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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. 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?"
  3. 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."
  4. "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."
  5. "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."
  6. "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."
  7. 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?"
  8. 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.”
  9. 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."
  10. 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."
  11. 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."
  12. "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."
  13. 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."
  14. 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.
  15. 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.
  16. "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.
  17. The chill that rippled down Maya's spine had claws. It was an alien, chitinous thing that sent icy pinpricks skittering across her skin in a frigid wave of dread, leaving her staring dry-mouthed and wide-eyed into the shadows between the rows of shelves. Someone was in the building with her. Someone was in the building with her, and they knew she was there. Unbidden, a flood of stories- murder mysteries, crime thrillers, and tabloid trash (because, hey, you've got to read something while standing in the checkout line at Fairway)- all came rushing to the forefront of her mind at once in a horrific deluge of bad endings. She could only imagine what Lorraine would say to the police when they woke her up in the morning, or what her mother would say to the vaguely sympathetic journalist during her interview on the 6 o'clock news. Swallowing hard, Maya realized that the voices had gone silent. Were they moving out there somewhere, creeping up from the darkness? ...Or, perhaps more frightening, were they simply watching, observing her before making their move? She shivered again, her blouse clinging to skin that, despite having been out of the rain for hours, was suddenly damp again with a thin film of cold sweat. Maybe she just couldn't hear them over the sound of the jackhammer currently threatening to burst through her ribs. With trembling hands, her fingers all but numb with fear, the assistant librarian at Yorkville Public Library slowly, deliberately pulled a copy of the tall, rather weighty Atlas Of The World from the nearby reference shelf. If they rushed her... If they rushed her, she decided, struggling to stay calm instead of succumbing to the urge to scream hysterically, she might be able to use the cart to slow them down, and if not, Oxford Press knew how to make some seriously hefty books of maps. Cautiously, carefully, and as quietly as possible in the event she wasn't actively being observed, Maya crept step by agonized step toward the relative safety of the desk. Her phone, her keys, and the alarm button were all there, tantalizingly within reach, and beyond that, the glass door to the foyer...
  18. As a point to note: unless I specifically state your PC is injured in some way (in a spoiler with an effect written in), it's safe to assume that anything I do to mangle or abuse your PCs is strictly for story purposes and shouldn't handicap your character in any way, so don't sweat the small stuff. The Devil is in the details, I get it, so a character has been hurt, it'll look like this: This goes especially for combat situations. I describe combat as quick and gritty and brutal. You and your opposition are not just standing there, waving swords and throwing punches to the order of initiative. You are moving about, rolling around on the ground, grappling and pushing, picking up things to swing at random... it's chaos, so I type it up like it's chaos. I say that to say this: if I have something happen to you during combat, tackled to the ground, for example, unless I specifically say that being tackled has hampered your character in some way, just roll with it and carry on he combat as if you're on the ground punching a dude in the face, or whatever. But if you see this: Then you know its actually negatively affected you.
  19. Horatio was on her heels. 'Holding it at bay' really didn't seem like an option. While certainly not built like a coward, Casey was pretty sure him turning tail and running with her was not going to be a blemish on his 'I met this hot guy the other day' record, if she lived to tell her friends about this. Confident she wasn't leaving him behind, they began their exit from the apartment. The roiling darkness didn't seem to to quick on it's... roiling, so Casey began hauling ass down the fire escape. Mourne hit the window and reached for the fire escape railing, when his chest exploded. His shirt thrust forward and tapered to a point. Blood spewed from his mouth as his shirt ripped and a blackened tentacle, stiffened to a jagged point, plunging itself even further through his body, raising him into the air. "Ru-" he gurgled. Phantom hands and tentacles gripped the window pane, but instead of pulling it towards the window, the entire side of the building, brick and mortar, simply was pulled inward. Dust and debris collapsed down upon her head as the rumbling of the collapse shattered and smashed into the iron bars and railings of the fire escape. Were it no for the zig-zagging decent of her fire escape, she knew she would have been dead. She couldn't help but scream and curse a few times as everything crashed down on top of her, but she didn't stop moving. It was the creaking that gave her pause, she looked up to see the... whatever, wafting around the massive hole it'd left in her apartment building... it was now the entire size of where it had pulled the wall down, like it conformed and swallowed all life wherever it went. The bolts of the escape, from the constant barrage of debris, were loosened and she cursed every word she knew as the fire escape unlatched itself and fell sideways towards the opposite building. It tilted and fell and the impact against the neighboring structure shook her loose from her both her grip and footing and she plummeted down to the alley below. Her life was over. In that span of a few moments that was all she considered. The blackened mass was the last thing she saw it pulled Horatio into its 'body' and phantasmal hands all turned inward to rip him to pieces. The stack of pallets she landed on didn't break her fall so much as her neck, and back. Wood crunched and and bone and sinew tore and snapped as she lay on her back in the wet alleyway, her feet still poised up on the pallets. "Maaasssooonnn." The darkness cried out for her. Casey opened her eyes. She was lying on her back in her living room, her feet poised up on the sofa as her phone blared that annoying ringer that was set as the default. Frantically, fear still gripping her every thought she looked around... all was as it should be. Just a dream. She reached for her phone in an attempt to catch it before voice mail, when a sharp pain seared into her side and back. With a cry of pain she reached for her injury. Blood, and something hard... cold. With a wince of pain she removed the object stuck in her back with a gory squishing sound. A jagged, bent nail... like the kind used for pallets.
  20. "Nothing, Mel." She said solemnly. "It's coming." There was another crash of thunder and the ground rumbled and shook. It was less of an earthquake and more like a tremor of something heavy hitting the earth. Cecilia looked back behind her, panic painted itself upon the canvas of her translucent, yet beautiful face. Another tremor shook the ground upon which they were standing. The blades of blackened grass swayed on the breeze as it picked up into a wind. "I've been gone to long," she screamed over the howling of the wind. Her grown blew all over the place in a chaos given symphony by her loveliness. "There are others like you! Spine and stone, Mel! Spine and stone!" The earth exploded into blackened and grey dust and dirt. He could smell the scent of freshly turned earth as chains erupted from the soil. Despite her incorporeal state the thin, almost stylish, iron chains wrapped around her wrists, her waist, ankles and finally throat. Mel attempted to move, but couldn't. It was all too weird, and his mind having such a had time keeping up with what was live and what was Memorex. He reached for her, lunged but everything slowed to to a crawl like his world dissolved into an action movie sequence. She smiled at him, resigned to her fate. "I'll be waiting for you in Death's halls, My Love." Where his world had slowed to a crawl, her sped up to impossibly fast. Her words were clear, he could see the expression of woe painted on her face. And she was gone. Tore away from him at light speed while he was powerless to act. She streaked backward and was pulled into the torn soil which promptly sealed itself. His moments caught up with him and Mel ran full tilt to the spot where she was pulled into the ground. The wind howled as lightning crashed and slammed into the side of the tower as Mel tore into the earth, digging, scratching, clawing his way into the soil until his fingers bled. She would not be taken from him again! Frantic breaths and heaving in his chest were nothing as sweat poured into his eyes, the salt hazing his vision. He wiped it away and continued claw, tearing, churning into the soil... The soil... The soil... The living room rug... The hardwood floor... "Mr. G!" Came a shout from beyond his door. "Yo, Mr. G!? It's Deek the Geek, bruh. You okay!? You get a dog or something?" The throw rug was worn clean through, a large hole shredded into it to expose massive scratches soaked with blood on the floor. Three of his finger nails were lying in their own grisly puddles of blood, having been torn off completely by his 'digging'. "Yo, Mr. G... you okay?" His neighbor pounded on his door a few times.
  21. Mel Grimson

    IC: Mel - 'Deb By Dawn'

    This wasn't the Section 8 crackup that he expected. This was something like some fantasy story. Then again, Mel hadn't read many of those. Cecilia certainly never wore any big Cinderella type gowns like she did now. "Danger, from who or what?" Letting go though, was something he found inexplicable. Perhaps it was some part of his mind pointing it out for health's sake, but there was no balance. That was the whole point, his life was unbalanced utterly and as that Deb had said, the world he'd known didn't make sense any more. Even if Mel got over the melancholy, the depression, his job experience amounted to killing people for his country, and that harsh intensity inside wouldn't accept pushing a mop around. It actually made the absurd possibility that this was all real, and that he was in danger more preferable... downright palatable.
  22. Casey Mason

    IC: Casey - "Hear I Am"

    Insane panic gripped casey's heart and mind then suddenly a veil of clarity fell. Fight or flight kicked in. She stumbled back and grabbed one of the kitchen stools from the breakfast bar, spun and hurled it at the window filling the living room wall. The stool slammed through the cheap curtains and glass shattered and she started running toward it "Horatio! The fire escape!" She called out She reached the window, pulled the curtains ripping them from the rods and glanced back to see if Horatio was coming. Her blood froze again as she heard the moan from the dark the moan that sounded like her name.
  23. "Oooo, I like vacatio-." Came an obvious reply echoing from all sides in the great hall of the library. "Shhh!" Was the not so subtle reply that echoed in tandem with its counterpart. "Bu-" "Shhh!" "How-" "Zip it!" "Why, if-" "Ugh, you're giving me ulcers." Creeping beyond the shadows of long forgotten lore and spines filled with the imaginations and dreams of generations past, beyond the trickles of moonlight that faintly danced with the motes of dust that partook in their own aerial gala each and every evening, and beyond the hushed memories and or under the tall shelves of 'anything is possible' Maya Flynn was not alone.
  24. Cecilia embraced her husband, her hands cupped his cheeks as he impassionedly kissed her. Despite the warmth and joy that was elevating Mel, he quickly realized her hands were not warm. They weren't cold, they just weren't... they just weren't... feeling? If sorrow had a texture, her touch was it. "I'm glad to see you too, Mel." She took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen. They crossed the threshold from the living room to the kitchen and Mel's world dissolved. They were no longer in his old kitchen, or his new apartment. What lay before him was a field of blackest grass. The wind, though soft and more of a breeze, still faintly howled, playing an ominous chord as it passed listlessly across and in between the pitch blades. The sky was grey, with nothing but massive, overcast clouds billowing by so fast it felt like he was watching a documentary on storms and was watching them fast forward a front. He realized he was the only thing that had any color. It was cold, but he didn't feel uncomfortable. In the distance, as far off as he could guess, was a single structure that seemed to rise up from the infinite, all directional field of grass he was standing in: a massive tower. It was massive in comparison to the distance away that he way. By his estimate, were he standing in front of it, given how large it was at this distance... its base was probably the size of... Texas? Alaska, maybe? I was nothing more than a towering structure of bone aimed straight at the heavens. Storm clouds gathered at the spire, or maybe they were obscuring the spire? It was so hard to tell. Bolts of white lightning struck the side and the rumbles of thunder echoed throughout the land. "We don't have much time, my love," Mel's attention was suddenly pulled back into the moment. He looked upon his wife, who was now nothing more than a bluish-white apparition. He could see through her, and the clothes she'd been wearing she'd traded for a billowing diaphanous gown that seemed to be being carried off by the gentle breeze. "I don't have much time. Mel, you have to let me go... things are happening. The balance has shifted. You're in danger." A massive boom of thunder roared on the horizon.
  25. Mourne pursed his lips, grunting in frustration at how difficult Casey was being. He couldn't have expected anything less though, he didn't have time to explain anything and she probably wouldn't believe him if he did. "Casey! We don't have ti-" He reached for her once more and she replied with another couple of kicks to keep him at bay. Plumes of pitch black smoke (steam, mist?) began to creep silently across the threshold in eerie plumes. Mourne ceased his assault and turned to face the doorway that, to his knowledge, was their only form of egress. Instincts in the deepest, most primal portions of their minds told them to back away slowly... and they did. The hallway now was nothing more than pitch black as the vapors of pitch continued to rile their way through her doorway. They seemed to solidify into hands, claws, or tentacles that gripped the jamb and seemed to pull the roiling mass of nothing long it's intended course. Casey looked on in horror, mingled with a metric fuck ton of confusion. The mist crept in further, black and roiling, sucking the color from everything as it moved. Everything it 'touched' grew grey and brittle. Her walls cracked like brittle, dried, desert mud. It sounded like a churning stomach as it pulled its impossible-to-guess mass through the door way. Churning, bubbling, growling, all coming from what was essentially nothing. It had no form, no mass, it was just... darkness and nothingness. "Maaaassssoooonnn." It gurgled out in a deep, tone. Mourne backed up, holding out his arms as if he was some sort of shield against this... thing. "Casey, you need to run," he turned his head and his long, mangled hair whipped about. "Now!"
  26. Maya froze, fingertips still resting on the spine of some obnoxious romance novel with an annoyingly handsome, shirtless man standing next to a wolf on the cover. The library was quiet, save for the muted sound of the radio at the circulation desk. She waited for a few moments, motionless, straining to hear... what? Nothing. Silence. Unless a patron had stayed behind after closing, there was no one in the building except her, and she'd done the requisite sweep of the bathrooms, study areas, and stacks, both upstairs and down. No matter what kind of messed-up day she'd had, and would be talking about in therapy for the next couple of weeks, it was over. She relaxed, shaking her head at her own over-reaction, and exhaled in a quiet laugh as she pushed the empty cart back toward the desk. “Girl,” she told herself, “you have got to take a vacation.”
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