The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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[[Playing as Mark now]]
Entering through the window in his home, Mark got a quick change of clothes, leaving his bloody, torn clothes from his earlier encounter on the floor. Thinking for a moment, Mark took a piece of paper and made a note. On the note it said:
"Dear Mr and Mrs Ammon,
The boy you knew as Mark Ammon is dead. He is no longer who he used to be. He is now an emotionless monster, out to take hearts of people to feed his hunger. The two of you were once an object of affection in his past life, and so, are spared this time. I wish you safety on your dead son's behalf.
A Shade who was once your son."
"That's enough, I guess," Mark thought to himself. Stepping out of the window he entered, Mark made his way up to the rooftop using the emergency fire exit. When he reached the top, he began to run.
[This happened 3 days prior to Kyle's second death]
The hunt was on. Panicked people rushed the streets, their blood was up, the scent clouded the air, fogging Xuan's enhanced smell. Hunger rose like a viper within her immaterial gut, but she forced it back. Now was not the time to indulge.
Her classic humanoid figure had twisted and changed in the dying light of the sun. Her legs had shortened and her arms lengthened. Her back hard stretched and broken, spine snapping with a crack that rent the air as she ran. Now her hands passed the ground like the paws of a wolf, soft, elegant, and deadly. Her opaque eyes narrowed to hunter's slits, her maw salivating shadow.
Xuan alighted where her shadow-prey had been. She hadn't seen it arrive on the corner of the building, nor had she seen it leave, but it had been there, and it had gone, in all but the blink of an eye. She lowered her canine snout to the concrete, checking scents, checking for traces.
The trail wasn't cold. Her prey stood far, yet near. Xuan raised her head to stare out at the encroaching shadows. They climbed the buildings, clinging to the brick and plaster like ivy. Window-eyes blared through the solid dark, cutting swathes of cruel luminescence into the approaching night.
Xuan examined the shadows far opposite her, searching for what she knew she would find, but ignorant of where her knowledge came from. There. In the deep recesses of some dank alleyway shone two small pale lights, glinting softly in the dead orange light. They were no ordinary lights. There was an intelligence about them, cold, calculating. Their eyes locked, a pseudo-canine made form shadow and the blood of fallen prey, and the glinting intelligence hidden in the brick-lined sanctuary.
Xuan's vocal chords hissed, wrapped themselves in knots, and she howled.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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[3 days later, present time, about a few hours after ]
Several tireless hours of practice, he finally got it. On the first days of the hunt, he learned how to pull people to him using his strings. Hours later he knew how to use them as cutting weapons. Now, he had almost perfected the use of his power. He was flipping Spiderman, except for the fact that his 'web' can cut people up, given enough speed is put into them. Hunting among the streets, he has torn up several of the police already. A cut up body here, a shredded one there, all their hearts pulled into Mark's maw in an instant after their death. It was...fun, he thought. Or what he thought was fun. A feeling of exhilaration ran through him for every kill he made, every bullet he dodged, and every police car that foolishly chased him. Minutes after the carnage, he went back into hiding, into a little hovel in one of the smallest alleys. They were cut up in a manner only his strings can remove and replace, unless someone strikes it with enough force, and strikes at the right place. He didn't really need to rest, but taking a break would be fine. He'll hunt again by dusk tomorrow.
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Sometimes I wonder if it's all too easy.
Lying, cheating, stealing your way to victory.
Though just how far would you fall for a dream?
The howl ripped through the newborn evening, filling the concrete valley that was this borough of NYC. It was a soul searing sound, promising death in all its inevitableness. And to the remaining people in the street, already in a panic and fleeing for their lives, it caused a paradoxical reaction.
Instead of running away even faster, the scream of the hunter caused a million year old survival instinct to awaken and warn each person. It said, ”There is a predator in the night. Stop, don’t move. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Hide, and hope it eats someone else.”
And so the whole block froze where they were, crouched and shivering, rabbits ready to bolt, but fearing that the movement would single them out.
Archard watched from the alley, as his stampede of meat suddenly stopped and hid where they could. He was more impressed than he cared to admit. To be able to generate that much fear, with a single howl. But he also knew that the hunt wasn’t for the meat. It was for him.
Focusing on the source of the sound, the slim shade could see the form of a misshaped hound. Except it wasn’t any type of hound that had ever lived on this plane of existance. Almost a hyena in shape, with longer front legs than rear, a hunched twisted back, and a short, blunted snout protruding from under milky white eyes. The eyes of the ultimate huntress.
Archard felt the thrill of the hunt, even if he was to be the prey. For when two hunters face off, each had to play the dual roles. And it meant that in the end, it was the most intelligent one who won.
And he was very, very intelligent.
The lithe shade climbed the wall of the building next to him. On reaching the roof, he headed back up the street he had just come down, returning to the parking garage he had passed earlier. He made sure that he was not visible from the street below, as he doubled back.
Once he reached the garage, he rapidly lost himself in the multiple levels and ramps, until at last he found a shadow darken corner. There, he clung to the ceiling, next to a large beam of concrete. Drawing his sword, but not activating the power, Archard settled in for the wait.
Slipping invisibly into the street past the unconscious policeman and into the crowd, the roar of something....else echoed across town. "A fool, with publicity like that the humans will start a war and we all suffer"Kurt thought. Now to see what is going on, even if I have to stop it. So he climbed back up to the rooftops and started running to the other side of the town. Even without an arm for until who knows how long his new body would take to heal, there was still a gun that made up for it.
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Time to update the ol' rpg test.The ones I get the most are Tactician, Cleric, and Paladin
The challenge echoed far through the city, reverberating through the monolithic structures of human engineering, ululating across the sky, shaking the very air with it's hidden message. Hundreds stopped in their tracks, thousands felt a shiver of apprehension mingled with fear crawl up their spine, and ever more crossed themselves and muttered prayers of safety in the dark. The dark which now pounced upon the city, coming ever more pronounced in it's inky blackness.
Xuan lost her prey in the silence. For the aftermath was only silent. Forced quietude reigned across the streets, instinctual in it's reaction and forever sudden in the time in which it activates. Fight, or flight?
There was no choice for Xuan. Her prey was somewhere near, the scent was intoxicating, acidic and putrefying all at once. She longed to taste it. Her sharp eyes had lost the glint of intelligent milky-whites in the immediate stillness of the street below her, the abrupt change causing her to lose focus. (For no matter how much she looked like the stalking wolf, the lioness, she was still human, still shadow-human).
She tried to trace the movements of the shadow, but it was like tracking one petal among thousands falling from the sakura tree, nigh impossible in the travelling dark. So she arched her back, snapping it back until she stood on crouched hind legs, bunched on powerful muscles, and leaned forward on thin arms, long and whip-like.
The scent was old here, but the wind had picked up new traces, coming form behind and to the side, it was light, and dying slowly, but it was enough for a hunter. Xuan dropped from the building, crushing a hapless human who had tried to hide beneath the crouching-gargoyle beast, away from it's moon-eye stare, and died all the same, it's lung and heart pierced by shards of broken bone
Then the screaming began again. A torrent of flesh radiated away from where Xuan landed, like the ripples in a still pond. The sound raised higher and higher, piercing the air with more clarity than Xuan could ever hope to achieve with her half-beast, half-human cried of the hunt. Pure human terror.
Xuan licked her mongrel lips. It was so sweet. She almost anticipated the killing, but as her arms reached for the closest morsel, the scent of living shadow closed in on her, and she knew again what she was truly hunting for.
Doing her best to ignore the tantalising screams Xuan followed the scent as best she could. It was obvious that her prey had leaped through the shadows just as she did, and, upon closer inspection, that she hunted a male. (She didn't know how this knowledge came to her, how she was capable of divining specifics from the barest trace of scent).
She doubled round, back and followed once more, people still fleeing before her shadow-form. The scent was stronger now, almost direct. Xuan could taste the difference in the shadow texture, it clung to her throat like ash, sticky and flavourless, chocking.
Into the tall building, the one filled with cars. (From far away Xuan knew she held the name of the building, she knew she could describe its function and the reason for its presence, and the part of her that still denied any of this was happening began to think on the matters of the hunt, and the differing mindsets she had already shown). First floor, clear, second, clear. The scent was strong, so strong. It filled her nostrils like smoke, thick and heavy, chocking her and filling her with ever more eagerness to reach into the propagator of the smell and tear and rend him limb from limb, to feast upon the putrid heart and gorge on its flesh.
Third floor now. The smell overran her senses. Her eyes cast edgily around, searching for those milky-whites and the intelligence behind them.
There. Xuan's maw snapped open, spilling shadow and saliva, a guttural noise escaped the depths of her throat, half-growl, half-exclamation of (false) joy. She charged, hind legs catapulting her forward, forearms whipping around to slice like knives at the shadow on the wall.
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Eastern Equestria, born and raised... etc
Gaulish Viking metal is actually, an aphrodisiac
The.. thing, a shade of some form showed little interest in the humans, a surprising gesture indeed. The thing was hunting that was for sure, all shades had a link with their feral side and Kurt recognized the mind set instantly. Whatever it was hunting couldn't be good business, so it was time to follow the beast and find out what was going on. cocking his gun Kurt follows the monster into the parking garage.
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Time to update the ol' rpg test.The ones I get the most are Tactician, Cleric, and Paladin
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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Infinite Archipelago
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"What a howl. It sure gave even me the chills," Mark said to no one in particular. Looking around the area, seeing many people, frozen, hunched down, trying to be small as possible. They surely didn't want to be somethings dinner tonight.
"So much food," Mark thought, "Why let it go to waste?" About to let his strings flow once more, Mark stopped mid-process.
"No, I shouldn't. Something is hunting something, and if it's hunting something while leaving all these food behind, it must be special. It would be quite rude to just break the silence of the hunt. Maybe I should see what's hunting what?"
With that, Mark set off, leaping a great distance to the next building, the sound of the howl still echoing in his ears, almost guiding him.
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Sometimes I wonder if it's all too easy.
Lying, cheating, stealing your way to victory.
Though just how far would you fall for a dream?
{Parking Garage with Xuan. Mark and Kurt are closing in on the location}
The suddenness of the attack surprised Archard badly. The malformed, beastly humanoid, with its whip-like arms had barely appeared on the floor when it had launched itself at his hiding spot with misshapen legs like steel springs. The slim shade shadow jumped to a far corner of the 3rd floor, but not quickly enough.
Even as he faded into the shadow tunnel for his escape, the twin armed attack struck him in chest and shoulder. The high impact knocked his sword from his hand, and if it were not for his armored vest, the chest blow would have speared him through and through. As it were, he was thrown through his escape tunnel and into the distant wall with enough force to crack the cinderblock and raise a small cloud of dust.
Bouncing back from the impact, Archard fell to one knee. His right shoulder burned cold and his inspection showed a jagged laceration deep into the joint where the arm met the shoulder. Black, inky wisps of smoky shadow boiled out of the wound, dripping toward the floor, evaporating before it hit.
Hissing at the pain, Archard tried the trick he had used when he first awoke on the coroner’s table. He drew a finger from his left hand down the edges of the wound. A black glow followed the trail his finger made, and the wound closed. There was still a painful cold ache deep inside, but his ‘blood’ had ceased to flow.
Turning terrible, cold, angry eyes toward his distant hunter, Archard curled his fingers into claws and growled a deep, throated, “Bring it!”
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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Getting closer to the parking garage, Mark could make out the sounds of a fight on going. About to put on a burst of speed, Mark, sensing movement somewhere behind him, abruptly stopped to ask, "Who's there?" Letting out three strings and wrapping them around himself, he said, "And whatever you do, don't come near me."
Halt was sitting down, letting his mind wander. His hands caught aflame. Till now the only times his hands caught aflame were when he was in danger. He stared at them, a shout from Zeke jarred him out of his thinking. "Halt" he had yelled, "Theres a shade watching us!" Halt jerked up, grabbing his magnum and it's clips he loaded a fresh magazine into it, hands still aflame he stuffed the massive pistol into it's holster, Halt was in good physical condition and got there in a matter of seconds, Zeke said, “It’s across the parking lot from our front door, on the roof I think. I’m going to our roof to provide cover fire. You head out the front and distract it. See if you can get it into the open parking lot. That way we can get it in a three way. Otherwise, we will have to hunt it on the roof tops, and that will be hell!”. Halt nodded, "Alright, simple 'nuff" he ran outside. From his experience he knew he had to distract it, if it were up to him he would have gone up the roof quietly and sliced opened it's throat before it knew what was going on. The distraction meant he would have go draw all the attention to himself.
He ran out, hollering "Come get me you shade scum!" He began firing shots into the parapet of the roof opposite, and his gun made a lot of noise. That as well as shooting flames. He continued to fire, he knew the police wouldn't come. People would assume that the Bullet Eaters and Rolling Hearts were having a Turf war of sorts, and would be too afraid to call the cops. That and, when he had left they had started becoming corrupt. He even reached down and began throwing stones. He just hopes Zeke would be able to save him in time.
{Dockside warehouse roof. Halt is in front of warehouse, Cale is circling around the block.}
The sharp, heavy thunder of the hand cannon that Halt fired echoed mightily throughout the warehouse district. The three foot long tongues of flame leaped from the barrel of the magnum handgun, causing a strob like effect of light and shadows across the parking lot. Zeke could even see an occasional spark from the building across the way, as Halt's bullets nicked the corrogated steel siding.
"When that man makes a distraction, he does not do it by half," thought the young Harbringer, as he belly crawled across the rooftop of his warehouse. The assault rifle was held causiously until he reached a vent stack that offered some concealment, but gave his almost a full view of the parking lot and neighboring buildings. There he took up a prone firing stance and clicked the safety switch to semi-automatic. Keeping his finger off the trigger, Zeke began searching the surrounding rooftops for a target.
"Only twenty rounds, remember. That's all you've got. It only takes one, but twenty is the absolute max," ran like a mantra through his head.
Below, Halt was throwing rocks of all things, the stones causing a dull drum beat as they hit the side of the buildings. And he was still shouting like a madman.
Malikai almost took the bait. Almost. He found it suspicious that the older man was just shooting, shouting and throwing rocks randomly. Malikai crept around in the shadows to the backside of the man, then stopped. He couldn't go any further without leaving the shadows, and it was quite the distance from the shadows to the man. Malikai thoroughly wished he was behind the older man, and no sooner did he blink, he somehow was directly behind the man. Not giving even a second of consideration, Malikai, always one for the dramatic, tapped the man on the shoulder, then launched an uppercut straight for the man's chin as he turned around.
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//VIRAL BEASTS\\ Go check it out. Or I'll get Absolete on your ass.
{Dockside Warehouse. Zeke on roof, Cale circling. Halt and Malikai in combat in parking lot}
Zeke was watching over Halt, scanning the building across the parking lot, looking for any signs of the enemy. Halt had been standing in the open, shouting and randomly fireing his gun. One second he was alone. The next a leather jacket wearing man with pitch black hair stood behind the older Harbringer.
Zeke was so shocked at the sudden appearance, that he couldn't even shout a warning before the figure raised a black hand, tapped Halt on the shoulder, then uppercut the retired cop.
Zeke scrambled to his knees, aiming the rifle as he shouted, "HALT!"
((Ok. Everyone seems to be headed for, or already in, combat. Remember, to make an interesting read, the action cannot be one sided. Everyone should give and take. When you attack, do not write that your attack hits and causes such and such damage. Write that you try to do this and that, and let your target respond with how the attack worked out. Some will miss, some will do glancing blows and some will hit. Everyone, please be fair. No one is superman and invulnerable. Battle scars will occur. Everyone will take damage occassionaly, and everyone will win some and lose some. Keep that in mind.
I will be working for the next two nights, so there will be limited posting on my part. Sting and Tambar, have a fun dance. In the end, Malikai will lose this one. Cloud and clant: start something between the two of you. Queen, I will try to keep responding over the next two days, but cant guarentee anything. cptporkins, you can meet up with the npc Yetto after your fight with the fake mugging. He will tell you about Zeke and the warehouse. do with it what you will.
For those on the roster, but havent posted in the last week, you have until sunday to join in, or you will be put on probation. Harbringer roster will open up sunday as well.
Ins coughed slightly, before walking over to the nearby ally wall and sitting down. Using...whatever it was had left him tired as hell, and he seriously needed to sit down for awhile. The various background noises of New York, the cars, the people, the construction work, all faded to be replaced with the only sound that really mattered.
Music.
He allowed the crooning voice, soft guitars and heavy base to wash over him, purging all of his worries. It wasn't until his 'audience' had finished up, and the victor had begun to climb down did he hear him. And by that time, it was no use running. So, instead, he opened one eye, raised a hand, and let off a blast wave of energy, watching as it dissapated just in front of the man. It was supposed to be a warning that 'This guy can mess you up, don't screw with him.', and hopefully it was interpreted that way.
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Skype|cptporkinson Steam| ~|CptPorkins|~
Don't message me on either of these, unless you have a really good reason.
Halt had three bullets left and was throwing rocks when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He stopped and turned around, "Really Zeke? I thought we were-" he was cut off when a man no, a shade punched him. He saw a flash of light and his head snapped back as he fell. His mouth was bleeding as he looked up and saw a man in a leather jacket and dirty, long black hair. He was grinning and the bullet bill tatto on his wrist indicated he was a member of the Bullet Eaters. Pain still fresh in his mouth but without hesitation he aimed his magnum at [Malikai]s chest and fired all three shots.
His hands aflame, if this failed he would just have to fling them at him and hope Zeke would save his ass..
[[No Camo, you continue from where you left off in the previous thread. Nothing else as changed except a bit of the roster.]]
YETTO
{Alley: Ins sits among multiple bodies of would-be muggers, who lie crumpled on the ground.}
The extremely tall Harbringer stopped as a colored distortion filled the air in front of him. He could feel a vibration tickle in his chest, and a buzzing noise barely registered in his ears. Yetto knew that if he were to proceed into the strange field, the sound and vibrations would intensify. And, as evidenced by the multiple crumpled figures filling the alley, eventually it would do more than tickle.
Almost hypnotized by the pulsing, vibrant colors that made the sound waves visible, Yetto cautiously extended a hand into the field. He could feel the vibrations increase, the deeper he reached, and amazingly, he began to hear a song. Not so much through his ears, as through the bones of his arm making an almost subliminal orchestra inside his head. It was quite… disturbing, actually.
Pulling his hand back, and rubbing it to get the tingle out of it, the raven haired young man nodded to the tattooed and scarred man seated against the alley wall. Yetto would guess that the two of them were of a like age, though the stranger seemed to have had a rougher life. Still, his display said that perhaps, here was another person for Zeke’s crusade.
“I am Yetto,” he began without preamble. “I too, am a Harbringer. I have an associate who may be able to help you learn about and develop your abilities. Would that be something that may interest you?”
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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Still keeping his guard up, Mark responded, "Well then, let's see what the noise is all about." Jumping towards the next building, he warned, "Don't try anything funny behind my back. I have no idea if I can chop you up to pieces but I sure as hell can throw you around."
Entering through the window in his home, Mark got a quick change of clothes, leaving his bloody, torn clothes from his earlier encounter on the floor. Thinking for a moment, Mark took a piece of paper and made a note. On the note it said:
"Dear Mr and Mrs Ammon,
The boy you knew as Mark Ammon is dead. He is no longer who he used to be. He is now an emotionless monster, out to take hearts of people to feed his hunger. The two of you were once an object of affection in his past life, and so, are spared this time. I wish you safety on your dead son's behalf.
A Shade who was once your son."
"That's enough, I guess," Mark thought to himself. Stepping out of the window he entered, Mark made his way up to the rooftop using the emergency fire exit. When he reached the top, he began to run.
[This happened 3 days prior to Kyle's second death]
Sometimes I wonder if it's all too easy.
Lying, cheating, stealing your way to victory.
Though just how far would you fall for a dream?
Her classic humanoid figure had twisted and changed in the dying light of the sun. Her legs had shortened and her arms lengthened. Her back hard stretched and broken, spine snapping with a crack that rent the air as she ran. Now her hands passed the ground like the paws of a wolf, soft, elegant, and deadly. Her opaque eyes narrowed to hunter's slits, her maw salivating shadow.
Xuan alighted where her shadow-prey had been. She hadn't seen it arrive on the corner of the building, nor had she seen it leave, but it had been there, and it had gone, in all but the blink of an eye. She lowered her canine snout to the concrete, checking scents, checking for traces.
The trail wasn't cold. Her prey stood far, yet near. Xuan raised her head to stare out at the encroaching shadows. They climbed the buildings, clinging to the brick and plaster like ivy. Window-eyes blared through the solid dark, cutting swathes of cruel luminescence into the approaching night.
Xuan examined the shadows far opposite her, searching for what she knew she would find, but ignorant of where her knowledge came from. There. In the deep recesses of some dank alleyway shone two small pale lights, glinting softly in the dead orange light. They were no ordinary lights. There was an intelligence about them, cold, calculating. Their eyes locked, a pseudo-canine made form shadow and the blood of fallen prey, and the glinting intelligence hidden in the brick-lined sanctuary.
Xuan's vocal chords hissed, wrapped themselves in knots, and she howled.
Gaulish Viking metal is actually, an aphrodisiac
Several tireless hours of practice, he finally got it. On the first days of the hunt, he learned how to pull people to him using his strings. Hours later he knew how to use them as cutting weapons. Now, he had almost perfected the use of his power. He was flipping Spiderman, except for the fact that his 'web' can cut people up, given enough speed is put into them. Hunting among the streets, he has torn up several of the police already. A cut up body here, a shredded one there, all their hearts pulled into Mark's maw in an instant after their death. It was...fun, he thought. Or what he thought was fun. A feeling of exhilaration ran through him for every kill he made, every bullet he dodged, and every police car that foolishly chased him. Minutes after the carnage, he went back into hiding, into a little hovel in one of the smallest alleys. They were cut up in a manner only his strings can remove and replace, unless someone strikes it with enough force, and strikes at the right place. He didn't really need to rest, but taking a break would be fine. He'll hunt again by dusk tomorrow.
Sometimes I wonder if it's all too easy.
Lying, cheating, stealing your way to victory.
Though just how far would you fall for a dream?
{Dusk/Evening. A block from Zuan.}
The howl ripped through the newborn evening, filling the concrete valley that was this borough of NYC. It was a soul searing sound, promising death in all its inevitableness. And to the remaining people in the street, already in a panic and fleeing for their lives, it caused a paradoxical reaction.
Instead of running away even faster, the scream of the hunter caused a million year old survival instinct to awaken and warn each person. It said, ”There is a predator in the night. Stop, don’t move. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Hide, and hope it eats someone else.”
And so the whole block froze where they were, crouched and shivering, rabbits ready to bolt, but fearing that the movement would single them out.
Archard watched from the alley, as his stampede of meat suddenly stopped and hid where they could. He was more impressed than he cared to admit. To be able to generate that much fear, with a single howl. But he also knew that the hunt wasn’t for the meat. It was for him.
Focusing on the source of the sound, the slim shade could see the form of a misshaped hound. Except it wasn’t any type of hound that had ever lived on this plane of existance. Almost a hyena in shape, with longer front legs than rear, a hunched twisted back, and a short, blunted snout protruding from under milky white eyes. The eyes of the ultimate huntress.
Archard felt the thrill of the hunt, even if he was to be the prey. For when two hunters face off, each had to play the dual roles. And it meant that in the end, it was the most intelligent one who won.
And he was very, very intelligent.
The lithe shade climbed the wall of the building next to him. On reaching the roof, he headed back up the street he had just come down, returning to the parking garage he had passed earlier. He made sure that he was not visible from the street below, as he doubled back.
Once he reached the garage, he rapidly lost himself in the multiple levels and ramps, until at last he found a shadow darken corner. There, he clung to the ceiling, next to a large beam of concrete. Drawing his sword, but not activating the power, Archard settled in for the wait.
Patience was always the key to a successful hunt.
Xuan lost her prey in the silence. For the aftermath was only silent. Forced quietude reigned across the streets, instinctual in it's reaction and forever sudden in the time in which it activates. Fight, or flight?
There was no choice for Xuan. Her prey was somewhere near, the scent was intoxicating, acidic and putrefying all at once. She longed to taste it. Her sharp eyes had lost the glint of intelligent milky-whites in the immediate stillness of the street below her, the abrupt change causing her to lose focus. (For no matter how much she looked like the stalking wolf, the lioness, she was still human, still shadow-human).
She tried to trace the movements of the shadow, but it was like tracking one petal among thousands falling from the sakura tree, nigh impossible in the travelling dark. So she arched her back, snapping it back until she stood on crouched hind legs, bunched on powerful muscles, and leaned forward on thin arms, long and whip-like.
The scent was old here, but the wind had picked up new traces, coming form behind and to the side, it was light, and dying slowly, but it was enough for a hunter. Xuan dropped from the building, crushing a hapless human who had tried to hide beneath the crouching-gargoyle beast, away from it's moon-eye stare, and died all the same, it's lung and heart pierced by shards of broken bone
Then the screaming began again. A torrent of flesh radiated away from where Xuan landed, like the ripples in a still pond. The sound raised higher and higher, piercing the air with more clarity than Xuan could ever hope to achieve with her half-beast, half-human cried of the hunt. Pure human terror.
Xuan licked her mongrel lips. It was so sweet. She almost anticipated the killing, but as her arms reached for the closest morsel, the scent of living shadow closed in on her, and she knew again what she was truly hunting for.
Doing her best to ignore the tantalising screams Xuan followed the scent as best she could. It was obvious that her prey had leaped through the shadows just as she did, and, upon closer inspection, that she hunted a male. (She didn't know how this knowledge came to her, how she was capable of divining specifics from the barest trace of scent).
She doubled round, back and followed once more, people still fleeing before her shadow-form. The scent was stronger now, almost direct. Xuan could taste the difference in the shadow texture, it clung to her throat like ash, sticky and flavourless, chocking.
Into the tall building, the one filled with cars. (From far away Xuan knew she held the name of the building, she knew she could describe its function and the reason for its presence, and the part of her that still denied any of this was happening began to think on the matters of the hunt, and the differing mindsets she had already shown). First floor, clear, second, clear. The scent was strong, so strong. It filled her nostrils like smoke, thick and heavy, chocking her and filling her with ever more eagerness to reach into the propagator of the smell and tear and rend him limb from limb, to feast upon the putrid heart and gorge on its flesh.
Third floor now. The smell overran her senses. Her eyes cast edgily around, searching for those milky-whites and the intelligence behind them.
There. Xuan's maw snapped open, spilling shadow and saliva, a guttural noise escaped the depths of her throat, half-growl, half-exclamation of (false) joy. She charged, hind legs catapulting her forward, forearms whipping around to slice like knives at the shadow on the wall.
Gaulish Viking metal is actually, an aphrodisiac
"So much food," Mark thought, "Why let it go to waste?" About to let his strings flow once more, Mark stopped mid-process.
"No, I shouldn't. Something is hunting something, and if it's hunting something while leaving all these food behind, it must be special. It would be quite rude to just break the silence of the hunt. Maybe I should see what's hunting what?"
With that, Mark set off, leaping a great distance to the next building, the sound of the howl still echoing in his ears, almost guiding him.
Sometimes I wonder if it's all too easy.
Lying, cheating, stealing your way to victory.
Though just how far would you fall for a dream?
{Parking Garage with Xuan. Mark and Kurt are closing in on the location}
The suddenness of the attack surprised Archard badly. The malformed, beastly humanoid, with its whip-like arms had barely appeared on the floor when it had launched itself at his hiding spot with misshapen legs like steel springs. The slim shade shadow jumped to a far corner of the 3rd floor, but not quickly enough.
Even as he faded into the shadow tunnel for his escape, the twin armed attack struck him in chest and shoulder. The high impact knocked his sword from his hand, and if it were not for his armored vest, the chest blow would have speared him through and through. As it were, he was thrown through his escape tunnel and into the distant wall with enough force to crack the cinderblock and raise a small cloud of dust.
Bouncing back from the impact, Archard fell to one knee. His right shoulder burned cold and his inspection showed a jagged laceration deep into the joint where the arm met the shoulder. Black, inky wisps of smoky shadow boiled out of the wound, dripping toward the floor, evaporating before it hit.
Hissing at the pain, Archard tried the trick he had used when he first awoke on the coroner’s table. He drew a finger from his left hand down the edges of the wound. A black glow followed the trail his finger made, and the wound closed. There was still a painful cold ache deep inside, but his ‘blood’ had ceased to flow.
Turning terrible, cold, angry eyes toward his distant hunter, Archard curled his fingers into claws and growled a deep, throated, “Bring it!”
[[This is for clant]]
Sometimes I wonder if it's all too easy.
Lying, cheating, stealing your way to victory.
Though just how far would you fall for a dream?
He ran out, hollering "Come get me you shade scum!" He began firing shots into the parapet of the roof opposite, and his gun made a lot of noise. That as well as shooting flames. He continued to fire, he knew the police wouldn't come. People would assume that the Bullet Eaters and Rolling Hearts were having a Turf war of sorts, and would be too afraid to call the cops. That and, when he had left they had started becoming corrupt. He even reached down and began throwing stones. He just hopes Zeke would be able to save him in time.
{Dockside warehouse roof. Halt is in front of warehouse, Cale is circling around the block.}
The sharp, heavy thunder of the hand cannon that Halt fired echoed mightily throughout the warehouse district. The three foot long tongues of flame leaped from the barrel of the magnum handgun, causing a strob like effect of light and shadows across the parking lot. Zeke could even see an occasional spark from the building across the way, as Halt's bullets nicked the corrogated steel siding.
"When that man makes a distraction, he does not do it by half," thought the young Harbringer, as he belly crawled across the rooftop of his warehouse. The assault rifle was held causiously until he reached a vent stack that offered some concealment, but gave his almost a full view of the parking lot and neighboring buildings. There he took up a prone firing stance and clicked the safety switch to semi-automatic. Keeping his finger off the trigger, Zeke began searching the surrounding rooftops for a target.
"Only twenty rounds, remember. That's all you've got. It only takes one, but twenty is the absolute max," ran like a mantra through his head.
Below, Halt was throwing rocks of all things, the stones causing a dull drum beat as they hit the side of the buildings. And he was still shouting like a madman.
Now... would the shade take the bait?
{Dockside Warehouse. Zeke on roof, Cale circling. Halt and Malikai in combat in parking lot}
Zeke was watching over Halt, scanning the building across the parking lot, looking for any signs of the enemy. Halt had been standing in the open, shouting and randomly fireing his gun. One second he was alone. The next a leather jacket wearing man with pitch black hair stood behind the older Harbringer.
Zeke was so shocked at the sudden appearance, that he couldn't even shout a warning before the figure raised a black hand, tapped Halt on the shoulder, then uppercut the retired cop.
Zeke scrambled to his knees, aiming the rifle as he shouted, "HALT!"
((Ok. Everyone seems to be headed for, or already in, combat. Remember, to make an interesting read, the action cannot be one sided. Everyone should give and take. When you attack, do not write that your attack hits and causes such and such damage. Write that you try to do this and that, and let your target respond with how the attack worked out. Some will miss, some will do glancing blows and some will hit. Everyone, please be fair. No one is superman and invulnerable. Battle scars will occur. Everyone will take damage occassionaly, and everyone will win some and lose some. Keep that in mind.
I will be working for the next two nights, so there will be limited posting on my part. Sting and Tambar, have a fun dance. In the end, Malikai will lose this one. Cloud and clant: start something between the two of you. Queen, I will try to keep responding over the next two days, but cant guarentee anything. cptporkins, you can meet up with the npc Yetto after your fight with the fake mugging. He will tell you about Zeke and the warehouse. do with it what you will.
For those on the roster, but havent posted in the last week, you have until sunday to join in, or you will be put on probation. Harbringer roster will open up sunday as well.
Have a good day, and fun writing!))
Music.
He allowed the crooning voice, soft guitars and heavy base to wash over him, purging all of his worries. It wasn't until his 'audience' had finished up, and the victor had begun to climb down did he hear him. And by that time, it was no use running. So, instead, he opened one eye, raised a hand, and let off a blast wave of energy, watching as it dissapated just in front of the man. It was supposed to be a warning that 'This guy can mess you up, don't screw with him.', and hopefully it was interpreted that way.
His hands aflame, if this failed he would just have to fling them at him and hope Zeke would save his ass..
LOL PSYCHE H SAID AND SHOT MALIKAI IN THE FACESometimes I wonder if it's all too easy.
Lying, cheating, stealing your way to victory.
Though just how far would you fall for a dream?
Clant replies to the other shade,"I'm not doing anything, but somebody else sure is, and I came to watch"
YETTO
{Alley: Ins sits among multiple bodies of would-be muggers, who lie crumpled on the ground.}
The extremely tall Harbringer stopped as a colored distortion filled the air in front of him. He could feel a vibration tickle in his chest, and a buzzing noise barely registered in his ears. Yetto knew that if he were to proceed into the strange field, the sound and vibrations would intensify. And, as evidenced by the multiple crumpled figures filling the alley, eventually it would do more than tickle.
Almost hypnotized by the pulsing, vibrant colors that made the sound waves visible, Yetto cautiously extended a hand into the field. He could feel the vibrations increase, the deeper he reached, and amazingly, he began to hear a song. Not so much through his ears, as through the bones of his arm making an almost subliminal orchestra inside his head. It was quite… disturbing, actually.
Pulling his hand back, and rubbing it to get the tingle out of it, the raven haired young man nodded to the tattooed and scarred man seated against the alley wall. Yetto would guess that the two of them were of a like age, though the stranger seemed to have had a rougher life. Still, his display said that perhaps, here was another person for Zeke’s crusade.
“I am Yetto,” he began without preamble. “I too, am a Harbringer. I have an associate who may be able to help you learn about and develop your abilities. Would that be something that may interest you?”
Sometimes I wonder if it's all too easy.
Lying, cheating, stealing your way to victory.
Though just how far would you fall for a dream?