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Game System

World of Darkness

Status

Active

Full Description

The World of Darkness resembles the contemporary world, but it is darker, more devious and more conspiratorial. The dichotomy between rich and poor, influential and weak, powerful and powerless, is much more pronounced than in the real world. Decadence, cynicism and corruption are common. Humans are unwitting victims or pawns of vast secret organizations of supernatural creatures. Vampires, werewolves and wraith —among others— struggle with internal factionalism and against other species in secret wars of intrigue for control of reality. The battles in these wars may last centuries, beyond the realization or comprehension of ordinary humans. This status quo is recently threatened by the rise of a global Technocratic cabal (and/or an animistic spirit of stasis and control) intent on monopolizing the power of belief and destroying all traditional supernatural societies.

*This is not a 'by the book' World of Darkness game.  While a lot of themes and events may be recognized by players, anything and everything can and will be changed to best suit the need of the story.

  1. What's new in this game
  2. Disoriented and confused, Maya fumbled for something to write with, tipping over an ancient owl-shaped mug full of brittle pencils and dried-out markers in her haste. Her hand fell on a green felt-tip pen with the cap still intact, and she jabbed the point repeatedly on the back of an old receipt until the ink reluctantly started to flow again. The result was legible, but only just- it didn't matter if the information was coherent, just that she needed to get it all down. She could always figure out what to do with it later. Mason A name? Job? Org? Soulless Ginger? What? Woman + Window- Accident ---Obits Man + Shadow = WTF Pooka Rabbit Troll -Seth Chosen ??? Dreams & doors She jammed the scrap of paper into the front pocket of her purse and left it there, and for the next 45 minutes, as she finished tidying up and getting everything ready for that sticky-fingered slag in the morning, Maya let the entire experience just sort of... go, like leaving the radio on in the background while focusing on other things. She didn't have time to really sit down and process anything just yet, and despite just having awakened from a nap, she felt completely exhausted. There were no other interruptions, no strangeness that didn't already exist in New York. When the young assistant librarian finally locked up, the utter disinterest of the city that never sleeps was almost a relief.
  3. that's all cool I wasn't expecting to get a bunch information immediately that why i said began a comprehensive research project. i figured i'd need to make rolls and refine as we went along
  4. Casey, if you're running a comprehensive search for info on Mourne I'll set you up this one as a freebie since most of the investigative work can and would probably be done in a few days. I'll also assume she calls in a few favors from contacts, but being a freebie, those favors won't be held against you later. Mostly because everything she get's back on Mourne is legit. The guy is exactly what he says he is, complete with office and pretty Admin Assistant. Thus far his alaby is tight... being the World of Darkness... maybe a little too tight. He's clean. However, what sort of GM would I be if I left it at that? So, another freebie, if you want to investigate him, you certainly can. The problem at the moment is that you're looking in the wrong places and you may have to fracture a law here or there to get the info you want (whether you do it yourself or hire a guy, is on you). Investigate his home. Investigate his office. Following him. Are all great ways to get that ball rolling and if you want to pursue that, we can (probably in a different thread). While we're on the topic of the law... Remember this is the World of Darkness. Everything is a bit bleaker and there's more crime and more problems and more of everything negative. Which means, sometimes you guys are going to want to do something that isn't quite 'good'. Put the good and evil baby to bed, rip that band aid off, you'll thank me later. As PCs you are going to have to do some things that are not quite nice or frankly just plain wrong in the grand scheme of your personal moral code. I get it. The game has a theme and that theme is dark heroism, which means that as long as you guys are not running around murdering and and devouring the flesh of babies... I'll be okay with most of the minor bad things you wanna try and get away with, especially if it's in line with getting the plot resolved. In fact, you will probably have to do a few questionable things from time to time. Examples: Starting a fire to evacuate a building for a distraction. (Cool) Setting people on fire to cause a distraction. (Not cool, bro) Breaking and entering to gather intel on someone or something. (Cool) Breaking into some dudes house to murder him because he cut you off in traffic. (Not cool, bro) Hitting museum security with a baton to knock them out. (Cool) Tossing museum security from the second floor and impaling them on the Japanese samurai spear exhibit because you saw in a movie once. (So not cool, bro) Basically, use discretion. It's a forgone conclusion that eventually you guys are all going to kill someone or something, it happens. Aside from that, I don't care wasted or stoned your characters get or big of an asshole they become, as long as they aren't doing things to end up on the FBI's most wanted list, have fun with it and be reasonable.
  5. Mel Grimson

    IC: Mel - 'Deb By Dawn'

    Mel looked at the card, then at the towel on the floor. Tasks, clean up the floor and dispose of the blood and fingernail. Call Brent tomorrow and get the monkey suit handled. And investigate this art show so the situation was understood. Just because nothing never really happened at these events, did not mean Mel Grimson the ex-Ranger would forgo his reconnaissance.
  6. The bitter chill of the New York streets at night greeted Horatio as kindly as it did all others. He pulled his collar up and walked off down the street. He was not but fifty yards when his smartphone dialed a number and he pressed it to his ear. The call connected, but no one said a word of greeting. "I've found one," he said. "The dreams, the visions, it's all starting. It's loose. The time has come." He looked back down the street at the coffee shop and sighed softly. His expression marking that he didn't envy the rather normal Miss Mason and what was in store ahead of her. He pressed the thumb sized red button on his screen. "Weaver have mercy on us all." Quietly he walked off into the night.
  7. Casey Mason

    IC: Casey - "Hear I Am"

    Casey had been a lawyer, technically still was, maybe not a brilliant one but a good one. She knew how to read people, how to interpret reaction, how to cause reactions. And as she sat there staring at her coffee and the nail lying on the table, listening to Mr Mourn, Horatio, one part of her brain the inquiring, inquisitive litigator part wasn't hearing what it thought she should have been hearing. Casey had just told this man, a man she had only met today and had in the middle of the night called up and begged for a meeting, told him a story that should have had him questioning if not her sanity, her suitability at the very least, to handle an important event such as the catering job. But instead he was still wooing her so to speak, trying to convince that this was an important step in saving the coffee shop. His story had a ring of truth to it and she could hear the heartfelt if reserved emotion behind it, but why not at least mention that he had been a patron of the shop in the past this afternoon. That would have gone along way to establishing a historical rapport. Something was nagging her and she couldn't even begin to fathom why or what. Maybe she was going crazy. "Maybe your right Mr Mourn," She scooped up the nail and slipped it into her shirt pocket, then wrapped her hands around her coffee mug., "Maybe it's just the stress of the last few weeks. You definitely hit a few nails on the head. I'll take the rest of the night, get some sleep and think it over when my heads a little clearer and the sun is up. Again I am sorry for dragging you out here for nothing. I'll call you tomorrow with an answer one way or the other." "That sounds good and fair Casey," he took a last swallow of his coffee and sat the mug down as he stood, "I look forward to your call." She stood as well and they said good night and she watched as Mourn left the shop returning the small wave that he gave as he passed the window outside. After a few moments she turned to Nancy the night manager, "I'm gonna be in my office just lock up when everything's done I'll let myself out." Alone in her strangely immaculate office Casey Mason opened up her computer and began a much more comprehensive research project on a certain Mr. Horatio Mourn.
  8. Brent laughed. "Yeah, honestly, I wish, sometimes. These things are dreadfully boring, but they pay a lot. We won't be packing. Tasers and batons only, and so far the most we've had to deal with was a disgruntled ex we had to carry out after she took an exacto to an exhibit one evening. She was off her nut, drunk and probably on something too. They can get interesting, but ninety percent of the time, they're dull and as much fun as standing watch on Christmas." "Here," he handed Mel a business card. "Call me in the next few days, I'll have Suzanne, my PA, get you measured for a suit. On me, I still owe you for spotting that fake Rolex in Taiwan, you saved me a bundle." "You know everything in Taiwan is fake, right?" Mel shot him a look from a raised brow. "Well, I do now." He laughed. "Get in touch and uh, get your hand looked at man, You're uh, bleeding a little bit there. You're supposed to wear gloves when you hit the bag, old man!" Brent laughed again and let himself out. Mel could hear him already on his phone setting up some other deal before he even hit the staircase.
  9. "And, dreams are places, kid. Our doors are locked, as are yours. You don't think of it that way because your human mind is all garbled up with the banal things like logic and reasoning... like trying to guess where you've seen us from instead of simply accepting that we are, what we are." The rabbit-man approached her, now that she seemed to be calming considerably. He motioned for her to walk with him. He took a few steps and when she followed (still completely weirded out) he continued. "We're not figments, or your minds way of putting masks on a finer point it'd like you to remember. Frankly, we don't have time to get into Pookas and Trolls right now, that's later." "Lady, you seem like a sweet kid," his tone was something of pure fatherly empathy. In just those few words she felt like she could have trusted him implicitly with anything... except he still looked like a rabbit. "And I really hate having to dump this on you, and trust me, you sure as hell ain't gonna believe a word of it if pookas and trolls are too much for your mind, but here goes..." Seth chimed up before the rabbit had a chance to continue. "World's dying. Not just ours, but yours. People don't dream anymore. People don't believe in magic, so magic dies. People don't believe in dreams, so dreams die. Dark world, no joy. No love. No laughter or kindness." "W-what he's trying to say, kid... is, uh... there's something out there, something mean and dark, and ugly. It'd slowly, one smartphone and one corporate cubical at a time, killing all the love and laughter in the world," the pooka sorrowfully hopped up on a chair, then a table and was finally eye level with the young librarian. "Crime, school shootings, Trump, police brutality, rioting, Justin Beiber fans... the world hasn't gone mad, kid. It's infected. Infected by an entity that causes and spreads absolute chaos until all that's left is a downward spiral into Oblivion. We need you to find a way to stop it, or it will lead to war and anarchy, and there will be nothing left, eventually. As far as I know the prophesy said find the Mason and the Souless One, which I'm guessing is a last name and Souless One could only mean a Ginger, right? Ghosts can't be Chosen, as far as I know. Find the others, and we'll talk again, I swear it." "Time." Seth said softly, reminding the pooka. "Right, well, good luck lady, have fun, don't die oh and uh... that old heffer sometimes steals money from your wallet when you fall asleep in here at night reading. See? Knowing dream people has advantages." He smiled (could rabbits smile?) and raised his hand, snapping the 'fingers' on his paw. "You can wake up now." Maya lurched up from her nap, like she'd awoken form a fall right before she'd struck the ground... or someone else struck the ground... someone fell out a window, but it wasn't a window... it was... a dream? Like all dreams the memory of it swiftly because to fade. Enough of it remained to make her believe that something wasn't not okay with either her life, or her coffee... because she saw the entity that tore an unknown man in half and consumed in the folds of it's darkness... she saw a woman fall to her death. Where did she know her from?
  10. "That's our call, Casey," Mr. Mourne said, sympathetically. He sipped his coffee and pursed his lips to savor the taste. Say you wanted about the place, they sure knew how to make great coffee here. He sighed and looked her in the eyes. "I understand you're having a really weird night, I get that. I've had a few my self in my day. Telling me what you told me took some courage, I gotta give you that, so I'm going to be honest in return." He took another swallow of his java and set the cup down, spinning it with his finger tips, like nervous people often did. "Miss Mason, Casey, I didn't select this place at random. This is one of the last locally owned businesses we have here in Manhattan. It has great people, great atmosphere, and it's something that stands for neighborhood pride with a ton of history in these four walls. What's more, is that it's dying, Casey. We both know that. This place is one, maybe two missed bill payments from becoming broken and limp in the jaws of another Starbucks." "My dad and I came in here all the time when I was a boy, never was much of a coffee drinker, but man, did I love the smell," He smiled and chuckled, perhaps lingering a memory. "Places like this have... an amazing amount of value. To the people, to the city. They start to have a life of their own after awhile, like Ol' Joe's Barber Shop a few blocks away. There's a certain magic to them, where boys like me learned so much sitting in that chair, or sitting here with dad while he drank his coffee and I nursed a chocolate milk." "People tell me you've done great things here, so far," he smiled at her, and there was certainly a sense of compassion behind it, like a silent 'thank you' for deeds he had no idea she'd even done. "But we both know its not enough. I can't force you to cater, but from one not-quite stranger to another: don't let a strange dream, a rough night, and an awkward moment between strangers snuff out a dream that's decades old. This place doesn't mean a whole lot to a ton of people, but it means everything to just enough people that it's worth saving. Just my two cents. Why not get a decent night's rest, and give me a call tomorrow sometime. If you feel the same way then, I understand, but for now, don't let the oddity of the dream or the stress influence your decision. Okay?"
  11. "I'm... dreaming." Maya repeated dazedly as something clicked into place in her brain, and the battle between her eyes and her logical mind ended in a reluctant truce. It was, after all, the only possible scenario in which she wasn't a raving lunatic. She realized too that it was actually quiet in the library, without either the normal city noises bleeding in from outside, or the omnipresent voice of Deb, who was apparently filling in for literally every other DJ at the station today. "Okay, that... that makes sense, I guess," she continued, staring at her sleeping self for a moment while her body's alert system ratcheted down from DEFCON 1 and her explosively racing heartbeat slowly returned to normal pulmonary function. How would her dreaming mind perceive her actual face? Would she even be able to see it, or would it be horribly distorted? As much as she wanted to lift the book that was obscuring her other self's appearance, to see what "she" looked like, something gave her pause. This dream was already going in a weird direction, and seeing her actual self while sleeping in a dream felt like it would be crossing some boundary, violating a taboo or something. "So, then, where did you guys come from? I mean, yeah," she gestured vaguely toward the two, "Alice Through The Looking-Glass, and maybe Shrek since we had it on repeat for a while, but it's been a minute since either of those has come across the desk." Then again, sure, talking animals and helpful monsters are pretty much a staple of fairy tales and folklore, and so is the whole 'hero's journey' idea. Man, Jill is gonna have to book me for an extra session for this. A pair of tiny furrows appeared between her brows as she frowned, tentatively moving away from the door and addressing the pair of interlopers into her head-space more directly. Somehow, knowing that this was only happening because she was asleep didn't diminish the level of wiggins they were giving her. "And what's this 'something big' in 'my world' that I'm supposed to somehow help you with? You just said this was a dream."
  12. Mel Grimson

    IC: Mel - 'Deb By Dawn'

    Mel opened his mouth to say something, anything... and then his mind flashed back to the torn fingernail hidden under a towel. Perhaps he really did need something. "An art show, though?" It sounded sharper than he meant, so Mel amended. "I mean I'll take it Brent. But what do you expect? A daring heist? A band of gunmen storming in to take the assembled upper crust hostage for ransom?"
  13. Casey Mason

    IC: Casey - "Hear I Am"

    Casey can't help but see her reflection in Mourn's eyes and the sympathetic look on his face. She closes her eyes for a second shaking hr head slightly. "God you must think I'm a fucking lunatic. And I don't blame you." She takes a deep breath and lets it out glances around the coffee shop. "And I don't blame you. Look I am so sorry I bothered you tonight....I don't know maybe your right and I'm just stressing out over... everything." She looks at her hands and the nail on the table top, maybe it was just stuck in the sofa, but then it would have had to have been there since before she had moved in. "Again Mr Mourn, I am sorry to have bothered you and to have wasted your time asking you to come down here. I think maybe we need to pass on the catering job."
  14. "Us, hurt you!?" The rabbit proclaimed, his arms outstretched wide. "Lady, you're the one throwing books and hitting poor Seth in the face, and screaming and yelling, and carrying on like a maniac! What is wrong with you? How could you do that to poor Seth, I mean look at this mug?" In a single leap the rabbit hopped from the floor to a display table and off of it spanning a great distance to land on Seth's shoulder, and slowly arc his hand down in front of Seth's face, like Vanna White drawing attention to a turned letter. Seth smiled a crooked smile, his tusks fully exposed as his lips parted to reveal a grin and giant as his physique. "I mean, honestly, you people are so uppity. Lady, you're not even awake! Where were you planning on going?" The rabbit motioned with his arm, directing her vision to where Maya was resting, her head resting comfortably on her arm. The book she was reading had fallen over, masking her face from soft reading lights glowing overhead. "Dreaming." Seth said softly. His monstrous features seemed misplaced as an expression of compassion washed over his features as he gazed upon the sleeping Maya. "The Darkness. We can't come to your world." "D-dreaming?" Maya stammered, still scared out of her mind. "Something like that," the rabbit said. He hopped down from Seth's shoulders and approached her, his hands up like he meant no harm. "I mean, we're not invading your steamy Tom Hiddleston fantasies, or nothing. I dunno what it is about that guy that drives you women nuts... but last week, you and him in Spain... ugh, nice choice. Very romantic sunset." "Help." Seth nudged the rabbit. "Right... right, as to why we're here. Something big is about to happen in your world, lady. Something real big, and it affects us too. Problem is, we can't do anything about it, so we need you and others like you to do all the leg work for us... if you don't... well, one day... there just won't be any dreams left to dream."
  15. "Well," Mr. Mourne smiled. "That's not the worst pick line I've heard, but certainly up there on the strange meter." Casey's look did not describer in the slightest bit as amused. "Okay, sorry. Casey, look, think of it from my perspective, that's one hell of a weird pill to swallow. You're under a lot of stress lately, that much is obvious. Maybe too much coffee... or not enough? This isn't the movies, people don't have 'visions'. You had a bad dream, and we just met today so I was still fresh in your mind, so I happened to be in it. That's it. You're going to be fine, just try to unwind and get some decent rest."
  16. "Doing well," he replied. "I heard about Cecilia, Mel. I'm sorry. I was in Bahrain when I got the news, I'm sorry I couldn't be here for the service." Conners took Mel's hand, gripping it tight and pulled him into a hug. "Been awhile, man." "Too long," was Mel reply. It was a weird night for the guy, so it was no surprise was currently a man of few words. Brent (which was Conners's first name), broke off the embrace and Mel ushered him into his apartment. It would be more suspicious if Mel tried to hide behind his door, so he figured if the guy was gonna notice something off, he may as well face the music standing tall. "Wow," he investigated the obvious downgrade from the home he'd visited the Grimson's in before Cecelia's passing. "Okay, I ain't gonna lie, Mel... I've known you a long time, and I gotta say... you look like shit, bro." As Mel rolled his eyes with a sight, not really in the mood for a lecture, Brent continued. "When was the last time you were out of here, barring a workout? Look, hear me out... my guys are booked for a gig in a couple'a weeks. Security for some art show, or something. I want the best for this one, it's a big deal for my business and, well, Grimson... you're the best. I want your eyes there, man. Plus, and I'm saying this because I love you, bro... you really need to get out and meet some people."
  17. Mel Grimson

    IC: Mel - 'Deb By Dawn'

    "Gimme a minute Connors!" Mel took the time to quickly fold up the throw rug and throw down a towel so that the blood and the scratches were concealed. He did not want to have to answer painful questions. Mel smiled for once in the past few days when the door swung open."Sorry, my idiot neighbor's been bothering me. Thank god it's you." He didn't recall if Conners had called after Cecelia's death. He reached out to shake Connor's hand firmly. "Long time, no see. How are you?"
  18. Casey Mason

    IC: Casey - "Hear I Am"

    Casey just looked at him for several seconds then she glanced outside through the plate glass front at the street. It was just starting to rain big fat drops hitting the glass, one, two, then two or three together then it started coming down in sheets. Mourn watched her looked outside then back at her. The barista brought him his drink and that seemed to wake Casey up. “Let's sit.” She took his hand and led him to a booth instead of the office, she wasn't going in there that was where the weird had started she was sure of it. “Miss Mason, Casey, Is everything alright?” Horatio asked after they sat facing each other.. Casey shook her head No then leaned onto the table getting as close to him as she could with him on the other side. “You know I'm a lawyer and I'm logical, analytical and fairly observant. I'm not prone to flights of fancy nor do I drink excessively or take drugs. So while I know what I am about to say to you sounds crazy. I'm not” She sits back and looks around the Full Pot, looking for anything out of place, anyone paying more attention to Mourn and her than they should. For any shadows moving like they had a will of their own. Abruptly she sits forward again “I had a dream or vision tonight. It was after I got home, I was about to call you to accept the offer when you knocked on my door...” She relates the whole of her 'dream' to Horatio in quick detail “...and I woke up just as it got me. Right there on the couch just like … as if I had fell asleep and dreamed it all. But it seemed so real and I don't have dreams like that. So when I moved to grab my phone off the coffee table I felt a sharp pain and pulled that out of my back.” She tossed the nail still stained with dried blood on the table between them. “Don't ask me why, but I needed to tell you.”
  19. The scream caught in Maya's throat, escaping only in erratic whimpers and panicked, juddering breaths; her whole body shook visibly as she pressed her back against the doors, rattling them with every terrified spasm. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. Monsters weren't real- not like these, anyway. Monsters were people, people who lured kids into dark places, who enjoyed hurting and abusing, who were so broken inside they were compelled to destroy beautiful, innocent things. She could almost feel her grasp on reality slipping as she stared at the two figures before her, even as her mind clawed desperately at its fraying edges. No! They're just vagrants! Just a couple of weird homeless guys, a big biker dude and a- an- an albino with dwarfism, it insisted, frantically trying to make sense of a nonsensical situation, to rationalize, to figure out how to create a plausible scenario to which she could react. In this case, she was obviously being confronted by a pair of drug addicts, or maybe mental patients, but who knew what they wanted from her, and because she was panicking she'd just missed the alarm button, and the doors- Her eyes, however, dispassionately related a different story, one her rational, reasonable, mundane mind was trying so very hard to refute: An ogre and a talking rabbit had invaded her library, and trapped her inside. She wanted so badly to squeeze those eyes shut, to block out the insanity and wait for reality to reassert itself, but she was too afraid to look away. "Please," the assistant librarian, who definitely did not get paid enough for this and who was (in her estimation) far too young to die, begged tearfully as she tried in vain to melt backwards through the doors, her words scarcely more than a choked whisper. "P-please don't hurt me."
  20. Mel was finishing bandaging his finger tips and walking down the hall to the kitchen to start something to eat there was another knock at the door. His blood boiled momentarily at the thought of Deacon next door bothering him some more until a voice declared that it certainly not Deacon. "Mel?" The person in the hall tapped on the door a few more times. "Mel? It's Conners." Conners was an old service buddy of his. He'd gotten out years ago and started a private security business here in New York keeping the rich and powerful alive so they could keep being rich and vapid. "Grimson," a few more taps at the door echoed in the apartment. "Open up, soldier, I came by to talk."
  21. Hope seemed in as short supply as sanity this evening. It had been nearly an hour and a half and still she paced back and forth. The other baristas continued to give her concerned looks, but for the most part didn't bother her as she chewed nervously on the nail of her thumb. Like New York coffee houses, The Full Pot was open pretty late most evenings. The closing time was really a suggestion, providing the influx of customers at the hour was enough to justify the pay roll being used. This was one of those evenings, where the place was (thankfully) packed with Tinder first dates, early drunks looking to sober up before the next party, and, as always the Pokemon Go late crowds who were gathered in a series of corner booths laughing and training their little mutant pets. She'd considered leaving a few times. The entire thing seemed absurd, in all honesty, but something was eating away at her, and nails don't magically appear in people's skin... do they? The thought crossed her mind once more, to just give up on all this and go home and hope Mr. Mourne didn't think she was some sort of closet psycho and pull her from the art gala. She'd known the guy all of what? 12 hours? And here she was calling him and telling him to be careful and meet her in a coffee shop in New York after hours... she'd gone from Casey Mason, Barista to Jason Bourne, super spy. She'd let out one final sigh and turned to the door when Horatio Mourne pushed it open and offered the baristas on duty a polite smile. He hadn't seemed to notice Casey, yet. He'd changed from his suit into something more casual. Hiking boots, denim jeans and a solid blue t-shirt with a heavy, stylish leather jacket to fight off the evening chill. His hair was still in a pony tail and thoroughly kempt as ever. The barista pointed to Casey and he nodded to her and said something to the barista and tapped the counter before approaching her. "Miss Mason," he offered her a smile but she didn't miss the awkward confusion in his tone. "Is... everything okay? You sounded a little rattled. Sorry, I would have been here sooner, I had some business and they didn't permit phones on the premises. Protection trade secrets and all that."
  22. "Ow," was all the massive 'creature' offered up in a tone so lazy Maya might had taken offense to they he'd ignored her assault like it was nothing... were she not running away and screaming for her life. "Oh, for crying out loud Seth! Are you frickin' serious!?" The second voice shouted with that thick DiVito/Jersey accent. "I told you, let me do the talking! Now you freaked her out!" May made it to the desk where the silent alarm was. Her hand slid under the counter and found nothing. There was no switch, no button. It was supposed to be here. Right here! Cursing in a panic she looked around, maybe she had the wrong the desk in her hurry to escape? No. It was gone from under the entire reception area... the alarm button was... "Gone?" Said the second voice. "Yeah, it ain't there is it? Look, calm down lady... you're gonna give yourself a panic attack and between you and me? I ain't CPR certified in the State of New York..." She still couldn't see the second one, but 'Seth' the creature was giggling at her misfortune at not finding the panic button. He took three massive, thunderous steps towards her and she screamed and was off like a shot. Maya slammed into the library's main doors, unable to brake her speed in her panic. She gripped the handles tight and pulled on them. Nothing. She unlocked them, pulled again, then pushed... still nothing. The doors were jammed! They rattled and creaked but refused to open! "Oh, yeah! The button is mysteriously gone from under the desk, but wait! The doors must still work, right?! Wrong-O! C'mon lady... are you serious right now? You realize if you were a white girl in a towel right, the serial killer would have already killed you by now, right? Man you humans are so pig headed..." Seth lumbered around the corner, his massive size blocked her from escape. She was trapped. He continued to move closer, slowing his pace with his hands raised up like he was dealing with a dog he didn't want to bite him. "Good, lady." He said softly, with a hint of a mental disorder. Maya offered another scream as a reply. "Lady, seriously! Could you stop with all the screaming!? I mean really, I have sensitive ears, and poor Seth here has a heart condition... can we keep the drama to a minimum, please?" The voice was close... really close. May frantically looked around until a tug at her shirt brought her attention to the floor where she was greeted by a... rabbit? A three foot tall bipedal rabbit... bit it was definitely a rabbit. A look of confusion and dread mingled itself all over her expression. The rabbit narrowed his eyes. "Lady, I swear, if you're thinking about punting me, we're gonna have a problem because I'm in no mood right now."
  23. Casey Mason

    IC: Casey - "Hear I Am"

    The hydrogen peroxide stung as she dabbed at the small puncture. She had to contort to see what she was doing the phone sat on the bathroom sink counter, she could still see the missed call from her cable company. probably letting her know that her bill was overdue...again. Her hear had settled down but her mind was still in a confused haze. She had been about to call Morn, a little shiver ran through her at the thought of what happened to him, that hadn't really happened.Then she had this hallucination? But if it was a hallucination, where did the nail come from. She finish bandaging the wound and put her shirt back on, splashed some water on her face and looked at her reflection. What the hell is going on.. After drying her face she turned the water off picked up the phone and went back into the living room. Every shadow in the corner made her look twice. She poured a glass of wine and downed it in one long swallow then hit the call button on the phone. Morns number was still dialed in. It rang 5 times then went to voicemail. Casey's heart skipped a beat. When the Beep sounded she spoke with a strong voice. "Mr Mourn, Horatio. I would like to meet with you tonight back at the Coffee House. It's 7:30 now I'm leaving for there immediately. Please come as soon as possible. And be careful."
  24. Maya blinked. For what seemed like hours, the wheels of her mind simply rotated purposelessly, like an empty groove at the end of a record spinning listlessly on a turntable... if reality was the panic-stricken DJ, pounding desperately on the door of the locked sound booth labeled "Consciousness" in an effort to shift the needle and get the party moving again. Incapable of doing anything else, she just stared up at it- him?- in the dim glow of the aging emergency lights that stuttered and flickered sporadically along the walls. In those few, but seemingly interminable seconds, the parts of her brain that observed and processed information carried on, dispassionately making note of the smell of something sweet and syrupy- orange soda- commingled with what might have been oil, and the scents of leather and old paper that lingered, ever-present, in the air. They also created two warring factions, each side sending conflicting visual information up for interpretation: either the figure in front of her was an impossibility, with fangs, tusks, and massive horns, or it was an indigent with bizarre hair and lamentable oral hygiene. None of this mattered, of course, because none of the sensory information being meticulously gathered and processed was actually being interpreted as she stood there for the briefest of instants, for countless aeons, blind, deaf, and dumb to the world. And then, the needle shifted. The track changed, and the spinning disk once again caught up with the present moment. The discordant, raspy shriek of a scratched record was nearly audible as reality came suddenly and sharply into focus for the unfortunate young woman, followed by a discordant shriek that was audible. The sound of Maya's terrified scream echoed throughout both floors of the library, reverberating off the walls and empty hallways as it rose in both volume and pitch. Sheer terror mixed with a New Yorker's survival instinct propelled her forward, the massive tome sweeping upward as she swung both hands toward the figure's head. She didn't wait for the sensation of impact, but, wide-eyed, released the leather-bound compilation of maps to fly on its own as she turned, planted a foot and (still screaming) launched herself toward the desk. If I survive this, Lorraine is gonna have to start working the closing shift.
  25. Mel Grimson

    IC: Mel - 'Deb By Dawn'

    The haze lifted, Mel taking deep breaths. Deek hit the door another time and Mel growled out loudly: "Stop that pounding!" Another breath and back to the controlled voice he'd used when needing to communicate despite the pain of a serious wound. "Everything's under control, kid. Get back to your beholder." "Uh, ok Mr. G." Deek sounded a tad unsure, but the footsteps confirmed his desire not to pry into his scary neighbor more. Mel took more, shuddering deep breaths, before rising up to wash, clean and bandage those oozing wounds. He'd suffered far worse injuries before in the heat of battle. But what made everything feel so heavy to Mel now was that the real damage wasn't physical, it was his mental state that was really bleeding. He could and would try to find a shrink, but Veteran Affairs was more interested in its own bureaucracy than doing its job. Mel would not become some patient in a mental ward or someone wandering the streets. He couldn't.
  26. "Fan-tastic...," came a voice from the shadows, clearer now, a lot clearer. It sounded a lot like Danny DeVito, if Danny DeVito was from Jersey... which he was, so it sounded exactly like that. "She knows we're here now, y'big dummy." "Sorry," replied a slow, sullen voice saturated with innocence. "Whelp... nothing to be done now. C'mon. Let's go say hello... but, let me do the talking. At least she seems reasonable..." The library was suddenly very, very quiet. Maya turned this way and that, trying to locate movement in the darkness. She heard a pitter-patter of something moving swiftly, but unless she was about to be accosted by eleven year olds she doubted that was the real threat. Then the thumping sound of something's feet hitting the floor, like bigfoot running barefoot through the library. The sounds, the echoed and reverbed from shelf to shelf, wall to wall, hiding and obscuring the real location of the mysterious voices. Gripping her big book of bodily harm tightly she waited, creeping ever so slowly backwards, to the door, the desk... to the alarm. She bumped something, something that was not a desk, not a table. She knew the library like the back of her hand, and there was supposed to be nothing in her path... she turned slowly only to see a shirt and messy coveralls. Her head slowly rose upwards until she finally saw neck, then face in the dim moonlight. It was about six and a half feet tall, a big, happy smile, and massive tusks that rose from it's lower jaw, accented by a massive pair spiraling horns near it's pointed ears. It smiled wide at her. It's large tooth filled maw spread into something that resembled an 'overzealous, worst year book picture ever' grin. It raised it's hand, palm open and wiggled it's fingers emphatically. "Helloooo!" It said in the most menacingly jovial way her brain could comprehend.
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