiple sighting of green lizards the size of small dogs, all of which something like an iguana and one which looks like a chameleon. The owner of theater, Richard Maes, has already hired a security consultant to help deal with the infestation. No real details about the creatures besides the impressions of what they are and the shape have been found.”
It was all delivered in a calm, cool, and considered voice. A dispassionate statement of his case, just like a lawyer defending something he knew was wrong, impressed me more than the pretentions of the other four. Unfortunately for them, this was a minor problem that they should all be able to handle by themselves. I didn’t really care that they weren’t Guild Initiates with the proper training and gear, but it was a simple case of the gremlins, Central American style. A guy with the stick could do the job. It would just take a while with a lot of frustration and cursing to make sure you whacked them all. I blinked to relieve their tension.
“So? You all can do it. Get a bat and go swinging.”
It was as close to a curt dismissal as one could make to those at least half a decade senior to one’s self. I turned and started to head back to the stairwell, when another man dashed in and began frantically whispering to them. I did manage to catch some of the words. The implication that I was a worthless fraud made me grind my teeth, as well as the implication that this was all something out of a kid’s range of ability to believe, another slight that pissed me off.
“Told you… no one believes some man-sized lizard thing prowls the dark…”
Well, hell, no one had told me about that. Especially the next bit that said the thing talked in their heads. I didn’t pause, but quickly walked up the stairwell. I ignored my Dad, still contentedly sipping on the second can, and pulled the screen back up. The Guild.net screen showed my homepage, with a glittering bar with 105 on the stylized red patterns. I twitched a smile, and saw the second one with 35 on the bar below it. However, whatever the hell the thing was it sounded nasty. I had some clues, and punched in the relevant information. The information came up with a long list of names, but I narrowed the search down to about ten, scanning the types. And it was quite interesting indeed. I thought the damn things were extinct. I entered a query and quarry report, noting the information unreliable, even if it was anything but before sending a report out to the main server. I was smiling now.
The next thing I did was look up some tactics and information, plugging it into a side simulator that spat out some information on the type of tactics we should use. I clicked the staff and bow of the three. It would be the least conspicuous at a movie theater, and my Dad’s best weapons. It was enough.
“Dad, job.”
I left the room and he echoed my thoughts as he looked at the screen. No doubt scratching his head as he proclaimed, “Damn, I thought those things were extinct.”
This was one quarry that every Hunter worth the name would be after. Not for the bounty, which while not inconsiderable on this pre-historian horror, but for the bragging rights. Ketatsu…
I was back down stairs, and this time glaring at the four incompetent musketeers.
“Get out of here. You are all done. This is the real deal, and none of you thought to mention the important details. Go. Don’t stay, beat it, past the interstate. Don’t come pack until you have something worth bragging over. Get lost.”
They glared at me. I glared back. I had killed a dragon; the best they had seen was a lesser lycanthrope pack leader, and I was the one who killed the poor bitch. Guess who won this one. They left grumbling about “how they hell should I know what the important details were,” as if a man-sized lizard that used a functional equivalent to telepathy was something not worth mentioning. I didn’t even care that they were pissed off.
“You, where is this place. I will take the job.”
Prologue- Part 1
“Does Betty know you are paying for part of her tuition?”
Does Betty know I am paying for her tuition? The words snapped me out of my daze, and I stopped staring at the computer screen to look at the familiar voice. Hmm… probably not.
“That I am paying for a fifth of the loans? No. I saw no reason to tell her, and I doubt the government cares who pays it money.”
I hit the escape button to set the computer to sleep, blank blackness covering up the Guild.net screen. I half-swiveled the fake leather desk chair to face my father, Isaac. Despite the fact that he was also in the guild, my records and scores were still personal. While I doubted my dad would ever try to one up me, especially since he was my partner, any research I conducted was still personal. I still hadn’t forgiven my mother’s side of the family for the recurring nightmares from the potentia incidents, and as a result become so paranoid even J. Edgar Hoover as the head of the FBI would have approved.
Isaac, my Dad, snorted. Considering he was a conservative republican, his low estimate of the current gubermental nonsense was easy to provoke. However, given the current level of corruption in the federal government, again, despite assurances and promises to reduce it otherwise, I found it difficult to disagree with him. Besides, I was more under the authority of the High Council, and the Guild than the U.S. government. As formidable as the U.S. Military might be, one good wizard with a talent for havoc could short circuit every bit of equipment in ten mile radius. The things besides evocations a good battle wizard or war mage could do with black magic would be frightening as hell. Literally. But, enough bullets could even take down an arch-demon, especially if they were backed up by a platoon of tanks or a couple JDAMs. So pissing off the normal human population was not a good idea either. You could take the fae’s word for it. Some of them were still bitter about it.
On the other hand, no one and nothing wanted to piss off the Guild. It was the equivalent of the NRA of the supernatural world, except for three crucial differences. The first being that every member absolutely knew how to use what they had for weapons. The second difference was that the active members were something like the special and black ops of the same supernatural veterans. The current head of the Guild was rumored to have taken out some decrepit Old One, by himself, after the thing had wiped out the rest of his team. Anyone who could take out something on the level of a demi-god, at least, was one bad customer. The third was the most important. We made money. Tons of it, in paper. The guild has the both the military might, wealth, and influence of the old British empire. However, we lacked the cohesion. Walking into one of the seven Houses of the Guild was an interesting exercise in survival.
Dad’s voice once again snapped me out of my contemplative haze. He had no doubt noticed my eyes glazing over
“You been sleeping enough?” The concern in his voice was touching, and I actually felt bad about the lie I was about to pass off.
“Ya. So what’s up?”
“I was wondering how school was going, considering you have been busy night and day hunting monsters. You also haven’t seen a vacation since you joined.”
I reclined back in my chair as I considered how to answer the question without seeming arrogant. I moved my hands behind my back in a nonchalant manner. It was a fair point.
“Well, it’s going fine now that I fixed the faraday cages for the electronics. Most of the necessary classes are online anyway, and most of the labs are cake compared to some of the things we have to cook up in the basement. I made a deal for pass/fail tests to cover for competency. So far, they have been mostly pleased.”
Dad grunted, and started speaking again, but the bell from the first floor, my ‘shop’ entrance rang.
“Hold that thought, Dad. Business calls.”
He cracked a can and sat down on the office futon, obviously not finished with this conversation. I waved, and half-closed the door behind me. It was only a couple of feet to the stairs, which I half-jumped down three or four at a time. Not that the two-story building had much, but the thrill of some kinds of physical activities were a rush all their own. It put me in a good mood that vanished the second I saw the four people who were in the store.
My smile faded at Alex, Jenny, Carter and Kevin. No doubt they were here to pester me about some minor job that probably was a hoax, or some kind of trick to be taught. They were like my groupies, but annoying. Still, they generally were good people, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with their juvenile responses to the ‘supernatural threat,’ which if they thought about in any real fashion, included him. The amusing and ironic part of all of this was that they were all older than me by at least five years. I also thought that encountering some horror would have instilled some caution, not some reckless confidence that I was always going to be there to bail their collective asses out of the fire. I wasn’t some superhero, always here to save the day.
“Yes?” I couldn’t help it if my voice was just a little peeved. The last three ‘cases’ had been a waste of my time. They had all been complete and utter jokes of situations which any one of the four could have handled with just a little grunt work of their own. Seriously, some electrical wire shorting out and causing some voltage to fault was not a supernatural occurrence; hell, it wasn’t even unusual.
I was not reassured as Alex’s voice, which he thought husky, deep and manly, which was also wrong on all accounts began babbling his newest surprise with the same sense of import as Columbus proclaiming the discovery of the New World.
“I found a real case this time. Some serious bad ju-ju man. You should help us out with it.”
I repressed rolling my eyes. Another thing that never ceased to amaze me about these imbeciles was the fact that they seemed to think that they were the first among equals here. Not a single one possessed a handgun above a 9 mm, which while fine against most humans, is not exactly something you want on something as tough as an elephant or a rhino. Alex’s hoarse, smoked out voice continued to grate on my nerves.
“Some old guy saw a lizard thing at the movies.”
The raspy voice was a bit uncertain now, like he said something stupid. Was I supposed to be surprised here? Someone saw something unnatural at the movies? Heaven forbid and call the media, the sky was falling. I continued to stare unblinkingly at all four. It would unnerve every single one of them. A felt a vicious thrill of anticipation it making them all shiver in their boots, or in Jenny’s maudlin case, stilettos. Carter’s much more mellifluous voice stepped in to help his faltering partner, and I shifted my gaze to his eyes. He stuttered out a hello, and shied back. Jenny tossed her hair nervously, and looked like she had been insulted. Probably the most intelligent of the bunch, but despite a werewolf nearly eating off her face, she was still lost in the wonder world of Twilight and Tolkien. I actually liked listening to her talk, because with no real qualms, she was pretty.
My voice appeared to cut like a knife given the way the first three flinched. All from a single word, “Details.” It made me give a humorless smile with teeth. It amused me, but something told me to start reassessing the case when Kevin began to speak. The man was in his mid-thirties and a military vet. More importantly, he had a head on his shoulders.
“There have been multiple sighting of green lizards the size of small dogs, all of which something like an iguana and one which looks like a chameleon. The owner of theater, Richard Maes, has already hired a security consultant to help deal with the infestation. No real details about the creatures besides the impressions of what they are and the shape have been found.”
It was all delivered in a calm, cool, and considered voice. A dispassionate statement of his case, just like a lawyer defending something he knew was wrong, impressed me more than the pretentions of the other four. Unfortunately for them, this was a minor problem that they should all be able to handle by themselves. I didn’t really care that they weren’t Guild Initiates with the proper training and gear, but it was a simple case of the gremlins, Central American style. A guy with the stick could do the job. It would just take a while with a lot of frustration and cursing to make sure you whacked them all. I blinked to relieve their tension.
“So? You all can do it. Get a bat and go swinging.”
It was as close to a curt dismissal as one could make to those at least half a decade senior to one’s self. I turned and started to head back to the stairwell, when another man dashed in and began frantically whispering to them. I did manage to catch some of the words. The implication that I was a worthless fraud made me grind my teeth, as well as the implication that this was all something out of a kid’s range of ability to believe, another slight that pissed me off.
“Told you… no one believes some man-sized lizard thing prowls the dark…”
Well, hell, no one had told me about that. Especially the next bit that said the thing talked in their heads. I didn’t pause, but quickly walked up the stairwell. I ignored my Dad, still contentedly sipping on the second can, and pulled the screen back up. The Guild.net screen showed my homepage, with a glittering bar with 105 on the stylized red patterns. I twitched a smile, and saw the second one with 35 on the bar below it. However, whatever the hell the thing was it sounded nasty. I had some clues, and punched in the relevant information. The information came up with a long list of names, but I narrowed the search down to about ten, scanning the types. And it was quite interesting indeed. I thought the damn things were extinct. I entered a query and quarry report, noting the information unreliable, even if it was anything but before sending a report out to the main server. I was smiling now.
The next thing I did was look up some tactics and information, plugging it into a side simulator that spat out some information on the type of tactics we should use. I clicked the staff and bow of the three. It would be the least conspicuous at a movie theater, and my Dad’s best weapons. It was enough.
“Dad, job.”
I left the room and he echoed my thoughts as he looked at the screen. No doubt scratching his head as he proclaimed, “Damn, I thought those things were extinct.”
This was one quarry that every Hunter worth the name would be after. Not for the bounty, which while not inconsiderable on this pre-historian horror, but for the bragging rights. Ketatsu…
I was back down stairs, and this time glaring at the four incompetent musketeers.
“Get out of here. You are all done. This is the real deal, and none of you thought to mention the important details. Go. Don’t stay, beat it, past the interstate. Don’t come pack until you have something worth bragging over. Get lost.”
They glared at me. I glared back. I had killed a dragon; the best they had seen was a lesser lycanthrope pack leader, and I was the one who killed the poor bitch. Guess who won this one. They left grumbling about “how they hell should I know what the important details were,” as if a man-sized lizard that used a functional equivalent to telepathy was something not worth mentioning. I didn’t even care that they were pissed off.
“You, where is this place. I will take the job.”
Kalaam- Shadow
- Join date : 2009-10-19
Posts : 205
Location : Colorado/New Mexico
Re: Forlorn Mists Ahead
by Kalaam Wed Dec 23, 2009 9:57 pm
Forlorn Mists Ahead Prologue – Part 2
The drive through Colorado was almost a pleasant four hours, except I become bored driving that long at the best of times and now I the same urgency to get there as man tied down to a Central American Anthill with honey slathered all over his nuts would be to leave. Needless to say, I did refrain from the “are we there yet,” but only because I was driving, and would not have been able to fall asleep in any case. And while this would be one of the few exceptions to that last situation, it was coming to an end as I parked and headed towards the massive building.
I had studied the blue prints, and despite the long drive, it was still only five o’clock. To be prepped in an hour and ready to roll out was definitely much better than any of my competitors could do for a similar job, and they had teams of people for the most part. Also, for once, I was uniquely positioned to be relatively close to the target of opportunity. Hallelujah, hail Mary, etc. This was almost worth calling the media for once I had got lucky; not just lucky, I hit the jackpot. I was almost jittery from adrenaline and excitement. For once I was acting my formidable two decades; this was going to be awesome.
I entered through back entrance towards the megaplex of entertainment. Ahh, Colorado Springs and its hockey fans were working in my favor. The World Arena was on the other side of town, but this place had no intention of supplanting it, although it was bigger. It housed a hockey rink, and Olympic sized pool complete with a separate diving well, a roller skating rink, a jungle gym built for adults that occasionally hosted massive laser tag contests, and the part that was haunted, which was a series of movie theaters. Whoever built this thing had more money than sense, which would also make sense if the owner was related to Billy Maes with the ability to sell anything to the stupid, gullible or bored.
Well, the back entrance provided me a way to blend in with my equivalents of college age, sans the mysterious powers and killing proclivities. Given what I was wearing, I would actually kind of blend in, at first sight anyway. CC kids were used weird and random shit going on to begin with. The loose hockey jersey covered a ballistic vest of Kevlar and enchanted leather, more than enough to stop this baddy’s claws. The same went with the pants under the jeans. The only weak points were my bare arm, throat and head. My hands were covered in black leather gloves which looked passably like those used In hockey, with some extreme differences, and the matted metal bracers were definitely outside normal fare. My hockey stick was just as unusual with braces at between every third of the stick. It was also carved with minute skill, and covered in a hard clear lacquer finish. While I would love to be able to claim such skill, and did to idiots who didn’t know better, I acknowledged my armorer as my superior in such things.
Anyway, I am generally regarded as good looking, with short cropped dark brown hair that slowly turned blond. Not because I wanted or paid money for it, but paid in sweat in the pool every day. The working of chlorine stopped for no man. From my physical efforts, I have a leanly muscled and athletic build. It all combined to make me look like one of the intramural college students fascinated with hockey, but not good enough to get on the school’s D 1 team.
I smiled slightly, with a fair amount of canine exposed as I walked through the locker rooms and back entrances. Dad would catch up pretty quickly going through the main entrance. Even if I was excited about getting this kill, I wasn’t stupid enough to draw undue attention, and the combination of both of use certainly would. While this was a violation of the hunting solo cardinal rule, not even monsters usually liked eating people in the midst of large crowds. Panicking mobs had been the trampling downfall of more than one stupid predator. Besides, if the info was right, it disliked broad daylight. Also, I was too excited to go in the slow way. Not the most professional aspect of this job, but we all have to realize our own limitations. So, I strolled through the back entrance of the locker rooms of this gigantic complex.
It was actually quite busy. I had hit a jackpot of activity, and that was said intramural hockey game, or rather tournament. So, I waved and smiled, keeping the stick diagonal across my back. Given the entire thing was co-ed teams, some of those smiles were genuine to a few people. Even if I am a wizard, I am still a guy, not a saint. No one expects a guy in his early twenties to be celibate and sane. Even so, I am professional enough to get the job done. Nothing would ruin the mood then suddenly being thrust into some horror movie where my date was going to her face eaten. Alas, work before play.
I moved through one of the access corridors up to the theater level. This place really was a maze, and the hastily scanned blue prints were still tucked into my jeans. Those were invaluable. I wasn’t even going deeply into the service areas that existed for this place. As I walked through the small hall, I imagined the size of this place was the problem. Like digging up old casinos in Las Vegas, there were probably some skeletons excavated here. The problem being was that the construction crew took one look at those impossible bones and went, “look guys, a hoax.” People being people; I don’t blame them, but I get hired to clean up the mess. Unfortunately for them, it wasn’t a hoax, and no doubt this guy got some bad press for people going missing during construction here.
I exited stage right of some movie showing. It was packed, despite it being an afternoon. I would have to find out the name of this one. It should be good to draw so many people, even before the commercials ended. The seats were packed, and a few people managed look at me in the fashion that I apparently deserved. They glared, and seemed to say, “no seats here.” I just wandered out of the theater into the hall. Also, I was still lucky, encountering a rather pimply faced sixteen year old no doubt cursing the fate that put him here.
I waved the three-dimensional glasses away and brought him in close. Of course, I do look something like a psycho, so the breaching of the subject to find the manager might just set him off. So, my general approach is that of looking for a relative. It tends to work pretty well, and the young man named Adam turned out to be quite helpful in my pursuits. He even went so far as to escort me to the old man. This would turn out well for Adam’s next raise. I do have to say one thing. Richard Maes no doubt hired the cheapest labor possible.
The manager was an elderly Asian man, probably with an ass for a father who named him Kim Chi. I took in polite Asian man. He had the look in his eyes. I shook his hand with a gentle firmness, and he smiled me. I also caught the glimpse of the protective amulet around the man’s next. He either believed, or someone in his family did. It was enough to do the job, if he had faith.
“I hired a defender. His name is Wayne Johnson. The right wing, third right, and the left hallway.”
“I’ll take care of it. If you meet a man named Isaac, send him my way.”
I waved and headed off. The guy standing at tickets took one look at my face and who I just talked to and turned away. If the manager approved, then this older guy wouldn’t give me a problem. I just smiled and flashed a piece of paper that looked like a ticket stub. He didn’t do anything as I headed around the dark purple hallways and carpet. There was a slight incline and a couple turns. The overhead lights flickered twice, and then went out. Shit.
I started jogging. There wasn’t any time to wait for Isaac to get his ass here. He was behind me, of that I had no doubt. Still, there was no time. The manager had clearly stated defender, singular. You never worked alone. Whatever it was just used some kind of magic to fry to lights. Hopefully, this was a primary effect, not a secondary one. I was not like the typical wizard. I had no spell book, I chanted no mystic sounding nonsense, and only occasionally did hand gestures. It was about focus and will. That mysterious crap only comes into play for lasting enchantments. Then it comes down to chemistry as much as anything else. Fortunately, I was good at chemistry. The bracers weren’t the best, but they were good enough to make some shields.
The engravings started burning red, a red tracer down the dark hallways. The adrenaline started flowing, and I stopped getting jittery. It was time to get down to business. I glanced back, checking for Dad. He wasn’t here yet. I started cursing in my head, while keeping a steady breathing pattern. The hair on the back of my head stood up, and I crashed around the corner. I was the cavalry, without the horses. And I was too late.
“Fuck.”
The thing was already there. I was horrified. I couldn’t see the thing clearly, but time began to slow down for watching it finish up with the security guard. Wayne was in his late fifties, pudgy, with some laugh lines around his eyes, now closed. The navy blue jacket and lighter blue buttoned down collared shirt wasn’t stained with blood, yet. I could almost hear the whimper. The thing was muscular, and hid in the shadows. But I could see the reptilian face and skull look back at me, the dark black eyes glittered in the dark. It was a dark brown or gray, and was built like weight lifter. Not only that, my darting eyes glanced down the hall, and found something just as bad. The movie would be getting out in a few minutes. This situation had gone to hell in a hand basket faster than I thought possible.
Everything still seemed slow, but I whipped the staff off my back and blasted it with blue stream of pure magic. The thing took the hit straight in the back, and barely flinched. It grabbed the man’s shirt and jerked him towards a nearby service door. This one looked older than the rest of the facility. My brows wrinkled. It ate my magic like candy, and was nearly gone, one taloned hand on the door. The metal door. There was an instant assessment. That man was dead. I hit the door with an arc of electricity. The blue-white flash snapped into the door and the thing’s hand didn’t release. It felt a surge of helpless rage and poured more power into the thing. I was going to kill it right here. The thing hissed in pain, and the door began to tremble. The staff arced even more voltage into the door and the thing shrieked. I smiled and kept it up until I felt the thing die.
The door swung shut as I smelled charred meat. I felt satisfaction in avenging the fallen security man, despite my heavy breathing. I started to stagger over, when I suddenly felt the urge to look up.
Qexatl was a loyal spawn. He was mine.
The thing was multi-colored over-sized iguana with folded wings. The head seemed humanoid, and the realization of what the thing was failed to stop his moving legs. It started to leap down from the open ceiling panel. I hunched my shoulders against the things claws. The momentum sent me to my knees and sent shooting pain against my shoulder. I blocked the upcoming ground with my face, and the world spun.
The next thing I saw was a multi-colored blur shooting for my throat. A desperate wrench in my left shoulder managed to interpose a hand in front of the thing, and grab onto it. I saw black soulless eyes rotate back as the mouth expanded far beyond what should have been natural. All I saw was a pink gullet and to two slits for poison. An instinctive jerk just brought the thing closer. It was nothing but gaping maw. I started fumbling for the hockey stick. Smaller green skinned lizards started attacking a few early leavers. I found it as the smaller, mono-colored versions of thing in front of me. I heard the screams of pain, and few roars of anger as they began to fight back and die.
The swung the serpent slowly against the wall, fumbling to my knees and whacking ineffectively with the curved end of the stick. The thing kept trying to swallow my arm, and I scrambled for ideas. My mind was blank. The stick just bounced off the hide, and I got an idea. I channeled pure light and the rest of my power into making the stick press down and leaned against the stick, slowing compressing and partly cutting the tough hide, trying to cut the thing in half. I lost track of the rest of the world as the thing managed to get around my hand, and began inexorably bending my thumb back. My heart pounded and I started slamming the stick down onto the thing repeatedly.
When my thumb broke, it recoiled slightly, and adrenaline shot to my heart. I slammed the head of the stick down in panic as the thing uncoiled straight for my throat. I slammed the stick down, picturing the energy cutting along the edge stick. It missed by half a millimeter as the stick pinned the thing down, and cut through a spine. It flopped over, and I slammed the head down, cutting through the rest of the body.
I stared at the dead thing for a few endless seconds. It didn’t talk in my head, and it didn’t move. I tried to stop hyperventilating unsuccessfully for a few seconds, and glanced around. The green mini-things were all dead in the originally form, spasming. I just killed a Quetatsul. I knew because these things were not supposed to be hunted, or killed. Mainly, they weren’t supposed to be able to die, or rather for even Master Hunters to be able to kill. I slowly raised the multi-colored head and stood up to the stunned awe and shock of the survivors. There were three or four. I won. Then my hand felt like I dipped in acid. The saliva was poisonous. I turned and looked down on the green things. I realized a few things. First, I had to treat this poison fast, in a way only a mage can. Second, I needed to do it now, before I turned into one of the green lizards. Third, my father was still missing.
I drew a circle in blood, and tossed the staff outside it. I collapsed to the ground, and jerked my finger back in place with a vicious black spike of pain that nearly caused me to pass out. The other survivors began to thrash. I sent my will into my blood, and set it on fire with magic. The blood burn was a last ditch effort for survival against poisons, and one of the few effective universal treatments for magic based substances. It hurt like hell. The pain is indescribable. It felt like every drop of blood in my body turned to molten lava, and hence the name. The problem with this is the pain can make you lose focus, and if the spell was uncontrolled, it was lethal. If you kept it together for too long, it was lethal. If you didn’t eliminate the poison entirely, the body was too depleted to hold it together, and it killed you.
Waves of red and black were endured until I could take it no more, and let it go. A few heavy breathes later, my brain frantically scrambled for excuses. This place was covered in blood, and there was no Guild bounty for what I just axed. I doubted Richard Maes would shell out for this mess either, and I didn’t want to take this to court. I leveraged myself up against the staff, and walked over to the door. I opened it, and the thing was gone except for char marks, as was the guard.
I slapped one of the other survivors awake and dialed a number. “Tell this man everything that happened. Tell him where you are. He will take care of you.” I started limping away, out of the theater. I would send a bill, and left the rest of the body behind. I was taking the head as proof. The Guild would get people here fast, and deal with the new reports. As a neutral organization, it was the preferred information broker for incidents too.
I stepped into a very squishy part of the carpet, and looked down. Red oozed away, down the soaked incline. Someone had died here, and where was my father? I looked around and noticed some telltale scratches on the walls. Isaac was either dead or taken. Otherwise, Dad would have found me by now. I limped out the door to the SUV. I waited for two hours, in blood soaked clothes and all where we were parked. He never showed. I was beginning to get angry now, and think things over. I had a list of questions, pages long.
I drove back to my place after popping a vicodin. The first that occurred to me was that they hired a defender, which had a specific connotation and meaning, and only one. The guy was a regular security guard. That situation was utterly wrong. I trusted the information with limited research, something I usually didn’t do. A Hunter, who wanted to live, usually didn’t. The trap was baited with something amazing, and how had those idiots managed to find a legitimate threat. The monster and guard were also gone. That thing wasn’t what was reported either. I had no idea what the hell it was. Even then, this was way out of the range for something central American, and mass sacrifice, while a common motif for them, wasn’t common in this country. It was too noticeable.
I woke up, in my bed, and swung over. I was finally fine, but my family wasn’t. My father was missing, and it was driving my family apart. Betty was worrying, and panicking about school in addition to everything else. Despite the large paycheck that had come in, and that I had sent to her, she was still worried. So was I. No one had found my father, but that pool of blood was definitely his. I tested it. It meant he was probably dead and I dead in the water. Before I did anything, I needed a team. I wanted to be an avenging hero, but I didn’t want to die. I walked softly over to my computer, and powered it on.
I did something unusual. I put an ad out over the Guild.net. This is usually not a sign of weakness, but the top players knew it was a sign of weakness for me, and some of them would be out for blood. Mine. I was too good, and too young for them not to try and pull down the new comer making them all look bad. So, no help was going to come from the pros. I had recruit from promising initiates, train them, equip them, and teach them, before being able to go after my father. The prospect of finding him, in any state was growing smaller by the day, and I had about a year of work ahead of me before I could even think about it. It burned in my gut, buy this wasn’t anything I was going to let lie, even if I had to wait a while. So, I sat there, accessing confidential information through Guild.net hacks, doing illegal research and waiting for some promising candidates to come to my attention.
The drive through Colorado was almost a pleasant four hours, except I become bored driving that long at the best of times and now I the same urgency to get there as man tied down to a Central American Anthill with honey slathered all over his nuts would be to leave. Needless to say, I did refrain from the “are we there yet,” but only because I was driving, and would not have been able to fall asleep in any case. And while this would be one of the few exceptions to that last situation, it was coming to an end as I parked and headed towards the massive building.
I had studied the blue prints, and despite the long drive, it was still only five o’clock. To be prepped in an hour and ready to roll out was definitely much better than any of my competitors could do for a similar job, and they had teams of people for the most part. Also, for once, I was uniquely positioned to be relatively close to the target of opportunity. Hallelujah, hail Mary, etc. This was almost worth calling the media for once I had got lucky; not just lucky, I hit the jackpot. I was almost jittery from adrenaline and excitement. For once I was acting my formidable two decades; this was going to be awesome.
I entered through back entrance towards the megaplex of entertainment. Ahh, Colorado Springs and its hockey fans were working in my favor. The World Arena was on the other side of town, but this place had no intention of supplanting it, although it was bigger. It housed a hockey rink, and Olympic sized pool complete with a separate diving well, a roller skating rink, a jungle gym built for adults that occasionally hosted massive laser tag contests, and the part that was haunted, which was a series of movie theaters. Whoever built this thing had more money than sense, which would also make sense if the owner was related to Billy Maes with the ability to sell anything to the stupid, gullible or bored.
Well, the back entrance provided me a way to blend in with my equivalents of college age, sans the mysterious powers and killing proclivities. Given what I was wearing, I would actually kind of blend in, at first sight anyway. CC kids were used weird and random shit going on to begin with. The loose hockey jersey covered a ballistic vest of Kevlar and enchanted leather, more than enough to stop this baddy’s claws. The same went with the pants under the jeans. The only weak points were my bare arm, throat and head. My hands were covered in black leather gloves which looked passably like those used In hockey, with some extreme differences, and the matted metal bracers were definitely outside normal fare. My hockey stick was just as unusual with braces at between every third of the stick. It was also carved with minute skill, and covered in a hard clear lacquer finish. While I would love to be able to claim such skill, and did to idiots who didn’t know better, I acknowledged my armorer as my superior in such things.
Anyway, I am generally regarded as good looking, with short cropped dark brown hair that slowly turned blond. Not because I wanted or paid money for it, but paid in sweat in the pool every day. The working of chlorine stopped for no man. From my physical efforts, I have a leanly muscled and athletic build. It all combined to make me look like one of the intramural college students fascinated with hockey, but not good enough to get on the school’s D 1 team.
I smiled slightly, with a fair amount of canine exposed as I walked through the locker rooms and back entrances. Dad would catch up pretty quickly going through the main entrance. Even if I was excited about getting this kill, I wasn’t stupid enough to draw undue attention, and the combination of both of use certainly would. While this was a violation of the hunting solo cardinal rule, not even monsters usually liked eating people in the midst of large crowds. Panicking mobs had been the trampling downfall of more than one stupid predator. Besides, if the info was right, it disliked broad daylight. Also, I was too excited to go in the slow way. Not the most professional aspect of this job, but we all have to realize our own limitations. So, I strolled through the back entrance of the locker rooms of this gigantic complex.
It was actually quite busy. I had hit a jackpot of activity, and that was said intramural hockey game, or rather tournament. So, I waved and smiled, keeping the stick diagonal across my back. Given the entire thing was co-ed teams, some of those smiles were genuine to a few people. Even if I am a wizard, I am still a guy, not a saint. No one expects a guy in his early twenties to be celibate and sane. Even so, I am professional enough to get the job done. Nothing would ruin the mood then suddenly being thrust into some horror movie where my date was going to her face eaten. Alas, work before play.
I moved through one of the access corridors up to the theater level. This place really was a maze, and the hastily scanned blue prints were still tucked into my jeans. Those were invaluable. I wasn’t even going deeply into the service areas that existed for this place. As I walked through the small hall, I imagined the size of this place was the problem. Like digging up old casinos in Las Vegas, there were probably some skeletons excavated here. The problem being was that the construction crew took one look at those impossible bones and went, “look guys, a hoax.” People being people; I don’t blame them, but I get hired to clean up the mess. Unfortunately for them, it wasn’t a hoax, and no doubt this guy got some bad press for people going missing during construction here.
I exited stage right of some movie showing. It was packed, despite it being an afternoon. I would have to find out the name of this one. It should be good to draw so many people, even before the commercials ended. The seats were packed, and a few people managed look at me in the fashion that I apparently deserved. They glared, and seemed to say, “no seats here.” I just wandered out of the theater into the hall. Also, I was still lucky, encountering a rather pimply faced sixteen year old no doubt cursing the fate that put him here.
I waved the three-dimensional glasses away and brought him in close. Of course, I do look something like a psycho, so the breaching of the subject to find the manager might just set him off. So, my general approach is that of looking for a relative. It tends to work pretty well, and the young man named Adam turned out to be quite helpful in my pursuits. He even went so far as to escort me to the old man. This would turn out well for Adam’s next raise. I do have to say one thing. Richard Maes no doubt hired the cheapest labor possible.
The manager was an elderly Asian man, probably with an ass for a father who named him Kim Chi. I took in polite Asian man. He had the look in his eyes. I shook his hand with a gentle firmness, and he smiled me. I also caught the glimpse of the protective amulet around the man’s next. He either believed, or someone in his family did. It was enough to do the job, if he had faith.
“I hired a defender. His name is Wayne Johnson. The right wing, third right, and the left hallway.”
“I’ll take care of it. If you meet a man named Isaac, send him my way.”
I waved and headed off. The guy standing at tickets took one look at my face and who I just talked to and turned away. If the manager approved, then this older guy wouldn’t give me a problem. I just smiled and flashed a piece of paper that looked like a ticket stub. He didn’t do anything as I headed around the dark purple hallways and carpet. There was a slight incline and a couple turns. The overhead lights flickered twice, and then went out. Shit.
I started jogging. There wasn’t any time to wait for Isaac to get his ass here. He was behind me, of that I had no doubt. Still, there was no time. The manager had clearly stated defender, singular. You never worked alone. Whatever it was just used some kind of magic to fry to lights. Hopefully, this was a primary effect, not a secondary one. I was not like the typical wizard. I had no spell book, I chanted no mystic sounding nonsense, and only occasionally did hand gestures. It was about focus and will. That mysterious crap only comes into play for lasting enchantments. Then it comes down to chemistry as much as anything else. Fortunately, I was good at chemistry. The bracers weren’t the best, but they were good enough to make some shields.
The engravings started burning red, a red tracer down the dark hallways. The adrenaline started flowing, and I stopped getting jittery. It was time to get down to business. I glanced back, checking for Dad. He wasn’t here yet. I started cursing in my head, while keeping a steady breathing pattern. The hair on the back of my head stood up, and I crashed around the corner. I was the cavalry, without the horses. And I was too late.
“Fuck.”
The thing was already there. I was horrified. I couldn’t see the thing clearly, but time began to slow down for watching it finish up with the security guard. Wayne was in his late fifties, pudgy, with some laugh lines around his eyes, now closed. The navy blue jacket and lighter blue buttoned down collared shirt wasn’t stained with blood, yet. I could almost hear the whimper. The thing was muscular, and hid in the shadows. But I could see the reptilian face and skull look back at me, the dark black eyes glittered in the dark. It was a dark brown or gray, and was built like weight lifter. Not only that, my darting eyes glanced down the hall, and found something just as bad. The movie would be getting out in a few minutes. This situation had gone to hell in a hand basket faster than I thought possible.
Everything still seemed slow, but I whipped the staff off my back and blasted it with blue stream of pure magic. The thing took the hit straight in the back, and barely flinched. It grabbed the man’s shirt and jerked him towards a nearby service door. This one looked older than the rest of the facility. My brows wrinkled. It ate my magic like candy, and was nearly gone, one taloned hand on the door. The metal door. There was an instant assessment. That man was dead. I hit the door with an arc of electricity. The blue-white flash snapped into the door and the thing’s hand didn’t release. It felt a surge of helpless rage and poured more power into the thing. I was going to kill it right here. The thing hissed in pain, and the door began to tremble. The staff arced even more voltage into the door and the thing shrieked. I smiled and kept it up until I felt the thing die.
The door swung shut as I smelled charred meat. I felt satisfaction in avenging the fallen security man, despite my heavy breathing. I started to stagger over, when I suddenly felt the urge to look up.
Qexatl was a loyal spawn. He was mine.
The thing was multi-colored over-sized iguana with folded wings. The head seemed humanoid, and the realization of what the thing was failed to stop his moving legs. It started to leap down from the open ceiling panel. I hunched my shoulders against the things claws. The momentum sent me to my knees and sent shooting pain against my shoulder. I blocked the upcoming ground with my face, and the world spun.
The next thing I saw was a multi-colored blur shooting for my throat. A desperate wrench in my left shoulder managed to interpose a hand in front of the thing, and grab onto it. I saw black soulless eyes rotate back as the mouth expanded far beyond what should have been natural. All I saw was a pink gullet and to two slits for poison. An instinctive jerk just brought the thing closer. It was nothing but gaping maw. I started fumbling for the hockey stick. Smaller green skinned lizards started attacking a few early leavers. I found it as the smaller, mono-colored versions of thing in front of me. I heard the screams of pain, and few roars of anger as they began to fight back and die.
The swung the serpent slowly against the wall, fumbling to my knees and whacking ineffectively with the curved end of the stick. The thing kept trying to swallow my arm, and I scrambled for ideas. My mind was blank. The stick just bounced off the hide, and I got an idea. I channeled pure light and the rest of my power into making the stick press down and leaned against the stick, slowing compressing and partly cutting the tough hide, trying to cut the thing in half. I lost track of the rest of the world as the thing managed to get around my hand, and began inexorably bending my thumb back. My heart pounded and I started slamming the stick down onto the thing repeatedly.
When my thumb broke, it recoiled slightly, and adrenaline shot to my heart. I slammed the head of the stick down in panic as the thing uncoiled straight for my throat. I slammed the stick down, picturing the energy cutting along the edge stick. It missed by half a millimeter as the stick pinned the thing down, and cut through a spine. It flopped over, and I slammed the head down, cutting through the rest of the body.
I stared at the dead thing for a few endless seconds. It didn’t talk in my head, and it didn’t move. I tried to stop hyperventilating unsuccessfully for a few seconds, and glanced around. The green mini-things were all dead in the originally form, spasming. I just killed a Quetatsul. I knew because these things were not supposed to be hunted, or killed. Mainly, they weren’t supposed to be able to die, or rather for even Master Hunters to be able to kill. I slowly raised the multi-colored head and stood up to the stunned awe and shock of the survivors. There were three or four. I won. Then my hand felt like I dipped in acid. The saliva was poisonous. I turned and looked down on the green things. I realized a few things. First, I had to treat this poison fast, in a way only a mage can. Second, I needed to do it now, before I turned into one of the green lizards. Third, my father was still missing.
I drew a circle in blood, and tossed the staff outside it. I collapsed to the ground, and jerked my finger back in place with a vicious black spike of pain that nearly caused me to pass out. The other survivors began to thrash. I sent my will into my blood, and set it on fire with magic. The blood burn was a last ditch effort for survival against poisons, and one of the few effective universal treatments for magic based substances. It hurt like hell. The pain is indescribable. It felt like every drop of blood in my body turned to molten lava, and hence the name. The problem with this is the pain can make you lose focus, and if the spell was uncontrolled, it was lethal. If you kept it together for too long, it was lethal. If you didn’t eliminate the poison entirely, the body was too depleted to hold it together, and it killed you.
Waves of red and black were endured until I could take it no more, and let it go. A few heavy breathes later, my brain frantically scrambled for excuses. This place was covered in blood, and there was no Guild bounty for what I just axed. I doubted Richard Maes would shell out for this mess either, and I didn’t want to take this to court. I leveraged myself up against the staff, and walked over to the door. I opened it, and the thing was gone except for char marks, as was the guard.
I slapped one of the other survivors awake and dialed a number. “Tell this man everything that happened. Tell him where you are. He will take care of you.” I started limping away, out of the theater. I would send a bill, and left the rest of the body behind. I was taking the head as proof. The Guild would get people here fast, and deal with the new reports. As a neutral organization, it was the preferred information broker for incidents too.
I stepped into a very squishy part of the carpet, and looked down. Red oozed away, down the soaked incline. Someone had died here, and where was my father? I looked around and noticed some telltale scratches on the walls. Isaac was either dead or taken. Otherwise, Dad would have found me by now. I limped out the door to the SUV. I waited for two hours, in blood soaked clothes and all where we were parked. He never showed. I was beginning to get angry now, and think things over. I had a list of questions, pages long.
I drove back to my place after popping a vicodin. The first that occurred to me was that they hired a defender, which had a specific connotation and meaning, and only one. The guy was a regular security guard. That situation was utterly wrong. I trusted the information with limited research, something I usually didn’t do. A Hunter, who wanted to live, usually didn’t. The trap was baited with something amazing, and how had those idiots managed to find a legitimate threat. The monster and guard were also gone. That thing wasn’t what was reported either. I had no idea what the hell it was. Even then, this was way out of the range for something central American, and mass sacrifice, while a common motif for them, wasn’t common in this country. It was too noticeable.
I woke up, in my bed, and swung over. I was finally fine, but my family wasn’t. My father was missing, and it was driving my family apart. Betty was worrying, and panicking about school in addition to everything else. Despite the large paycheck that had come in, and that I had sent to her, she was still worried. So was I. No one had found my father, but that pool of blood was definitely his. I tested it. It meant he was probably dead and I dead in the water. Before I did anything, I needed a team. I wanted to be an avenging hero, but I didn’t want to die. I walked softly over to my computer, and powered it on.
I did something unusual. I put an ad out over the Guild.net. This is usually not a sign of weakness, but the top players knew it was a sign of weakness for me, and some of them would be out for blood. Mine. I was too good, and too young for them not to try and pull down the new comer making them all look bad. So, no help was going to come from the pros. I had recruit from promising initiates, train them, equip them, and teach them, before being able to go after my father. The prospect of finding him, in any state was growing smaller by the day, and I had about a year of work ahead of me before I could even think about it. It burned in my gut, buy this wasn’t anything I was going to let lie, even if I had to wait a while. So, I sat there, accessing confidential information through Guild.net hacks, doing illegal research and waiting for some promising candidates to come to my attention.
Last edited by Kalaam on Tue Dec 29, 2009 2:27 am; edited 2 times in total
Kalaam- Shadow
- Join date : 2009-10-19
Posts : 205
Location : Colorado/New Mexico
Re: Forlorn Mists Ahead
by Kalaam Wed Dec 23, 2009 9:57 pm
Sign Up:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race: (Jonathan Darius only works with humans, and some half-humans or other things if they have a very good reason)
Appearance: (Description or photo are both acceptable)
Background History:
Guild Report: (An evaluation done by the Hunter on site, and an eye-witness account of what happened. This can be short if you wish.)
Reason for joining: (Jonathan is not known to train new recruits, and several other hunter organizations do it professionally, like a feeder system for professional sports.)
Miscellaneous: (Character quirks, existing interpersonal relationships, family, entertainment preference... whatever you want to add.)
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race: (Jonathan Darius only works with humans, and some half-humans or other things if they have a very good reason)
Appearance: (Description or photo are both acceptable)
Background History:
Guild Report: (An evaluation done by the Hunter on site, and an eye-witness account of what happened. This can be short if you wish.)
Reason for joining: (Jonathan is not known to train new recruits, and several other hunter organizations do it professionally, like a feeder system for professional sports.)
Miscellaneous: (Character quirks, existing interpersonal relationships, family, entertainment preference... whatever you want to add.)
Kalaam- Shadow
- Join date : 2009-10-19
Posts : 205
Location : Colorado/New Mexico
Let me know if you need more info
by Guest Wed Dec 30, 2009 9:05 pm
Name: Vincent Kurotsuki
Age:21
Gender:Male
Race: Human.Half Russian/Half Japanese
Appearance: 6' 0 Mostly straight shoulder length black hair(tends to shoot out in random directions in some places), cloudy grey eyes, perhaps not "handsome", but not hard on the eyes. Aside from his black trenchcoat, which he always wears, he pretty much throws on whatever he sees first thing in the morning, along with a pair of combat boots. Darker than a typical Russian, but paler than the japanese usually are.
Background History:His mother was Saya, a Hunter from the Kurotsuki clan, who are thought to be mortal descendants of Tsukiyomi, japanese goddess of the moon. She broke from the tradition of only marrying and procreating with blood relatives(it was thought that marrying outside of the family would dilute their divine blood), running away to America with Dospeh, a Russian hunter she had partnered with on several missions.They both continued to participate in missions while residing in America... it is believed that one of their last missions was related to their deaths. The specific details are unknown, but at the age of 6, both Dospeh and Saya were found dead in their home, without a mark on them, and no sign of a struggle. Vincent was taken in by his maternal grandfather, Tsurugi Kurotsuki, and raised, like all members of the family, to Hunt. Not that Nikolai has ever lived up to his expectations. He is constantly compared to his uncles, and in his grandfather's eyes, always falls short of them.
Guild Report: 11/25/04 "We cannot be absolutely certain of his involvement, as he isn't officially a member of the guild yet, and always manages to disappear before cleanup arrives, but judging from the description given by the survivor,and the damage done to the surroundings, we believe that it was indeed Nikolai Kurotsuki involved in this incident. A woman and her young son were walking home from the subway station late the previous night after visiting relatives for the holidays and found themselves stalked by a small coven of young vampires. The mother was brutally killed, torn to pieces right before the child's eyes. When they had finished with the mother, they circled the child, taunting him, preparing for the kill. The child cowered underneath a nearby bench, sure that he was about to die as well, when behind the circling pack of beasts, he noticed a figure silently walking up to the scene, completely unnoticed until he spoke the word "Parasites." and pulled an extremely long sword seemingly out of thin air. ". In any case, the boy said that after they noticed the young man's approach and turned their attention towards him instead, they immediately became noticeably nervous. The young man swung his sword from 20 feet away and the beast nearest the boy split in half from head to waist before turning to ash. He then held out his free hand and spoke what I'm assuming to be a short incantation. The boy says he heard a loud screeching sound and then his vision was obscurred by a gust of wind. When the wind subsided, the remaining three attackers were in pieces and the concrete where they stood was slashed to pieces. The young man walked over to the boy, and picked him up gently. The child then passed out from the shock. He awoke and a local hospital an hour later. It was shortly after that we received the call for cleanup. To only be 16 and handle something alone borders on terrifying. Will pass this information along to the scouters. With formal training, he could be a great asset. "
Reason for joining: To prove his worth - not to his family, to himself. He was helpless to protect his family, and he has sworn never to be helpless again. Getting stronger is of the utmost importance to him. That way, when he comes across whatever killed his parents, he can exact his revenge.
Miscellaneous: Abilities strengthen and weaken based on the cycles of the moon. It's thought that he loses his power on the nights of the moon as he has a habit of disappearing on those nights. Has something of an obsession with Manga and Anime. He also has a soft spot for children, as he doesn't want any child to grow up the way he did.
Age:21
Gender:Male
Race: Human.Half Russian/Half Japanese
Appearance: 6' 0 Mostly straight shoulder length black hair(tends to shoot out in random directions in some places), cloudy grey eyes, perhaps not "handsome", but not hard on the eyes. Aside from his black trenchcoat, which he always wears, he pretty much throws on whatever he sees first thing in the morning, along with a pair of combat boots. Darker than a typical Russian, but paler than the japanese usually are.
Background History:His mother was Saya, a Hunter from the Kurotsuki clan, who are thought to be mortal descendants of Tsukiyomi, japanese goddess of the moon. She broke from the tradition of only marrying and procreating with blood relatives(it was thought that marrying outside of the family would dilute their divine blood), running away to America with Dospeh, a Russian hunter she had partnered with on several missions.They both continued to participate in missions while residing in America... it is believed that one of their last missions was related to their deaths. The specific details are unknown, but at the age of 6, both Dospeh and Saya were found dead in their home, without a mark on them, and no sign of a struggle. Vincent was taken in by his maternal grandfather, Tsurugi Kurotsuki, and raised, like all members of the family, to Hunt. Not that Nikolai has ever lived up to his expectations. He is constantly compared to his uncles, and in his grandfather's eyes, always falls short of them.
Guild Report: 11/25/04 "We cannot be absolutely certain of his involvement, as he isn't officially a member of the guild yet, and always manages to disappear before cleanup arrives, but judging from the description given by the survivor,and the damage done to the surroundings, we believe that it was indeed Nikolai Kurotsuki involved in this incident. A woman and her young son were walking home from the subway station late the previous night after visiting relatives for the holidays and found themselves stalked by a small coven of young vampires. The mother was brutally killed, torn to pieces right before the child's eyes. When they had finished with the mother, they circled the child, taunting him, preparing for the kill. The child cowered underneath a nearby bench, sure that he was about to die as well, when behind the circling pack of beasts, he noticed a figure silently walking up to the scene, completely unnoticed until he spoke the word "Parasites." and pulled an extremely long sword seemingly out of thin air. ". In any case, the boy said that after they noticed the young man's approach and turned their attention towards him instead, they immediately became noticeably nervous. The young man swung his sword from 20 feet away and the beast nearest the boy split in half from head to waist before turning to ash. He then held out his free hand and spoke what I'm assuming to be a short incantation. The boy says he heard a loud screeching sound and then his vision was obscurred by a gust of wind. When the wind subsided, the remaining three attackers were in pieces and the concrete where they stood was slashed to pieces. The young man walked over to the boy, and picked him up gently. The child then passed out from the shock. He awoke and a local hospital an hour later. It was shortly after that we received the call for cleanup. To only be 16 and handle something alone borders on terrifying. Will pass this information along to the scouters. With formal training, he could be a great asset. "
Reason for joining: To prove his worth - not to his family, to himself. He was helpless to protect his family, and he has sworn never to be helpless again. Getting stronger is of the utmost importance to him. That way, when he comes across whatever killed his parents, he can exact his revenge.
Miscellaneous: Abilities strengthen and weaken based on the cycles of the moon. It's thought that he loses his power on the nights of the moon as he has a habit of disappearing on those nights. Has something of an obsession with Manga and Anime. He also has a soft spot for children, as he doesn't want any child to grow up the way he did.
Last edited by OneWingedAngel on Fri Jan 01, 2010 6:36 pm; edited 1 time in total
Guest- Guest
Re: Forlorn Mists Ahead
by Mustakrakish Fri Jan 01, 2010 6:06 pm
Name: Markus Kross
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian
Appearance: Markus stands at around 6’2, with a body built like a tank at 220 pounds. The former high school linebacker was a promising college prospect before he dropped out, and his current line of work has forced him to maintain the physique he earned on the gridiron. His wide shoulders, thick limbs, and broad chest are all covered in scars from cuts, bites, and burns. His brown hair is cut short, out of his green eyes and out of the way, and he likes to keep it that way. He may have been considered good looking, but three thin parallel scars run from his left ear and across his cheek: a parting gift from a werewolf right before Markus blew its brains out the back of its skull. His right arm is covered in tattoos from the wrist to elbow. The sleeve is a mosaic of different pictures and symbols all representing a different creature Markus has killed. Every new job is a new tattoo, and the sleeve acts a trophy rack for other Hunters to see. Clothing wise, Markus keeps it simple and practical: jeans, boots, shirt, and a beat up leather jacket are the usual attire, along with various pieces of equipment that he chooses depending on the job.
Background History: Markus Kross was your typical All-American kid. His family lived in a middle class home; he made good grades, was fairly popular, and was a star athlete. He had plans for a full ride scholarship to play football, and get a business degree like his father and take up the family insurance company. Life looked good for Markus Kross, until his entire family was brutally slaughtered in their home. Markus came home from practice when he was 18 to gore splattered walls and the mutilated bodies of his family. There was plenty of evidence, but the police were unconvinced that a human could do so much damage. The case was closed unsolved, and Markus soon became obsessed with finding his families killer. He dropped out of school, took all the insurance money and did his own investigation. Eventually he came across an old Hunter named Fredrick Olsen, and it was under Olsen’s guidance that Markus learned the basics of Hunting. However, Markus was not born of a Hunting family, and thus lacked the magical talents and years of training that all other Hunters possess due to their bloodlines. While disadvantaged, he was not discouraged, and found ways to bypass his inaptitude with engineering, chemistry, and brutality. Markus traveled with Olsen for a time as his apprentice, but he always resented being under the heel of another. Yet he knew he needed the experience of the older man to find his families killer, so he put up with his senior moments. All of his hard work finally paid off when he got to cut the head off of the vampire that ripped his family apart a year later. Now, Olsen is dead and Markus wanders from town to town, killing everything that haunts the night.
Administrator Evaluation of Guild Member 28817: Markus Kross
This man is a nightmare. Ever since his induction into the Guild he has been nothing but a pain in the ass for his superiors and a death sentence for his partners. Every single member he has encountered or worked with has filed a complaint against Kross, and his ejection from the Guild has been brought up numerous times to the Eviction Board. I do not even believe the matter should be considered, since the man has no formal training, and no ancestral inheritance to our organization.
Markus Kross refuses to follow many guidelines set down by our order that are meant to keep him and civilians safe. His methods of investigation and execution are brutal, foolhardy, and unorthodox. He has tortured several non-human informants, assaulted civilians, and has never performed a clean kill. The cleanup crews have to work twice as long at one of Markus’s sites than any other member, often because the walls are often completely plastered with gore and the bystanders are traumatized beyond repair by non-magical means.
Despite the long list of grievances the man has stacked up against himself, he still remains one of the most effective and promising young Hunters I have seen thus far. His lack of formal training seems to hinder him not at all, and for all of the mess he creates his record is unmatched. The list of kills the man possesses is the only reason why he still operates with the Guilds blessing; most impressive of which was a small coven of vampires. Kross raided the mansion with the help of two other members, both of which were naive and presumably had never heard his reputation. Unfortunately for the High Council, Kross was the only person to make it out of the building alive, and he refuses to disclose how he accomplished the task.
Therefore, it is with profound regret that I, Alabaster Reign, give Markus Kross my sponsorship. Lord help us all.
-Alabaster Reign, Senior Hunter and Scribe
Reason for joining: While revenge was the primary motivation for Markus to become a Hunter at first, he remains one simply because he gets a sadistic thrill from killing creatures of the netherworld.
Miscellaneous: Markus is rude, arrogant, and generally fairly unpleasant to be around. He hates authority figures, but hates anything non human even more. He kills not only for money, but because it’s just plain fun. He grudgingly takes partners, but only because he knows it’s near suicide to go after something without a little bit of cannon fodder. All in all, he’s a jackass, but he’s one of the best damn Hunters out there
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian
Appearance: Markus stands at around 6’2, with a body built like a tank at 220 pounds. The former high school linebacker was a promising college prospect before he dropped out, and his current line of work has forced him to maintain the physique he earned on the gridiron. His wide shoulders, thick limbs, and broad chest are all covered in scars from cuts, bites, and burns. His brown hair is cut short, out of his green eyes and out of the way, and he likes to keep it that way. He may have been considered good looking, but three thin parallel scars run from his left ear and across his cheek: a parting gift from a werewolf right before Markus blew its brains out the back of its skull. His right arm is covered in tattoos from the wrist to elbow. The sleeve is a mosaic of different pictures and symbols all representing a different creature Markus has killed. Every new job is a new tattoo, and the sleeve acts a trophy rack for other Hunters to see. Clothing wise, Markus keeps it simple and practical: jeans, boots, shirt, and a beat up leather jacket are the usual attire, along with various pieces of equipment that he chooses depending on the job.
Background History: Markus Kross was your typical All-American kid. His family lived in a middle class home; he made good grades, was fairly popular, and was a star athlete. He had plans for a full ride scholarship to play football, and get a business degree like his father and take up the family insurance company. Life looked good for Markus Kross, until his entire family was brutally slaughtered in their home. Markus came home from practice when he was 18 to gore splattered walls and the mutilated bodies of his family. There was plenty of evidence, but the police were unconvinced that a human could do so much damage. The case was closed unsolved, and Markus soon became obsessed with finding his families killer. He dropped out of school, took all the insurance money and did his own investigation. Eventually he came across an old Hunter named Fredrick Olsen, and it was under Olsen’s guidance that Markus learned the basics of Hunting. However, Markus was not born of a Hunting family, and thus lacked the magical talents and years of training that all other Hunters possess due to their bloodlines. While disadvantaged, he was not discouraged, and found ways to bypass his inaptitude with engineering, chemistry, and brutality. Markus traveled with Olsen for a time as his apprentice, but he always resented being under the heel of another. Yet he knew he needed the experience of the older man to find his families killer, so he put up with his senior moments. All of his hard work finally paid off when he got to cut the head off of the vampire that ripped his family apart a year later. Now, Olsen is dead and Markus wanders from town to town, killing everything that haunts the night.
Administrator Evaluation of Guild Member 28817: Markus Kross
This man is a nightmare. Ever since his induction into the Guild he has been nothing but a pain in the ass for his superiors and a death sentence for his partners. Every single member he has encountered or worked with has filed a complaint against Kross, and his ejection from the Guild has been brought up numerous times to the Eviction Board. I do not even believe the matter should be considered, since the man has no formal training, and no ancestral inheritance to our organization.
Markus Kross refuses to follow many guidelines set down by our order that are meant to keep him and civilians safe. His methods of investigation and execution are brutal, foolhardy, and unorthodox. He has tortured several non-human informants, assaulted civilians, and has never performed a clean kill. The cleanup crews have to work twice as long at one of Markus’s sites than any other member, often because the walls are often completely plastered with gore and the bystanders are traumatized beyond repair by non-magical means.
Despite the long list of grievances the man has stacked up against himself, he still remains one of the most effective and promising young Hunters I have seen thus far. His lack of formal training seems to hinder him not at all, and for all of the mess he creates his record is unmatched. The list of kills the man possesses is the only reason why he still operates with the Guilds blessing; most impressive of which was a small coven of vampires. Kross raided the mansion with the help of two other members, both of which were naive and presumably had never heard his reputation. Unfortunately for the High Council, Kross was the only person to make it out of the building alive, and he refuses to disclose how he accomplished the task.
Therefore, it is with profound regret that I, Alabaster Reign, give Markus Kross my sponsorship. Lord help us all.
-Alabaster Reign, Senior Hunter and Scribe
Reason for joining: While revenge was the primary motivation for Markus to become a Hunter at first, he remains one simply because he gets a sadistic thrill from killing creatures of the netherworld.
Miscellaneous: Markus is rude, arrogant, and generally fairly unpleasant to be around. He hates authority figures, but hates anything non human even more. He kills not only for money, but because it’s just plain fun. He grudgingly takes partners, but only because he knows it’s near suicide to go after something without a little bit of cannon fodder. All in all, he’s a jackass, but he’s one of the best damn Hunters out there
Last edited by Mustakrakish on Sat Jan 02, 2010 1:17 am; edited 1 time in total
Mustakrakish- Shadow
- Join date : 2009-08-18
Posts : 188
Age : 32
Re: Forlorn Mists Ahead
by DarkGoddess Sat Jan 02, 2010 12:20 am
Name: Jeremy Phlynn
Age: Twenty-seven
Gender: Male
Race: Human. Half Italian, half British.
Appearance:
Jeremy is strong, not one to be taken lightly. Though his face looks delicate and soft, he is not. He spent his entire life building his strength, speed and endurance, and it shows in his tall, muscled frame. His skin, perpetually fair as a child, is now darkly tanned and burnt from survival missions his dad used to send him on. His hair had, for most of his life, been long enough to fall into his eyes though when he was seventeen, he buzz-cut his hair so that the black stubble doesn't bother him at all. He also is rather obsessive about facial hair, more so prone to shaving it all off than letting it grow out.
Jeremy dresses roughly, though it serves his purposes. His attire typically consists of beat up, faded jeans and a baggy t-shirt on top, so that he can pack more ammunition than one may expect. Recently, he bought himself a pair of thin, wraparound shades as well, ones that would hide his eyes from the general public. Rounding out the clothes are his shoes. Typically they are just a plain pair of Vans, but sometimes his digs out his dad's old combat boots and wears them on the job.
Background History: Jeremy's entire life was about hunting. His dad's side of the family, though more than a little tad dotty, had been proud Hunters for nearly three-hundred years. From the young, tender age of three, he had been learning how to handle knives, how to tape them against his skinny torso to prevent them from being seen.
By the age of six, he had to become a mentor for his younger sister, Erin. It was difficult, considering he barely knew more than she did, even though he'd learnt the basics for three years, and this was only her first. Naturally, they had to be closely monitored when this happened. No, not for their safety but more for the safety of the family history. As siblings, it was perfectly normal for them to bicker. However, with sharp blades in their hands, their minor fights escalated to intense brawls.
On a side note, their mother's Italian family had been a roll with the flow type of family, taking things as they went and living without a thought for any sort of tradition. The British Hunters were completely opposite. Their taste for the old days, the old manners, and the old traditions both hindered and helped their survival. Connection to the past had taught them the ways of fighting, but they learned to adapt to new weapons and environments as well.
Anyway, when Jeremy and Erin were, respectfully, sixteen and thirteen, they went though plenty of challenges. Their years of training together had gotten them to be close, much closer than siblings could ever be. Sure, they still fought, but the minor arguements no longer bothered them. They made the perfect team.
It was at this time that Jeremy had decided to come out to his family. Erin had known for a long time that her older brother was gay. She didn't have a problem with it. But Jeremy wished others in his family felt that way. Instead of trying to cope with it, they tried to send him on his first quest, in order to save his soul. He succeeded, though with a heavy cost.
Nowadays, Jeremy is estranged with his Dad's side of the family. He still celebrates holidays with his mother and her family, but even so, he still wishes that his father would accept him.
Guild Report: (An evaluation done by the Hunter on site, and an eye-witness account of what happened. This can be short if you wish.)
Monday, June 28, 1999
Mission Report of Potential Guild Member No. 186355: Jeremy Stratis Phlynn
Audio Record
Static, followed by a steady clicking noise. Silence for a moment.
Richard Hawk: All set, Destrig.
Destrig Mordur: All right.
Shuffling as the microphone is shifted to Mordur.
Mordur: Mission report for potential Guild Member, No. 186355. Jeremy Stratis Phlynn.
Two days ago, Phlynn was sent on his first mission, on recommendation of his father, Sebastian Phlynn. There was a pack of Lycanthropes that had recently been attacking a town, and he along with his sister, Erin Thebes Phlynn. To save confusion, I will refer to Jeremy by his surname, and his sister by her given name.
They arrived in the town, unaware that I was watching them. Sebasian is a dear friend of mine, and I had given him my word that I would watch them for him. They found the track of the pack quickly, and followed it to an old building, scheduled for demolition. They were doing very well, for rookies. But they were overconfident, as made evident when they just waltzed right into the building. I didn't follow them in, but they weren't there long. Phlynn and Erin ran out onto the rooftop, followed by at least a dozen Lycanthropes. Phlynn managed to get off a few shots, and killed three of them. One of them, however, managed to sneak up on Erin. He grabbed her, and pulled her away from Phlynn. The two of them fell--or jumped, I couldn't tell--off the side of the building. Naturally, the Lycanthrope landed easily, but Erin twisted her ankle.
Meanwhile, Phlynn didn't seem to notice. He was focussed on the task at hand, as far as I could tell. He killed two more--once again, surprisingly well for a rookie--then jumped off the building, grabbing onto a fire escape on the building on the other side of the street. He winced. He must have jarred his wrist, I've done that before. But it didn't stop him as he proceeded to climb to the ground. Now I could see the stark, near-catonic look on his face. It was obvious he wanted to go after his sister, but I wasn't going to risk him hurting himself as well. I had to intervene, especially since it looked as if his wrist was hurt.
I took him home to his father, and he didn't say a word. He didn't cry, but it looked as if he were on the verge of tears. When he saw his father, his face hardened and he actually glared at his father. As far as I know, no one has ever done that to him.
Phlynn's words were harsh. "It's your fault she's gone." Was all he said to Sebastian before running angrily to his room. I tried to follow, but he didn't let me in his room.
A long pause. Shuffling as the microphone is passed to Hawk.
Hawk: Is that all?
Mordur: Yeah. I don't want to discuss this anymore. Mission report ended.
Friday, August 15, 1999
Evaluation of Potential Guild Member No. 186355: Jeremy Stratis Phlynn
Audio Record
Destrig Mordur: Sighs Here we go again.
Richard Hawk: We can do this later if you want, Destrig.
Mordur: No, better do it--
Breaks off into a fit of coughing.
Hawk: Listen, Destrig--
Mordur: No, let's do it now. Sebastian won't do anything for him, and no one else has been watching him. It's me or no one else.
A deep breath, followed by a stifled cough.
Mordur: Evaluation of Potential Guild Member No. 186355: Jeremy Stratis Phlynn.
Phlynn has developed very well in the past two months. He has always been good with hand-to-hand fighting. He's strong. His muscles are well conditioned for fighting, not for running, though he seems to be able to run well if need be. His aim with a gun is pretty good, much better than what it had been at the beginning. A slight problem: He still has a tendency to carry his gun in his belt when it would be better served in his hands. He needs to learn when it's better to have it in his hands, but that will come with experience.
Phlynn, as far as I can tell, is smart, and good at putting one and one together. He picks up tracks quickly, and has learned to be wary if the tracks are too clear. On testing, he has shown competence in identifying different marks, for example, he knows whether a set of tracks belong to a Lycanthrope or a Dragon. That's very simple to tell apart, but he can also tell whether it was a Dragon that left the marks or a Wyvern, which is definitely more difficult.
His mental stability is strong, that's for sure. He seems to be able to accept changes to the flow easily, and without any disruption in his decision-making skills. However, Phlynn doesn't seems to show much personality at all, unless with someone he knows well. His face is always kept carefully impassive, and it gives nothing away. Though it isn't healthy to bottle up whatever feelings he's having, I do have to admit that I'm surprised. I don't know anyone so adept at hiding their feelings.
Another coughing fit. This one, longer and harsher than before.
Hawk: Okay, Destrig. You need to see a doctor for that. I'm cutting this evaluation off.
Mordur: No! Just let me finish.
I, Destrig Mordur, Senior Hunter, give Jeremy Stratis Phlynn my sponsorship for being a Hunter. I don't care if that's the right way to say it, but I am.
Report closed.
Reason for joining: Tradition. Frustration. Hunting is all the Jeremy knows, and that is why he does it.
Miscellaneous: Jeremy is gay, though he has had relationships with females. It isn't that he doens't like women, it's that he prefers men.
Age: Twenty-seven
Gender: Male
Race: Human. Half Italian, half British.
Appearance:
Jeremy is strong, not one to be taken lightly. Though his face looks delicate and soft, he is not. He spent his entire life building his strength, speed and endurance, and it shows in his tall, muscled frame. His skin, perpetually fair as a child, is now darkly tanned and burnt from survival missions his dad used to send him on. His hair had, for most of his life, been long enough to fall into his eyes though when he was seventeen, he buzz-cut his hair so that the black stubble doesn't bother him at all. He also is rather obsessive about facial hair, more so prone to shaving it all off than letting it grow out.
Jeremy dresses roughly, though it serves his purposes. His attire typically consists of beat up, faded jeans and a baggy t-shirt on top, so that he can pack more ammunition than one may expect. Recently, he bought himself a pair of thin, wraparound shades as well, ones that would hide his eyes from the general public. Rounding out the clothes are his shoes. Typically they are just a plain pair of Vans, but sometimes his digs out his dad's old combat boots and wears them on the job.
Background History: Jeremy's entire life was about hunting. His dad's side of the family, though more than a little tad dotty, had been proud Hunters for nearly three-hundred years. From the young, tender age of three, he had been learning how to handle knives, how to tape them against his skinny torso to prevent them from being seen.
By the age of six, he had to become a mentor for his younger sister, Erin. It was difficult, considering he barely knew more than she did, even though he'd learnt the basics for three years, and this was only her first. Naturally, they had to be closely monitored when this happened. No, not for their safety but more for the safety of the family history. As siblings, it was perfectly normal for them to bicker. However, with sharp blades in their hands, their minor fights escalated to intense brawls.
On a side note, their mother's Italian family had been a roll with the flow type of family, taking things as they went and living without a thought for any sort of tradition. The British Hunters were completely opposite. Their taste for the old days, the old manners, and the old traditions both hindered and helped their survival. Connection to the past had taught them the ways of fighting, but they learned to adapt to new weapons and environments as well.
Anyway, when Jeremy and Erin were, respectfully, sixteen and thirteen, they went though plenty of challenges. Their years of training together had gotten them to be close, much closer than siblings could ever be. Sure, they still fought, but the minor arguements no longer bothered them. They made the perfect team.
It was at this time that Jeremy had decided to come out to his family. Erin had known for a long time that her older brother was gay. She didn't have a problem with it. But Jeremy wished others in his family felt that way. Instead of trying to cope with it, they tried to send him on his first quest, in order to save his soul. He succeeded, though with a heavy cost.
Nowadays, Jeremy is estranged with his Dad's side of the family. He still celebrates holidays with his mother and her family, but even so, he still wishes that his father would accept him.
Guild Report: (An evaluation done by the Hunter on site, and an eye-witness account of what happened. This can be short if you wish.)
Monday, June 28, 1999
Mission Report of Potential Guild Member No. 186355: Jeremy Stratis Phlynn
Audio Record
Static, followed by a steady clicking noise. Silence for a moment.
Richard Hawk: All set, Destrig.
Destrig Mordur: All right.
Shuffling as the microphone is shifted to Mordur.
Mordur: Mission report for potential Guild Member, No. 186355. Jeremy Stratis Phlynn.
Two days ago, Phlynn was sent on his first mission, on recommendation of his father, Sebastian Phlynn. There was a pack of Lycanthropes that had recently been attacking a town, and he along with his sister, Erin Thebes Phlynn. To save confusion, I will refer to Jeremy by his surname, and his sister by her given name.
They arrived in the town, unaware that I was watching them. Sebasian is a dear friend of mine, and I had given him my word that I would watch them for him. They found the track of the pack quickly, and followed it to an old building, scheduled for demolition. They were doing very well, for rookies. But they were overconfident, as made evident when they just waltzed right into the building. I didn't follow them in, but they weren't there long. Phlynn and Erin ran out onto the rooftop, followed by at least a dozen Lycanthropes. Phlynn managed to get off a few shots, and killed three of them. One of them, however, managed to sneak up on Erin. He grabbed her, and pulled her away from Phlynn. The two of them fell--or jumped, I couldn't tell--off the side of the building. Naturally, the Lycanthrope landed easily, but Erin twisted her ankle.
Meanwhile, Phlynn didn't seem to notice. He was focussed on the task at hand, as far as I could tell. He killed two more--once again, surprisingly well for a rookie--then jumped off the building, grabbing onto a fire escape on the building on the other side of the street. He winced. He must have jarred his wrist, I've done that before. But it didn't stop him as he proceeded to climb to the ground. Now I could see the stark, near-catonic look on his face. It was obvious he wanted to go after his sister, but I wasn't going to risk him hurting himself as well. I had to intervene, especially since it looked as if his wrist was hurt.
I took him home to his father, and he didn't say a word. He didn't cry, but it looked as if he were on the verge of tears. When he saw his father, his face hardened and he actually glared at his father. As far as I know, no one has ever done that to him.
Phlynn's words were harsh. "It's your fault she's gone." Was all he said to Sebastian before running angrily to his room. I tried to follow, but he didn't let me in his room.
A long pause. Shuffling as the microphone is passed to Hawk.
Hawk: Is that all?
Mordur: Yeah. I don't want to discuss this anymore. Mission report ended.
Friday, August 15, 1999
Evaluation of Potential Guild Member No. 186355: Jeremy Stratis Phlynn
Audio Record
Destrig Mordur: Sighs Here we go again.
Richard Hawk: We can do this later if you want, Destrig.
Mordur: No, better do it--
Breaks off into a fit of coughing.
Hawk: Listen, Destrig--
Mordur: No, let's do it now. Sebastian won't do anything for him, and no one else has been watching him. It's me or no one else.
A deep breath, followed by a stifled cough.
Mordur: Evaluation of Potential Guild Member No. 186355: Jeremy Stratis Phlynn.
Phlynn has developed very well in the past two months. He has always been good with hand-to-hand fighting. He's strong. His muscles are well conditioned for fighting, not for running, though he seems to be able to run well if need be. His aim with a gun is pretty good, much better than what it had been at the beginning. A slight problem: He still has a tendency to carry his gun in his belt when it would be better served in his hands. He needs to learn when it's better to have it in his hands, but that will come with experience.
Phlynn, as far as I can tell, is smart, and good at putting one and one together. He picks up tracks quickly, and has learned to be wary if the tracks are too clear. On testing, he has shown competence in identifying different marks, for example, he knows whether a set of tracks belong to a Lycanthrope or a Dragon. That's very simple to tell apart, but he can also tell whether it was a Dragon that left the marks or a Wyvern, which is definitely more difficult.
His mental stability is strong, that's for sure. He seems to be able to accept changes to the flow easily, and without any disruption in his decision-making skills. However, Phlynn doesn't seems to show much personality at all, unless with someone he knows well. His face is always kept carefully impassive, and it gives nothing away. Though it isn't healthy to bottle up whatever feelings he's having, I do have to admit that I'm surprised. I don't know anyone so adept at hiding their feelings.
Another coughing fit. This one, longer and harsher than before.
Hawk: Okay, Destrig. You need to see a doctor for that. I'm cutting this evaluation off.
Mordur: No! Just let me finish.
I, Destrig Mordur, Senior Hunter, give Jeremy Stratis Phlynn my sponsorship for being a Hunter. I don't care if that's the right way to say it, but I am.
Report closed.
Reason for joining: Tradition. Frustration. Hunting is all the Jeremy knows, and that is why he does it.
Miscellaneous: Jeremy is gay, though he has had relationships with females. It isn't that he doens't like women, it's that he prefers men.
Last edited by DarkGoddess on Mon Jan 04, 2010 7:06 am; edited 2 times in total
DarkGoddess- Shadow
- Join date : 2009-12-19
Posts : 224
Age : 31
Location : Plutonian
Re: Forlorn Mists Ahead
by quakernuts Sat Jan 02, 2010 12:39 am
Name: Sean Huron
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian
Appearance: Sean stands at a small 5’9, with piercing sky blue eyes. His hair is a light brown, and often cut short and spiked up in the front with gel. Weighing in at 185 pounds of lean muscle, Sean can easily draw attention to himself if he needed to. His face is considerably baby smooth despite his record, and the only souvenirs he ever keeps are the scars from which he is stricken down with. There is a long one all across his back, from his left shoulder going diagonally down his back all the way to his right hip. The scar is roughly three inches wide, and looks like it hasn’t been properly healed. Sean can often be seen wearing a black jacket with red stripes on the sleeves. The jacket is well worn, and color is rubbed out in several places, but it is difficult to see them without a light. Along with this, he prefers to wear T-shirts underneath, even in the winter. Most of the shirts have sayings on them, or insults to whoever is reading them. To complete the attire, he is always wearing blue jeans that are slightly baggy at the ankles. He has never been seen wearing any other form of pants. He also wears white running shoes that are covered in so much dirt and grime that they look brown at first glance. Overall, Sean looks just like every other twenty year old walking down the street, unless he decides to bring attention to himself.
Background History: Born into the Hunter clan Huron, it was easy to see where Sean got his hunting prowess from. It was never easy for him particularly however. All the other children seemed to understand everything long before Sean even grasped the meaning of the lesson. Sean was always slow, and his instructors and trainers saw this as weakness. He was quickly isolated from the main group, and was trained away from anyone else, lest he should drag them down with his inadequacy. It was through these years that Sean soon learned to hate the instructors for what they really were. They were hypocrites. They preached and taught about destroying monsters from the netherworld, but they were monsters on their own. They only trained the already strong, and banished anyone that could not meet their high standards. This was the way Sean saw it for many years, and it wasn’t until the evaluation that he proved his worth to the clan.
For the evaluation, it was for the trainees to go out and kill their first netherworld monster. Every clan had their own way of training their young, but this was one of the worst ideas for an evaluation they had ever done. At least, that’s what Sean thought. They were sent out in pairs in search of a beast called a Minotaur. Sean knew what it was, and knew that it preferred dark, closed spaces. Soon, everyone was heading into the sewers in order to find the beast, and kill it. The pair to find the beast, and return its head to the clan would be accepted as full fledged members of the clan. Sean was at a disadvantage. He had been separated from the children for a long time, and had no idea what the others were capable of. Himself, he was more proficient in firearms then he would ever be in magic. In fact, he gave up magic entirely for awhile to simply focus on weapons of a technological nature. His partner, who he didn’t care to learn the name of, was obviously the same way, but still carried a staff of sorts on his back. It looked like a lacrosse stick, but Sean didn’t say anything.
It had been three days before any of them even got a clue, and it was a major blow to the initiates. Sean stumbled across what used to be another pair of initiates. They had been so thoroughly beaten to a pulp that they were barely recognizable as humans. It was only by a staff lodged into the wall that they realized just who the smears on the ground were. It was at this point that other initiates started showing up dead, much in the same way as the first. Communication had been cut off between pairs, but as Sean started to count the pairs that were dead, he started to worry. They had gone in here with twenty two initiates, and already they had found nine pairs. That meant that only one other pair was alive or not found other then their own. Soon, they found the tenth pair, and nearly panicked as they realized the beast had killed every other person of in the sewers.
They continued on, unable to leave because of their oath to the clan. It was when they turned the next corner that the nightmare really started. Sean’s partner was suddenly not there. A huge blur rammed him into the wall behind them, and splattered him into past without a thought. Sean was pulling out his twin M9’s as the beast turned around. There was something wrong with it, like it was diseased or something. The beast was easily ten feet tall, but instead of a healthy head of fur, there were patches of skin in between. The beast’s skin was peeling in places, and on the arms, muscle was clearly visible. Something had poisoned the beast. Sean reasoned in his mind that it could have been one of the other initiates, and opened fire with his pistols. The beast was incredibly fast for its size, and in the cramped areas of the sewers, it was a death wish for anyone facing it.
The Minotaur absorbed the bullets like rain on a jacket. The beast simply picked up speed, and Sean barely avoided getting rammed by sliding against the wall. It kept running, and after another twenty yards, came to a stop. It turned around, but Sean was ready. Whipping his Barrett .50 cal off of his back, he sighted the beast through the scope. The Minotaur roared a challenge, and charged. Sean fired shot after shot into the beast, and just when the beast reached within a foot of Sean, it fell dead. Its momentum continued to slide the body forward into Sean, who was easily knocked over by the Minotaur’s weight. It was done. The creature was dead, but so was every other initiate. What had his clan done?
Sean returned to the clan with the head in his hand. The clan was surprised to see Sean, and only Sean, bringing the head back. He quickly explained to the clan that the rest of the initiates were dead because of the ritual, and that only in sheer luck did he end up killing the thing. The clan simply cast this aside as irrelevant and asked him to come up and join the clan. Sean threw the Minotaur head at the leaders of the council, and walked away. He would have nothing to do with the clan, but he would always be a hunter.
Evaluation of Hunter Sean Huron, 2/21/05
I honestly do not know what to make of Mr. Huron. His ability in the field of magic is less than our standard average by two whole points, yet his average in the field of technological weaponry is next to unbelievable. I think this is to cover up the fact that he knows next to nothing about magic, but is it really a good tradeoff? There have been…situations in his records where the use of magic probably would have been very helpful. However, getting back on subject here, his ability in the fields is not for my concern. That is for the administrative board to determine whether or not he needs to be pulled back for further training. Sean appears to be a friendly person who doesn’t have a hard time making new friends; odd, considering his history, but moving on. Sean has been a credit to the guild, and many of his targets have been taken down with minimal human causalities. Among these is the Main street incident.
While records are fuzzy as to what exactly happened, apparently there was a breakout of what appeared to be demons, or humanity’s view of demons; flying creatures that are blood red and feast on the flesh of anyone close to them. The creatures exploded through the street during the evening, when everyone was heading back home after a long day’s work. The demons then quickly started attacking everything near them. According to the official report, there were at least ten, and when Sean finished, there were none. Apparently, he had heard about a nest of demons preparing to attack downtown, and had set up in a building a good seven hundred yards away with a good view of the street. As soon as the creatures burst out, it was a shooting range. There were many accounts of a demon flying towards a civilian, and then the demon would drop dead in front of them. A hole the size of their fist would be in the demons head. The demons were killed within fifteen minutes of them surfacing in the street. Cleanup crews were dispatched a few minutes later.
Now, I have no doubt that Sean was indeed capable of such feats of marksmanship, what I am suspicious of however is how he knew they were going to surface, and when they were going to surface. He never fully answered the question, answering that he was going off of his intuition, adrenaline, and a whole night without sleep. I recommend him for continued use in the region, with a definitive note on his lack of magical skills. Anyone willing to partner with him should most definitely know about this. Also, I would put on his permanent record the Main Street incident. This is something that will no doubt come up with other guild members, so it is best that we have a note of it, in case something comes to light.
Jacob Tillir, Administrative Assistant.
Reason for joining: While on the outside he is friendly, there is always that inward feeling of being better than the next guy. He wants to be able to say he is better than someone, something he’s never been able to say in his life. He joined, and continues to stay in the guild because of this simple way of thinking. It is through this he drives himself, and is now one of the most determined Hunters that the guild can ask for, if somewhat inexperienced.
Miscellaneous: When Sean gets nervous, he tends to crack jokes in hopes of lightening the situation. He is also known for never getting angry at another human; however he often uses his hunting as an outlet for any built up anger. Along with this, he is also very talented in playing the drums, and practices on them whenever he feels the need to let loose without shooting something.
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian
Appearance: Sean stands at a small 5’9, with piercing sky blue eyes. His hair is a light brown, and often cut short and spiked up in the front with gel. Weighing in at 185 pounds of lean muscle, Sean can easily draw attention to himself if he needed to. His face is considerably baby smooth despite his record, and the only souvenirs he ever keeps are the scars from which he is stricken down with. There is a long one all across his back, from his left shoulder going diagonally down his back all the way to his right hip. The scar is roughly three inches wide, and looks like it hasn’t been properly healed. Sean can often be seen wearing a black jacket with red stripes on the sleeves. The jacket is well worn, and color is rubbed out in several places, but it is difficult to see them without a light. Along with this, he prefers to wear T-shirts underneath, even in the winter. Most of the shirts have sayings on them, or insults to whoever is reading them. To complete the attire, he is always wearing blue jeans that are slightly baggy at the ankles. He has never been seen wearing any other form of pants. He also wears white running shoes that are covered in so much dirt and grime that they look brown at first glance. Overall, Sean looks just like every other twenty year old walking down the street, unless he decides to bring attention to himself.
Background History: Born into the Hunter clan Huron, it was easy to see where Sean got his hunting prowess from. It was never easy for him particularly however. All the other children seemed to understand everything long before Sean even grasped the meaning of the lesson. Sean was always slow, and his instructors and trainers saw this as weakness. He was quickly isolated from the main group, and was trained away from anyone else, lest he should drag them down with his inadequacy. It was through these years that Sean soon learned to hate the instructors for what they really were. They were hypocrites. They preached and taught about destroying monsters from the netherworld, but they were monsters on their own. They only trained the already strong, and banished anyone that could not meet their high standards. This was the way Sean saw it for many years, and it wasn’t until the evaluation that he proved his worth to the clan.
For the evaluation, it was for the trainees to go out and kill their first netherworld monster. Every clan had their own way of training their young, but this was one of the worst ideas for an evaluation they had ever done. At least, that’s what Sean thought. They were sent out in pairs in search of a beast called a Minotaur. Sean knew what it was, and knew that it preferred dark, closed spaces. Soon, everyone was heading into the sewers in order to find the beast, and kill it. The pair to find the beast, and return its head to the clan would be accepted as full fledged members of the clan. Sean was at a disadvantage. He had been separated from the children for a long time, and had no idea what the others were capable of. Himself, he was more proficient in firearms then he would ever be in magic. In fact, he gave up magic entirely for awhile to simply focus on weapons of a technological nature. His partner, who he didn’t care to learn the name of, was obviously the same way, but still carried a staff of sorts on his back. It looked like a lacrosse stick, but Sean didn’t say anything.
It had been three days before any of them even got a clue, and it was a major blow to the initiates. Sean stumbled across what used to be another pair of initiates. They had been so thoroughly beaten to a pulp that they were barely recognizable as humans. It was only by a staff lodged into the wall that they realized just who the smears on the ground were. It was at this point that other initiates started showing up dead, much in the same way as the first. Communication had been cut off between pairs, but as Sean started to count the pairs that were dead, he started to worry. They had gone in here with twenty two initiates, and already they had found nine pairs. That meant that only one other pair was alive or not found other then their own. Soon, they found the tenth pair, and nearly panicked as they realized the beast had killed every other person of in the sewers.
They continued on, unable to leave because of their oath to the clan. It was when they turned the next corner that the nightmare really started. Sean’s partner was suddenly not there. A huge blur rammed him into the wall behind them, and splattered him into past without a thought. Sean was pulling out his twin M9’s as the beast turned around. There was something wrong with it, like it was diseased or something. The beast was easily ten feet tall, but instead of a healthy head of fur, there were patches of skin in between. The beast’s skin was peeling in places, and on the arms, muscle was clearly visible. Something had poisoned the beast. Sean reasoned in his mind that it could have been one of the other initiates, and opened fire with his pistols. The beast was incredibly fast for its size, and in the cramped areas of the sewers, it was a death wish for anyone facing it.
The Minotaur absorbed the bullets like rain on a jacket. The beast simply picked up speed, and Sean barely avoided getting rammed by sliding against the wall. It kept running, and after another twenty yards, came to a stop. It turned around, but Sean was ready. Whipping his Barrett .50 cal off of his back, he sighted the beast through the scope. The Minotaur roared a challenge, and charged. Sean fired shot after shot into the beast, and just when the beast reached within a foot of Sean, it fell dead. Its momentum continued to slide the body forward into Sean, who was easily knocked over by the Minotaur’s weight. It was done. The creature was dead, but so was every other initiate. What had his clan done?
Sean returned to the clan with the head in his hand. The clan was surprised to see Sean, and only Sean, bringing the head back. He quickly explained to the clan that the rest of the initiates were dead because of the ritual, and that only in sheer luck did he end up killing the thing. The clan simply cast this aside as irrelevant and asked him to come up and join the clan. Sean threw the Minotaur head at the leaders of the council, and walked away. He would have nothing to do with the clan, but he would always be a hunter.
Evaluation of Hunter Sean Huron, 2/21/05
I honestly do not know what to make of Mr. Huron. His ability in the field of magic is less than our standard average by two whole points, yet his average in the field of technological weaponry is next to unbelievable. I think this is to cover up the fact that he knows next to nothing about magic, but is it really a good tradeoff? There have been…situations in his records where the use of magic probably would have been very helpful. However, getting back on subject here, his ability in the fields is not for my concern. That is for the administrative board to determine whether or not he needs to be pulled back for further training. Sean appears to be a friendly person who doesn’t have a hard time making new friends; odd, considering his history, but moving on. Sean has been a credit to the guild, and many of his targets have been taken down with minimal human causalities. Among these is the Main street incident.
While records are fuzzy as to what exactly happened, apparently there was a breakout of what appeared to be demons, or humanity’s view of demons; flying creatures that are blood red and feast on the flesh of anyone close to them. The creatures exploded through the street during the evening, when everyone was heading back home after a long day’s work. The demons then quickly started attacking everything near them. According to the official report, there were at least ten, and when Sean finished, there were none. Apparently, he had heard about a nest of demons preparing to attack downtown, and had set up in a building a good seven hundred yards away with a good view of the street. As soon as the creatures burst out, it was a shooting range. There were many accounts of a demon flying towards a civilian, and then the demon would drop dead in front of them. A hole the size of their fist would be in the demons head. The demons were killed within fifteen minutes of them surfacing in the street. Cleanup crews were dispatched a few minutes later.
Now, I have no doubt that Sean was indeed capable of such feats of marksmanship, what I am suspicious of however is how he knew they were going to surface, and when they were going to surface. He never fully answered the question, answering that he was going off of his intuition, adrenaline, and a whole night without sleep. I recommend him for continued use in the region, with a definitive note on his lack of magical skills. Anyone willing to partner with him should most definitely know about this. Also, I would put on his permanent record the Main Street incident. This is something that will no doubt come up with other guild members, so it is best that we have a note of it, in case something comes to light.
Jacob Tillir, Administrative Assistant.
Reason for joining: While on the outside he is friendly, there is always that inward feeling of being better than the next guy. He wants to be able to say he is better than someone, something he’s never been able to say in his life. He joined, and continues to stay in the guild because of this simple way of thinking. It is through this he drives himself, and is now one of the most determined Hunters that the guild can ask for, if somewhat inexperienced.
Miscellaneous: When Sean gets nervous, he tends to crack jokes in hopes of lightening the situation. He is also known for never getting angry at another human; however he often uses his hunting as an outlet for any built up anger. Along with this, he is also very talented in playing the drums, and practices on them whenever he feels the need to let loose without shooting something.
quakernuts- Poltergeist
- Join date : 2009-09-19
Posts : 702
Age : 32
Location : Sask. Canada
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FOG: Footsteps of Ghosts :: In Character :: Expert Role-Playing :: Expert Out of Character Discussion :: Archived Expert OoC Topics
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