The Vampires Tavern

[Moridanu]

Through chatting with Leets recently, we were remembering how uber cool it was in the old days when we had the Vampires Tavern up and operating.

Gilligan, I would love to get things happening with Amorshka and Levarin again.. unfortunately I cant find any of our old work. Did you save it by any chance??

Those people involved in Anima that want to carry on with playing vampires and the whole Relic plot, could continue to do so in this new setting, while new players wishing to play vampires could easily enter into this new realm.

Let me know what you all think.

[Moridanu]

Heres some stuff I found from the old Vampires Tavern, when we used to play it:

morthika.proboards34.com/index.cgi?board=oldposts&action=display&thread=1121363297

Also found this Gilligan:

Levarin meets his fate:

((No, not a typo, this is Lev's official intro to Lycosia. Before he was an Attone character, so I decided to do something special to bring him here. Enjoy!))

(Part 1A)

Four months earlier...

The night enveloped everything with viscous darkness and mist. Amidst the dense trees of the forest, a shadow seeped into view. Moisture clung to everything; small drops of water hung from cracking tree bark like rock climbers on the edge of precipice, and even the thick black cloth of the figure sweated in the fog. There was no rain, but drops fell from the broad-brimmed hat anyway. Such humidity spelled trouble for machines and electronics. Trouble enough to cause some to simply break down.

Red lines crisscrossed just a few paces ahead of the lurker, a veritable fence surrounding a series of short buildings further ahead. The red lines blinked once, then twice, and were gone. But, the figure stopped anyway. The hat lifted slightly, a thin red glow slipping from underneath its brim before dying out. The figure stood still, and was a shadow again.

Silence pervaded the five white buildings. The first was mere feet from the figure, and stood straight and tall with its corrugated aluminum siding. There were no markings, no vehicles, and no people to be seen. But the occasional red dot and elongated tube jutted out along the roof, marking the automatic defenses.

A moment later the red lines reappeared, crisscrossing in all directions, mere inches from the figure's back, and yet it stayed still. The figure did not move again until the pin-sized red light at the corner of the first building went out. The fog had reached its slippery tendrils into the cameras now. Large, heavy black boots made contact with the paved compound, but remained as silent as the mist, and the figure glided along the ground, joining a shadow behind the building like a pair of brothers embracing after a long separation.

The hat lifted once more and the red glow from underneath returned. Drops of water began to fall from the base of the long coat and develop a thin circle at the foot of the building. He let out a slow, steady breath, barely disturbing the air around him. The red glow diminished enough for it to separate into two almond-shaped eyes. It was he, the Hunter in Black, doing what he did best. He began to draw in another breath, opening his mouth slightly to taste the damp air, for he knew he would not get the chance again for at least another fifteen minutes.

His dark gray skin was held a close secret by the neck of his coat, which also hid his now matted silver hair. Only the small area of his face that wasn't hidden by the coat showed itself to the night. Already he could feel his own electronics starting to cool off just a bit too much. If he were assaulted by the mist, he would be as useless as the cameras and laser fence. His firearm was the only exception, for guns were only tools in a game played by soldiers. If the tool broke, other tools could be found and used. His dry lips cracked slightly as they formed a slight smile in his cleverness, but were humbled again as he remembered how he was once a tool himself. No, this time was different, this time he was his own device, and even had his own name; Levarin Kindslayer.

He had precisely three point seven minutes left before functionality returned to the cameras. He had dawdled long enough. He walked around the corner of the building and headed for the structure at the other end. The poles that stuck out overhead, stabbing the night on behalf of the buildings, remained dark and motionless. He ducked as effortlessly and silently as he walked, avoiding the dim light of a window that now passed above his head.

Two point three minutes left. He would need to wait until he was fully inside the building before he could draw his weapon from within his coat, or else the mist would jam it before he had a chance to fire. He sidled up against the fourth building and edged closer to the door.

Only one minute and twenty-eight seconds left. If the gun failed anyway, there was a knife up his sleeve. He reached for the doorknob with a gloved hand, aware there was an electric current flowing through it. Should he be successful, he would be gone before anyone could respond to the alarm. He tried mapping the layout of the interior before his hand touched the knob, but the mist had begun to seep into the edges of his coat, and he could feel the tips of his pointed ears getting cold.

Down to forty-one seconds. There was no more time for reconnaissance, he would need to find his target the moment he opened the door, and kill the second moment after he was inside. His hand grasped the doorknob while the other hand held his coat by his stomach. Stealth had served its purpose and was now obsolete.

Two shots rang out. Two distinct, clear shots. Then yelling, followed by a series of thuds. Levarin's eyebrows knitted in confusion. He hadn't even opened the door yet. But, wasting no more time, he did so and made sure to step within the building before drawing his rifle from his coat. The long, thick, silver shaft of the weapon now gleamed in the dim light, held firmly in place at the hip by his strong arms. All in vain. The man he had come to kill was already laying in a pool of blood at the base of a card table, surrounded by unconscious bodyguards. Only one figure stood among them, and she was certainly not associated with those on the floor, making her the only one who could have killed them. As if the clichés needed to have their own list, she even held a smoking nine millimeter by her side.

"Took you long enough, Hunter," smirked the woman.

Her voice was low and soft, almost a purr, designed to make most men melt. She didn't need a large coat to conceal her weapon from the mist, there was a holster strapped to her hip that was a bag with a zipper. Because of this single freedom, she wore a black, form-fitting body suit with a simple chess piece insignia, the Rook, above her left breast. Her body was also covered with pouches and pockets, each one filled with whatever tools she needed.

Levarin narrowed his eyes slightly as he saw the insignia on her chest. He fired his one shot, not wanting to waste time with more of The Tower's subterfuge. Besides, he wasn't good at small talk. Levarin knew even if she wore body armor, the Teflon-coated bullet would slide effortlessly through it. Naturally he saved these bullets for special occasions, and this had been one such occasion, but The Tower had already robbed him of it.

The bullet found its mark quite plainly, causing the woman to double-over as if having been hit in the gut by a strong fist. She stayed in that position for a moment, and then slowly stood up straight again. The crumpled bullet fell to the floor at her feet.

"Oh, baby, you pack quite a punch for an obsolete model!" cooed the woman before she leaped up through the building's open skylight. Apparently it was the way she had come in.
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levarin
Guest
Levarin Meets His Fate -- Part 1B
« Reply #1 on May 13, 2004, 12:28am »


(Part 1B)

The alarms finally went off, forcing Levarin to wince as his sensitive hearing needed to be turned down. Despite the high-pitched whine in his ears, he could feel the pounding of feet on the asphalt outside and discern the rattling of guns. Time had run out, the cameras would be online, and so would the sentry guns. He dropped his rifle by his side again, letting it hang by its strap, and quickly pulled a submachine gun from one of the dead bodies.

The door was kicked open and three guards tried to run inside, but were all gunned down as Levarin whirled around with the weapon in flashes of red and yellow. Two more were positioned outside on either side of the door, and started firing blindly around the corner. He ran through the hail of bullets into the misty night air, much to the surprise of the guards on either side of him now. His gun went to one side while his other fist went to the other, and both guards went down, followed by the spent gun.

His boots carried him through the compound, bullets chasing him from all directions. The automatic defense turrets he had seen earlier hummed to life and started showering him with metal. Yellow flashes erupted across the aluminum siding of the building as he retraced his route to the electronic fence at breakneck speed. Holding his coat closer to his body, he dove through the barrier of red beams. At first he thought he’d made it, that he was free, but there was something still nagging at him.

The fence, to be precise. Rather than set off alarms or cut through steel like most lasers would, it held him firmly in place. His eyes went wide. Why hadn’t he detected the magnetic properties of the fence? He was getting sloppy in his old age. Deciding to take a chance, he slid his arms out of the sleeves of his coat, and smiled as he realized he was right: the fence wasn’t holding him, it was holding the lead lining of his trench coat.

He’d have to act fast to get out of this damned moisture if he was going to survive without the coat. He tore off through the woods after slipping forward out of the coat, leaving it suspended in the electric field of the fence. Underneath he wore loose-fitting black pants, and a dark gray t-shirt tucked into them. One hand slipped to the grip of his rifle, keeping it steady so it didn’t rattle so much as he ran. Realizing he was leaving a trail with his boots in the mud, he leaped up the nearest tree and scaled it as only an elf could; albeit a heavy elf.

Once among the tree branches, he gracefully ran from tree to tree as if on solid ground. His leaps and bounds were silent and fast, but he could feel his internal electronics starting to freeze despite the adrenaline pumping through his blood. Something didn’t seem right. It didn’t add up, why would The Tower kill one of their own just to spite him? Even the logic circuits were having a hard time figuring it out.

Branches and leaves whizzed by as he ran, and the thick moisture that hung in the air was now a light drizzle. Thunder softly rolled across the sky above him, and he had another half an hour before reaching shelter. His coat would need replacing, but he still managed to hang onto his hat. His long silver hair flew out behind him, but never caught on the branches.

As he thought over the current situation, he realized he’d need to go into hiding. If The Tower could predict his moves, then he was in serious danger. Why they continued to let him roam free, unchecked and derelict by their standards, was beyond his comprehension. But, it made him realize that perhaps they knew something he didn’t. Well, they always knew something he didn’t, but that never stopped him before, and it wouldn’t now. With one final push to disengage the thoughts from his mind, he continued on the fast gait he had acquired among the trees, and was soon out of sight and out of mind once more.

levarin
Guest
Levarin Meets His Fate -- Part 2
« Reply #2 on May 13, 2004, 12:33am »


(Part 2)

Present...

Voices cried out. He couldn’t understand how, but he heard them, millions of them. He didn’t understand them at first, but suddenly it became quite clear. The voices cried out in pain, fear, and dread. All of these emotions struck him at once, from so many sources, and he woke up screaming as half a planet was destroyed by a ship falling from orbit.

Darkness again. He switched to infra vision, and his eyes glowed an eerie red, dimly illuminating his immediate surroundings. A shark swam past him, giving him a curious look if a shark could ever give one, and then swam on. His scream had only been a muffled shout in the depths of the ocean, where he had hid himself. Shrimp crowded around his legs, where he was buried up to his ankles in silt from standing in one spot for so long. Billowy blue darkness surrounded him, and the only light was that of incandescent fish that swam by, and the red glow from his eyes. That red glow faded into green as he calmed his emotions. He had no idea of the chaos reigning above the ocean, of the near destruction of Lycosia, but he had felt it, and was summoned.

The naked cyborg elf began his internal checks to prepare for the long journey to land. Everything checked out okay except for the hermit crab that had taken up residence in his ear. Muscles that hadn’t been moved in months twitched for the first time, and he was surprised that he still had enough energy left to even move. That would change, though, if he wasted any movements traveling, so he kept his motions to a bare minimum.

He plucked the tiny hermit crab from his ear canal with one arm, staying completely motionless otherwise, and gently dropped it near an empty shell on the ocean floor, where it slowly drifted down and got acquainted with its new home. He then eased one foot out of the silt, causing a giant cloud to follow and block out his vision once more. He strained for only a moment to pull himself out of the ocean floor, but as soon as he did, he moved in the direction of land as precisely as possible.

The odd feeling came back to him. Something was incredibly wrong. He could feel hundreds of fish swimming past, more than just a few schools. Fish were running into him, slipping past each other, sliding over his body in a mad rush to escape something. Something directly ahead of him. In the darkness, he could see a faint glow approaching. It grew brighter, and electricity made the water hum in his ears. Any fish that had been swimming by were now floating motionless around him. His sensors detected a massive electromagnetic pulse to be the cause of the destruction, the source in the direction of the bright light that was now threatening to consume him in the depths.

He made no motion to turn away. If he was to die here, and now, so be it. He would face his death with his eyes open, head-on. The massive wave of light hit him in a torrent of bubbles and eddies, the sand shifting around his feet swiftly. And then it wasn’t sand at all, but pebbles, and soon rocks. His mind went reeling, sensors going off scales and charts, blinded with whatever powers had erupted around him. And then it was gone. He was starting to get tired of these on and off occurrences.

He looked around himself calmly. Things seemed to be back to normal. No life was in his range of senses, and the sea floor had become rocky and jagged. The water was not as cold as it had been before. The pressure also seemed to have dropped, as if he were closer to the surface. He looked up, and his eyes widened. Above him, clear as day through the water, was the moon.


(To be continued at the Vampire’s Tavern)

[Moridanu]

And here is Amorshka:


Amorshka Delacroix
« Thread Started on Mar 26, 2004, 9:03am »


Amorshka Delacroix was born three times and survived two deaths.

Her first birth was in January 1957, when she was born Amelia Delacroix, to proud parents Isabella and Tristan Delacroix. She inherited her dark hair, and sensuous mouth from her mother, while her fathers deep blue eyes reflected in her own like a tranquil pool of turquoise. Her father was quite a wealthy businessman, and Amelia’s childhood was sheltered as well as privileged. Her mother chose to educate her at the family’s’ lush estate, and Amelia thrived at her studies of the arts. She was well read, and flourished in her use of the English language. At the age of four, her mother began her ballet lessons, but Amelia soon grew bored with the strenuous training and practicing. Her body was lithe, her motions fluid, as she moved with an almost unnatural grace. Her undeniable beauty became evident by the age of ten years, and noone was blind to it, including her father. Her mother, sensing what was developing between father and daughter, began to lose herself in the world of Valium and Vodka, leaving her daughter defenceless, and her husband feeling unloved. Amelia began to see a terrible sadness in her father, and she longed to make him happy. In an unhappy drunken moment, he used that longing to his own sick perverted gain, and Amelias childhood of innocence ended 3 months before her 12th birthday.

For four more years, she endured an almost nightly hell, as her father used her to fulfil the role her mother had left vacant so long ago. It was only after a false pregnancy scare, that he had finally woken up to himself, and had resigned himself to loving her from afar. Unable to bear looking at her, he had sent her to a prestigious girls college, where she had continued her studies. She had hidden her terrible secret down so deeply, that it began to manifest itself in other ways. She began to have extremely dark periods, where she would hook up with one bad boy after the other and disappear for a few days of drunken debauchery. Her conscience never played on her, as she continued to shove all bad things that happened either to her or by her, way down, as deep as it would go. Her hatred for herself and all those that reminded her of her father got her in to a lot of trouble with her teachers, and she spent the last year on a “probational period” to see if she would graduate at all. She buckled down, and although she was popular at the school, as well as the men’s college across town, she felt the continuous need to escape. She buried herself in her studies, and although there was no dance program available, Amelia soon discovered the world of gymnastics. She would wait until the other girls had gone out for the evening, or retired to their dorms, before she would visit the gymnasium with her stereo in hand. Music blazing, Amelia would lose herself in a frenzied activity of vaults, flips and swinging on the rings. She lacked the dedication or enthusiasm to master the art, but her natural ability and fluid motions soon earned her a reputation as the states leading gymnast. Word arrived on the month before her 21st birthday that a scout for the Olympic Gymnast Team was coming to see her in her next competition, and after training more than she ever had, Amelia impressed both the judges and the scout. On the eve of her 21st birthday, Amelia received the word that she had made the team. Her birthday celebration at her favourite Irish Pub became a double celebration as Amelia partied with her family and friends until just before midnight. These events conspired to make this night, the eve of her 21st birthday, as well as the eve of her death. For as Amelia made her way through the dark alley where her bright, red mini was parked, a tall man wearing a long, dark coat approached her. All that she could make out in the darkness, was the mans eyes that seemed to glow a silvery blue. Those iridescent eyes shone at her, as Amelia lost herself in his gaze. She knew nothing but those eyes, as she stood there defenceless while the vampire named Morshk drained her of her blood.

As he drank, he tasted something in her essence that caused him to stop and think. He could taste a deep hatred, a self-loathing that he himself was quite familiar with. After one last, long sweet drink, he tore his mouth away from the deep, red gash on her neck to gaze down at her face. She was indeed quite beautiful; it had been her beauty that had persuaded him to break his usual “no – hunting in town” rule. Maybe it was time he took a lover.. he hadn’t had one since Zara had been burned…His comptemplation was interrupted by a group of revellers approaching the alleyway, so with a quick swish of his long dark coat, he disappeared into the shadows, clutching his new prize tightly to his chest. As he slipped through the dark streets, the towns clock chimed the toll of midnight, delivering Amelia into the dawn of her birth into darkness.

« Last Edit: Mar 26, 2004, 9:04am by Moridanu »
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Re: Amorshka Delacroix
« Reply #1 on Mar 26, 2004, 9:07am »


For the longest time, Amelia knew nothing. Darkness was a comforting blanket of numbness as her pain began to seep out of her, in perfect synchronisation to the blood seeping out of her veins. She was vaguely aware of being carried, and roughly dropped on a pile of what turned out to be fishing nets. The cry of a lone seagull finally lured her out of the darkness, and she opened her eyes, to see a hooded figure standing over her. Morshk threw back his hood to reveal a shock of dark hair that tumbled down his shoulders, and those magnetic silvery blue eyes that seemed to be staring down at her thoughtfully. She recoiled inwardly at the sight of her blood on his mouth, as his silhouette was highlighted by the full moon, which glowed in all of its glory directly behind where he stood. Every fibre of her being told her to scream, but her head was a muddled mess, and she lacked both the strength and the energy to speak, let alone scream. She gazed back at him in fear, as he reached out and stroke her cheek with fingers as cold as ice. When he spoke, his voice rose and fell like the wind that had suddenly picked up around them. The wind brought with it the sound of the ocean, as the waves pounded against the nearby shore. His voice blended with the rising and falling waves as his voice reverberated in her ear.

~ Why, you be most beautiful m’dear.. some say that beauty is overrated, that it is only of any use for a relatively short period of time..~ while he spoke, his fingers trailed over her skin, freezing what little blood still pumped through her veins. His silvery blue eyes bore into hers, and she felt a spark of something, somewhere at the base of her spine, then her stomach, her chest, and finally her head. As he finished speaking, Amelia was totally and utterly mesmerised by him.

~ But what if that “short period of time” could be an eternity? Imagine the fun you could have, the world would be your oyster, and men would fall at your feet as apples fall from the tree, ripe and ready for eating. I believe you should be grateful for your beauty, it has indeed allowed you a few more minutes alive.. for I DO intend to kill you tonight, and save you from this horrid world which has obviously caused you a great deal of pain.~ he smiled at her in concern, as her eyes widened in fright.

~Shh!~ he soothed ~Please, do not fear.. for tonight, I feel in an enchanting mood… I shall give you a choice. The same choice that was given to me many moons ago, which I chose to accept and have celebrated since the first eve of my new life. Your choice is as follows… I can kill you now. Leave your rotting corpse here for the seagulls to feast on, before flies arrive and nest in your carcass. Maggots will crawl through your insides before your skin and organs will deteriorate until you are nothing but a pile of sun bleached bones by a raging sea.


Or… you can have everything your heart desires. Your beauty will survive for eternity, you shall want for nothing, and you shall never be plagued by your conscience again. You can do whatever you want and never fear retribution, judgement or sadness. Trust me, m’dear.. the world shall be ours!~

Grinning he stood back from her and gazed down at her once more as she lay there bleeding and trembling on the fishing nets that stunk heavily of rotting fish.

~ Time’s up m’dear~ he snarled, as his head dipped in closer to her. The moonlight shone off his ivory teeth as he smiled at her. One cold hand reached up to grip her chin and pull her mouth close to his. He kissed her hungrily, almost passionately, and Amelia felt a sensation beginning to stir deep within her. Her eyes stared into his as he tore his lips off hers to whisper into her open mouth ~ Join me. Be with me. ~ before his lips found hers once more and began to kiss her more forcefully. He sucked her bottom lip roughly, and the sensation was so erotic, that she almost didn’t notice as he bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood. Her eyes were wide as they drowned in his silvery gaze while his tongue teased the inside of her mouth, as he continued to drain her of her sweet blood. The more blood he took, the more she fell.. into the comforting darkness that wrapped itself around her once more. She wanted to drown in the darkness, forget everything and everyone she had ever known, but those eyes! And the tongue in her mouth that was awakening sensations she had thought long forgotten. .. Her own tongue began to explore his mouth, and she almost sliced the tender pink flesh open on his sharp fangs, as she responded to his kiss with a passion she had never known. Surprised by her actions, she found herself sucking on his lips, tasting her own blood as her tongue continued to search his mouth. Losing herself completely in the kiss, and realising that she was dieing, Amelia bit down on his bottom lip, as his blood mixed with hers. She sucked hungrily as the dark cold liquid poured into her mouth and burned down her throat. For several moments, the passion between them flowed as freely as the blood that leaked down their chins, before his blood hit the pit of her stomach. She gagged, and screamed as he dropped her back on to the foul smelling fish nets once more. Writhing in agony, Amelia screamed with every last ounce of her breath, before the pain became too great, and the darkness finally consumed her once more.


She had awoken to a new life, one that had been everything he had promised her. Morshk was a patient teacher, who was soon surpassed by his student. She was so quick and lithe on her feet, that she would steal away from him, select a victim and have her fill, then returning to his side before he had even noticed she had slipped away. After they had located her red mini, and altered the glass to be uv resistant, she had been basically unstoppable, dashing all over the country whenever the body count was becoming too noticeable. For the most part though, for those first few years, they had used an abandoned boat shed as their lair, the docking ships in the bay providing more than enough wayward sailors to quench their thirst. Amelia found that Morshk had been right, her beauty WAS her biggest weapon. The men flocked around her, practically begging her to feast on them, and of course she was only too happy to oblige.

Although she had passed on to a life of darkness, there was a still a dark smudge deep inside of her that refused to go away. Her anger and hatred at her father bubbled under her surface and began to play out an angry tune on the veins that pulsed within her temples and pounded in her head like an angry drum. The only thing that caused the pounding to subside was to feed, and feed she did. It took her several months to notice that nearly all of her victims resembled her father.. same age, height, complexion. Realising that she would never be free of him, even in death, Amelia began to focus all of her energy on seeking revenge on her father for his past deeds. Knowing that his wallet was his most vulnerable point, she concentrated her energies on his known business associates. Using the Delacroix name as her signature sprawled across the wall of her latest victim in their own blood, Amelia made sure her father got the message. The Delacroix name, which had once meant wealth and power, now meant death and sadness to anyone he knew, and companies began to turn their backs on him within a few weeks. Delighting in his misery, she had watched him for a few months, as he continued to crumble and say goodbye to everything he had ever known. Finally, the perfect time arrived, and she had ended his life after a five day siege where she had tortured him and done every sick thing to him she could think of. After he was finally dead, Amelia was surprised to see that the hatred had not gone away, it just seemed to … settle. Like a dark cloak of shadows settling around her shoulders that she would forever wear.

Her vendetta over, Amelia settled into becoming a thing of legend and fear. Despising her own name, she had morphed it into Moshk’s to find the name Amorshka, but had decided to keep her fathers name in an eternal insult to the man she hated with an ever growing contempt. As Amorshka Delacroix, she reaked havoc on those unfortunate to cross her path, and made the history books with her unsatiable blood lust.

It was this reputation that undoubtedly led to a stormy eve in the year of 2009 marking the eve of her second and final death, and the rise of the dawn of her third birth…
.
(( To be continued.... ))

[Moridanu]

And here is Nytes entrance if Leets decides to return and pick up this C:

*The outstretched hands of evening flexed in those long moments of silence and color that served as a fading barrier between dying light and rising night. Elongated fingers like black pillars danced forward to encompass a land sunk in the hazy shades of dusk, seizing with a gentle embrace all remnants of clement day and sweeping aside those glittering fragments into the bubbling pool of shadow that hastened at its heels. The quiet cool descended, bringing with it a hushed sense of significance that pervaded the surrounding grounds and draped all those present in an unearthly shawl of natural regality and mystery. The faint stars above swelled in brilliance like painted players upon a stage, and that certain exquisiteness belonging solely to nightfall flooded the earth in waves of dark and inky tints.

Against this silent backdrop of elegance, a pale frame stood shrouded in shadow as it moved in nimble strides across rivers of dead leaves and thorny underbrush. Slender arms pushed in exasperation at those boughs barring her path, and for a time acidic curses rose in pitch and shattered the supreme silence that reigned in the dark depths of forest. Throwing back her hood and wriggling free of the cloak that seemed caught in a thousand places by twigs and barbs, the wiry figure of a woman was thrust unexpectantly forward. Brushing in annoyance at the odd pieces of forest floor that clung stubbornly to her frame, Nyte growled her frustration in a stream of uncouth suggestions and statements as she struggled on through the tangled growth.*

“For the love of God! Why the hell do forests have to be so . . . forest-y? If I had a can of gasoline and a match, these damned growing things wouldn’t be such a freaking problem! Ungh. Great. Another tear. I SWEAR that if one more thorn scratches me, or if one more bush root conspires to trip me, I’ll burn this hellish tract of land to ashes and cinders. Yeah. You hear me, you green leafy bastards? I’ll burn you to the ground if you don’t let up! I’ll roast your berries and bake your stems and – oof!”

*Stumbling gracelessly across the miscellany of a long-dead trunk, she regained her footing with a snort and continued on through the deepening night. Shooting looks of pure poison all about her as if to ward off any more unfortunate tumbles, large and feline eyes the color of flashing cobalt sought in vain for a break in the malicious milieu. Short, razored locks crowned cunning features in the blazing brilliance of electric pink and raven hues, and tender lips glossed like black vinyl contorted in yet another sharp scowl. Small hoops of silver graced the flesh of her septum and both expanses of arched eyebrows, lending a perverse beauty to the barbell that already embellished her tongue and the various steely studs that lined the cartilaginous lengths of small shell ears. She was a modern Helen, resplendent and eye-catching – adorned in the decadent fashions of an age not recognized by the occasional outsider. Moving on with dogged persistance, Nyte perceived with a sarcastic smile small glowing lights upon the horizon. A structure awaited her there, and in time she would reach her maddening, elusive destination . . . finally.*

“This place had BETTER be worth my blood. All I need right now is a drink – the kind with the little umbrella, maybe – and a place to sit. Of course, I need to get to that damned tavern before any of that can happen! Lord, the things I do for entertainment.”

[The Demon Auditor]

Heh, I remember that one. Yeah, I think I have most of it all saved. I wanted to bring back Lev in that one tiny plot that I started up in randomville not too long ago. But, we saw how that went, lol.

[Moridanu]

*bounce, squeal, bounce*

I FOUND IT Gilligan!!

morthika.proboards34.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=generalrp&thread=1121834412&page=1#1137817673

It was hiding in Randomville!!

I would love to pick this up again, anytime you are ready hon.

[The Demon Auditor]

Sure!! I see it was your turn next, heh.

[Moridanu]

Sweetness..

Let me catch up everywhere else, and then Ill just post in Randomville. *bounces*

Anyone else wanna play in the Vampires Tavern??

*pokes*

ANYONE??

[Simon Gideon]

Hmm... What would we need to know to create a character?

[Moridanu]

Wellllllllllllllllllllllllll... *laughs*

You could be a vampire..

Or a vampire hunter...

apart from that... its up to you.

[Simon Gideon]

Shit, I'm in.

[Moridanu]

Shit, I love ya!


And you Poe Poe.. I know youre in!


Right??

[Eevee]

Holy crap...

My account still works.

Hey, y'all. Don't shoot me for the super-extended absence...I'm liek omg gradumatating and shiz in May. Then off I go to graduate school and (hopefully) a graduate assistantship at the Campus Writing Center.

Anyhoo...I loved this place. It felt like my baby. And I'm excited to get it started again...

Come on, guys! Come and play...

(By the way, Mobo, get that damn entrance off this page. I used to be so stupidly verbose...haha.)

[Isabella Rastafari]

Welllllllllll.. we couldnt wait for the actual realm to start up, so we had a little fun tonight with some live RP, just like the old days.

The Vampires Tavern provided the perfect setting, so until we get the realm up and going, I thought I would store the transcripts on here as they will serve as Isabellas, Roses, and Christian Wards entrances.


Anyone else wishing to play in this setting is more than welcome to add their post to our transcripts and we will respond accordingly.

Isabella:

*Isabella stalked down the leaf strewn path to the Vampires Tavern, her amber eyes blazing. Frustration and anger oozed out of every pore as she thought of Benito and the fiasco of trying to retrieve the Relic. Pausing just outside the tavern, she glanced up at the golden full moon that hung in the sky like an over ripe peach. Mentally plucking the peach from the sky and sinking her fangs into it, Isabella offered the moon a slight curtsey before she pulled open the heavy oak door and stepped inside. Peering into the gloomy atmosphere of the Tavern, Isabella looked around for Rose as she tossed her long silky black hair over one shoulder. *

Rose:

-No one could lounge as she could lounge, even in the worst of times. Tonight could be classified among one of the darker times in a considerably long life, but it hadn't damaged Rose's mood or appearance. As a vampire, she thrived in the dark. Though Isabella had taken the situation standing up and bitching back, her beloved sister was half way through a bottle of her favorite wine, wearing silk that made her skin sing and was living very much in this comfortable moment. And then her sister was there and it was all the better.-Christian Ward:

*He stepped in briskly, as though he expected the entire establishment to greet him, silver out and polished. The moonlight shone in from behind his shoulder, giving him a dim outline, the rest seemingly shadowed and more than a bit sinister. But stepping forward and letting the tavern's lights shine on him, each could see the newcomer was hardly some shade or demon stepped in for a fun time. An archaic figure, he was dressed in a long flowing grey coat, finely made. Beneath, his casual suit was far from casual, even to the uneducated eye it was expensive, well-made, and no doubt in style back when most people's grandparents had been alive. Even the red handkerchief in his pocket gave him an old world look. But his face was far from it- pale, and severe, with high cheek bones and dark, narrowed eyes, he viewed the gathering as a king views peasants who have the misfortune of begging for bread before him. His long ash colored hair was tied up in queue, and the exposed teeth could only be a hiss of disgust. To think, he had travelled all this way to spend the night in such a hole.*

Isabella:

*Isabella allowed a cool smile to caress her lips as she saw her beloved sister lounging with a bottle of wine in a booth tucked into the far eastern wall. Dipping her head in greeting, Isabella paused by the bar, offering the barmaid a cool look. After enquiring as to where the usual barkeep was, while offering little attention or care as to the answer, Isabella pointed to a small narrow cupboard towards the end of the long bar.

~Make mine a Bloody Mary. You can find Mary in there..~ The barmaid nodded silently before gliding over to the cupboard and pulling it open. Isabella’s latest "Mary" was barely alive, having been locked in the cupboard close to three months now. With Isabella being away for so long wasting her precious time on that stupid relic, poor Mary had been all but forgotten. Now, she offered a weak protest as the barmaid picked up one limp wrist and slashed it with one long purple nail. Holding a large jewel encrusted goblet under the pouring blood, she waited until it was full before kicking Mary back into her prison and slamming the door shut with a nudge of her hip. Bringing the drink back to Isabella, she asked for four gold pieces only to have Isabella drawl ~put it on my tab. ~ Nodding over to Rose, she added

~Send another bottle over to my sister wont you? And I’ll have another Bloody Mary in a few minutes.. bring them to the table.~ Almost as an afterthought, she turned around with a flick of her long black hair before she murmured

~If Mary expires before my thirst does, there’s a girl by the name of Ciarnait should be here soon... tell her to go and find me a new Mary before she comes in. ~ Dismissing the barmaid with a flick of her wrist, Isabella took a long sip of her drink as she stalked over to Rose, her black stiletto heels clicking against the floor. Despite the warmth her tight red knitted sweater provided, a cool gust of wind found the nape of her neck as the door was opened once more. Casting golden eyes upon the man that had just entered, Isabella gave him a slight nod as she walked over to her sisters table. Sliding onto a chair opposite her sister, she tossed her long black hair over her shoulder as she snarled

~Thank fuck Mary didn’t die on me.. I couldn’t stand to drink that shit you call wine tonight.~*

Rose:

*She sipped the Merlot, which was as close as she could get to perfection in this quaint, little hellhole, and calmly regarded the silently raging Isa. An impeccably dressed man entered on her pencil thin heels and hovered in the doorway as though expecting applause from the other patrons. His vibes were no less abysmal than her dear sisters, but the look of pure disgust on his face suggested he may be taking them elsewhere soon. In fact, their combined negativity may have smothered her had breathing been a necessity. It was just her good fortune that she was currently at peace with the world and her surroundings, however pathetic both may be. Because she truly enjoyed doing so, Rose watched Isa make a very characteristic entrance.
She flooded with affection at the exchange with the staff and then her drink, knowing all too well what ate away at her sister’s peace of mind. The loving smile that curved her unpainted lips faded quickly enough to suggest she wasn’t in such a pleasant mood. To seem too content in the face of one of her sister’s moods could end disastrously.

~ And how is Mary this evening? ~ *

Christian Ward:

*He had to bide his time in this place, and he may as well make the best of it. Two 'ladies' were also present, one getting a living drink at the grace of the barkeeper. His eyes narrowed moreso, if that was even possible, thinking the entire thing silly. To think- feeding on mere peasants kept in a broom closet. Surely this place kept low stock about. His dark eyes lingered a bit on each of them, a cold, almost analytical kind of appraisal that would leave most people unnerved. Confident that they were not overly hostile, he moved forward, taking great care not to brush up against any other patrons as he made his way to the bar.*

What do you have for someone with a refined palate? *He asked, though the politeness that may have been conveyed was lost, replaced by an imperious tone and a sort of self-importance which gave him gravity. Initially, the barkeeper was struggling to keep back a sharp retort, but the man sneered and applied a little... force to his next words*

I suggest that you find me something fit for a king, and be quick about it. *The barkeep, hit hard with the suggestion, stumbled off to find the best drink in the house. While waiting, he looked to his silver watch impatiently, as though a flight were due to arrive right in the tavern at any minute, and stole a few glances at the two ladies. Deadly, both of them, if he was any judge of character. Old, too, though he doubted they were his age or near it. When the barkeep came back and solemnly offered up a bottle of some very fine vitae, he took it without a word. . "Finest in the house, sir" came the hint for money, but he looked back with a face that could kill an angel.*

Your happiness in doing your duty as a host is sufficient enough. *Again, the weight of the suggestion nearly buckled the barkeep, and he walked off for a nearby table, taking his seat and searching the bottle for defects...*

Isabella:

*Isabella offered Rose a cool smile in answer to her question as she nudged her goblet in her direction.

~Taste for yourself how she is... near death if that lovely acrid overtone is anything to go by.~ letting out a long deep breath despite her lack of need for air, Isabella felt eyes upon her and turned around to meet the gaze of the pompous ass that was standing at the bar, ordering a drink fit for a king.

~My, my..~ she murmured to Rose, ~Don't we think we're king shit, eh?~ Taking her drink back from her sister, she sipped it quietly for a few moments as she urged her inner rage to quell. Subconsciously she fingered the scar that she had acquired curtesy of her hunt for the Relic. Running one long red talon down the jagged burn that slithered around her wrist, Isabella grew thoughtful for a few moments. Remembering the hunt, the Relic, that prat Perry, The Enemy.. and finally Benito, caused a rare moment of melancholy to wash over her. Finally her attention was brought back to the present by the sound of the barmaid delivering her sisters wine. Shaking her head in answer to the barkeeps request as to whether she was ready for her second drink, Isabella looked up to see King Shit sitting at a table nearby. Narrowing her eyes at him, she hissed
to Rose

~He look familiar to you?~*

[Rose]

-Though she took the offered lifeblood of Mary, her own wine had made her just queasy enough that its stale taste heightened the unpleasant sensation. Lips pursed and nose wrinkled, she pushed the glass back into Isa’s waiting hand none too soon.

-Not one of her better nights to be sure. –Her gaze followed Isa’s to the arrogant stranger without enough sense to keep his eyes off them, but her interest remained more on her sister’s well being. In the face of Isa’s pain, her inner peace wavered and something disturbingly close to empathy flooded in. If it did, it was for one person and one alone.

- A man, Isa, is always convinced of his status as king of the shit. If it pleases him to stroll among us heathens with a bottle he isn’t fit to drink from, let us let him have his fun, hmm? -Her hand now rid of the unsatisfying glass of Mary, it was free to touch Isa’s as it returned from tracing her scar. That horrid pang of unrest hit her as Isa’s sadness washed over features not known for it. Love was a horrible thing. For some reason Isa had taken an interest in the tavern’s Royal Highness, a title to be cherished above all, and Rose let her gaze find him one last time and two times too many.

- I’m relieved to admit he doesn’t. His kind always look alike, how could we ever tell them apart?

Christian:

*He was aware of being watched. He usually had to deal with that situation. But the insults he could not abide. Low as they were murmured, and even over the roar of the fire and din of the tavern folk, he picked them up. Going almost rigid with disapproval, he set the bottle back down and folded his hands in front of him, listening, keeping them in his peripheral vision. He repressed a snarl, and thought briefly of his tendency to lose it with immortals and beings much more hostile than they for lesser words. Still, the night was young and there was no sense wasting time addressing them hastily. He calmed instantly, the coolness of his blood coming back, and a half-smirk appeared on his face.
The entire transition couldn't have taken more than about ten seconds. To anyone watching, he might seem a bit... spontaneous.
And for truth, he was. Cunning, old, and powerful, but his short temper and tendency for violence was notorious in certain circles. Obviously, not in this squalid place. He turned, looking to them, his slight, almost devious smile still on his pale lips.*

My, my, where are my manners? I had entirely forgotten to introduce myself to the tavern's ladies. *The latter phrase drawn out, as though it were a title rather than a mere figure of speech.* Surprised to see anyone with any taste in this place, excepting myself of course. What times we live in. I am Christian. *He announced, amused at the name and all its possible meanings.*

[Isabella Rastafari]

Isabella:

*Isabella took another long sip as King Shit offered a simpering introduction before she looked behind and around her. After an exagerated search around the room, she looked to Rose.

~It appears we are these "ladies" of which he speaks... clearly he is a
stranger to these parts, eh?~

Taking another sip, she wrinkled her nose as the foulness of Mary's dying blood could not not be ignored any longer and spat out her last mouthful onto the floor beside her. Reaching over for her sisters second bottle of wine Isabella murmured

~If ya dont mind.. it appears I need to slum it this evening.. ~ Closing her dark red lips around the neck of the bottle. After several long swallows, she lowered the bottle from her lips and locked eyes with King Shit, otherwise known as Christian.

~Speaking of slumming it..~ she muttered, before raising her voice slightly. ~ If youre looking for Ladies, I doubt you will find any here, sir. Especially not at this table..~. Distracted by the opening of the door, Isabella glanced up to see Ciarnait arrive.

~About time!~ She called out. ~ Over here.. NOW!~ Ciarnait scampered over to the table, well aware of the many pairs of male eyes that followed her every move. The werewolf was a virtual sex goddess in her human form, and she relished the sensation of lust she caused to any male that glanced upon her.

Snarling at her, Isabella growled ~I'm thirsty.. Mary is dead.. pretty much. Go get me a new one.. something young.. virginal preferably. ~ Ciarnait began to grumble as she reached up to smooth over her long dark brown hair. ~But Mistress.. I only just arrived...~ She was stopped midspeech by the look in Isabellas eyes. ~Yes Mistress.. ~ she mumbled, eyes downcast. ~Does Mistress Rose require anything this eve?~ Isabella fell silent, and waited for Rose to answer the question.*

Rose:

-She’d have had to have been paying him attention to notice the change in hid moods, but wasn’t. That he was there at all was only highlighted by Isa’s interest. Now that interest had him speaking to them. Peachy. They’d brought this on themselves, of course. Had they just gone about their wine, there would be no need for awkward introductions with handsome, if not arrogant, men. Even the wine could not take the sour taste off her tongue, denting the shield of tranquillity she’d surrounded herself in. With a resigned sigh, she gazed past Christian as if something of great importance lingered just over his right shoulder.

- It would seem he means us. People of taste don’t frequent this tavern, I’m afraid. They end up here when they’ve run out of it. I’m Rose, one of the current “ladies” of the tavern it seems. –She smiled as Isa emphasized the point so well by spitting Mary’s last contribution to the world onto the floor at their feet. A classy establishment to go with the fine company that was King Shit Christian. Because manners could only take you so far and Isa, drinking straight from the wine bottle now, had abandoned them entirely, Rose felt an intense need to flee the room for her own quarters where there was nothing but quiet comfort. She didn’t flee but turned to face Ciarnait with as friendly a smile as she could muster under these bizarre circumstances.

- I require nothing but that you make whatever you bring Isa precisely what she’s craving. A long night we’re having, it seems. It’ll be longer yet…So, I couldn’t help but overhearing and I won’t help asking, is your drink fit for that king?

Christian:

*He blinked, cold and reptilian, his smug grin fading as quickly as one can hide a candle behind a curtain. Not very pleased with the one lady's etiquette and disrespectful attitude, he snarled visibly, but inaudiably. Indeed, he thought darkly, no real ladies would behave as such. As she purged the wasted blood on to the wooden floorboards, his right eyelid twitched and fluttered.* Well, apparently the fare here is far from pallatable. *He remarked dryly, though the very act was appalling. He ignored the initial biting comments of the one called Rose, and looked to her instead. Decidedly more quiet, though no less of a harpy, that one. That she had replied to him, however, touched a dignified and somewhat twisted part of his soul, and he inclined his head, commenting it was his pleasure, though the gesture was nearly automatic. Then came bounding in a girl of sorts, this one having the telltale scent of a werewolf and a thrall. He scowled at the girl, never friendly to her kind, though she seemed to be subservient to the purging one, and he admired that much. At least she knew how to keep lowlifes on the bottom. A pity she couldn't have more class. Distracted by his own observations, he only caught the tail end of Rose's comments* Fit for a king? I hadn't even tried it. *He peered at the label one last time and opened it quickly. His nose lingered near the top, registered that the vitae within was indeed not so bad (Though not like he would have in his court), and took a sip.* It's passable.

Isabella:

*Ciarnait nodded at Rose and bowed to Isabella before she disappeared out the backdoor and transformed quickly to her canine form, helped in part by the full moon that was now barely hidden behind some thick grey clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the sound causing the floorboards to tremble beneath Isabella’s feet as she smiled at the exchange between Rose and King Shit. Surprised that her sister had bothered to offer her name, and not one to be outdone, Isabella lowered her lashes briefly and dipped her head slightly in a mock show of polite respect. ~Forgive my manners sir, you find me in the worst of moods this eve. My name is Isabella though I can not make a claim as similar to my sisters, by calling myself a "lady", something I am sure you will have noticed already.~ As if to prove her point, she belched behind one hand before she leant back in her seat and folded her long legs upon the chair in front of her. Closing her eyes briefly, Isabella listened intently for the familiar sound of rain. Soon, despite the roar of the tavern fire, and the din of its patrons, she was rewarded with the soothing sound of the falling rain. Pleased that Ciarnait would be wet soon enough, Isabella opened her eyes and stared openly at King Shit..er.. Christian. ~Pray tell, sir.. what brings one..such as yourself.. to this fine establishment this eve? Are you lost by chance? Rose here has an excellent sense of direction and I’m sure she could point you in the right direction if you only ask nicely..~*

Rose:

-This time Rose was able to pick up on the frantically changing moods of Christian and wondered just how many people lingered in his head. She’d have stared, however rudely, even longer perhaps had her sister not taken up the Torch of Politeness and run head long with it. Mid-sip, it was with effort that she did not choke on it as the insane urge to laugh hysterically hit her. With skill she got the liquid past her closing throat and managed not to drown publicly in the presence of this Christian. This had to be the weirdest conversation she’d ever taken part in and she was sure she hadn’t had enough wine for the occasion. Topping off an already full glass, she waited until Isa had sealed the whole deal with that ridiculous, over-the-top belch before attempting another sip. In their hundred plus years together, she was sure she’d never heard another pass those lips. It was enough to sit back and watch Christian and Isa go back and forth now, as Isa clearly was enjoying herself enough for both of them and didn’t mind the oddity of this meeting. She pondered briefly where she would direct this man to go if he did ask her help and then decided if that time came, she could send him there from here with her bare hands. Running her tongue over the tip of her left fang, she gazed thoughtfully into her wine.-

Christian:

*Isabella. So she had a name. Her feigned civility and uncouth belch only served to make him want very much to skin her alive and hang her outside of the tavern as a warning for all comers, but he stifled the inner hostility and inclined his head. Much obliged, ma'am, and all that. A disapproving scowl let her know very well where she stood with him.*

I'm travelling on business, Isabella. *He put added emphasis on her name, as he tended to do with all of his sentences. His was a curious accent.*

Not exactly lost, but I do have the... misfortune to have to travel by foot at night. Normally, I would not be staying overnight at a place that can barely keep decent blood stocked. *He looked around, as though the entire place was a mire of filth.*

I would rather be in a nice clean berth. But this is temporary, and I can suffer it at least once. *He eyed them both, suspecting them of making a game of him. A certain side of him simmered, as though his blood was under pressure, but another part of his mind dismissed it, and he cooled a bit.*

Isabella:

* She laughed inwardly while feigning empathy for his situation. ~My, my.. you poor thing. How you must suffer by having to lower your obviously high standards to such a depth. Why, you choose to bless my dear sister and myself with your royal company is
both a puzzle and a blessing to two such lowly creatures as we.~

She looked over to Rose, her eyes, formerly amber in their fury but now returned to their usual violet, were laughing as a faint smirk lingered on the corners of her dark lips.

~Rose, we are truly blessed, are we not? Remind me to enter tonights events in my journal when we return home so that I shall not forget such an event as this..~ She rolled her eyes and dismissed the pompous prat by turning her back on him as she sensed Ciarnait close by. Sure enough the back door was pushed open and a very wet and bedraggled Ciarnait appeared in her human form, long dark hair plastered to her scalp as she dragged a kicking and screaming girl behind her. The girl appeared to be no more than twelve or thirteen and Isabella smiled her approval as Ciarnait dragged her over to the table.

~Your "Mary" Mistress, as requested.~ Isabella took over Ciarnaits grasp of the young girls hair, who quivered in fright and cold as she stared up into Isabellas' eyes. ~Relax little one... sleep...~ she purred as her eyes began to glow a deep, dazzling purple. The girl immediately began to calm down, and fell into a deep sleep. Grinning broadly, unable to hide her delight, Isabella picked the girl up as though she were weightless and sunk her fangs into the soft flesh on the girls neck. Drinking deeply until her thirst was satisfied, she finally let go of the girl, rolling her over so that her now emptied goblet could catch the remaining drops of the young girls blood.

~Thats more like it...~ she grinned at Rose before shooing the barmaid away. ~No, leave her here. I'll put her away when I'm done..~ Ciarnait watched her Mistress drink before she bowed and asked if she may sit. Nodding anabsently, Isabella kicked out the chair she had been resting her feet upon. Gratefully, Ciarnait sat before calling over the barmaid and ordering a large whiskey.*