Talon

[color=teal]It's been bloody forever, OB, hasn't it? I've missed this place...been a member for eight years, and gone almost four. I've been all over the web...written fanfiction, played Battle.Net, got my rear handed to me on Battle.Net, switched over to XBOX and PS2, and still got my rear handed to me. But now...I'm in my old RP haunt. And that makes me wonder...when other members aren't on OB, where are you? Do you play other online forum RPs? Do you play Battle.Net, as I'm sure 99.9 percent of the population of InternetLand do? I'm curious, and I want to know. For example, and yes, this is shameless plugging, I'm a member of Shards of Glass, a Dragonriders of Pern RP. [url=http://shardsofglass-rp.proboards.com/index.cgi][align=center][img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/simeonreese/SoG/ad1.png[/img][/url] [url=http://shardsofglass-rp.proboards.com/index.cgi][img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/simeonreese/SoG/ad2-2.gif[/img][/align][/url] So tell me...what do you like to do in your free time?[/color]

[color=teal]I'm looking for a simple banner resembling the Law & Order title cards. All black backgrounds, Friz Quadrata font, with the tagline 'Law & Order Blind Justice' in the same vein as Criminal Intent and SVU's title cards, though to fit the banner, I'd prefer if 'Law & Order' were on the left, and 'Blind Justice' were on the right. The title card of Criminal Intent is given as a guideline, if it helps.[/color] [URL="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/1/14/CIopening.jpg"]Title Card.[/URL] [color=teal]I appreciate the effort and time taken. -Talon.[/color]

[color=crimson][b][u][center][size=2]Chapter One: To Stone the Heroes....[/center][/size][/b][/u] [pindent=2][i]Manjusra was asleep when the plane touched down in New Orleans. He'd tried to hold in his laughter when she saw that the pilot was wearing Army greens, and failed miserably when she saw that their ride was a C-130 transport. He had to take his car with him, after all. It was a very pleasant ride, by Chase's standards, and he'd slept through most of it.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He checked Hunter-Net's list on safehouses in the area and saw one near the French Quarter that had seen little reported use lately. He nodded and put out a notice that he'd been opening that safehouse soon, pleased to see that it was one of the 'old-money' Hunter's manses. It would make things easier if some of the Hunters congregated in one place to coordinate their actions.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He unbuckled and lifted the sleeping Manji in his arms as he headed into the hold, setting her quietly in the car, as the plane's activity wound down. The pilot opened the bay doors and released the hooks keeping the car in place. With a wave, Johnathan grinned evilly and gunned the car in reverse, backing down the ramp quickly and spinning to face a nearby gravel road. He looked up and checked a nearby signpost.[/pindent][pindent=2]"H-uh. I didn't know Camp Villere had an airstrip...."[/pindent] [pindent=2]Checking his GPS, he tore out of the military training 'facility' onto the interstate that would carry him to old New Orleans. He, of course, didn't realize that the facility hadn't had an airstrip at all, but Beartalker was good like that.[/color][/pindent]

[color=crimson][i][pindent=2]He felt like shit. He could admit it out loud, if anyone were around to hear it, but then, he was still feeling like he'd gone one-on-two with Mike Tyson and Muhammad Ali with the gloves off. He shook his head, trying to clear some of the delirium-induced memories as he showered with the garden hose Manjusra kept in her basement. He was still too out of it to realize -why- she kept said gardening hose attached to a water source in her -basement-, but then, since his brain was continuing a rendition of an Army jody, he could probably be forgiven.[/pindent][pindent=2][/i]"C-130 rollin' down the strip, Airborne daddy gonna take a little trip. Mission unspoken, destination unknown. Don't even know if he's ever goin' home."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]He toweled off with a nearby towel, climbing the stairs without even bothering to throw on his tattered jeans or shredded coat. They wouldn't cover anything important anyway. He stopped mid-step on one of the stairs and leaned against the wall, catching his breath as he scanned the now-visible kitchen for his cellphone.[/pindent][pindent=2][/i]"Me and Superman got in a fight. I hit him in the head with some kryptonite. Hit him so hard I busted his brain, and now I'm datin' Lois Lane."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]He found the device, along with his side-arms and holsters, and flushed. He'd actually been out enough to drive with those things strapped on? He was lucky he hadn't gotten caught! He checked his cellphone, finding a single text message, and he opened it. Paling upon reading the missive, he immediately dialed up Beartalker.[/pindent][pindent=2][/i]"Yes, Johnathan, I -did- get the surprise you set me up for. Yes, it was pleasant. Yes, it was better than my birthday two years ago. Shut the hell up and listen. I need a ride to New Orleans. I don't -give- a damn about the paperwork. Do you -want- me to show your wife Manji's porn collection? Good. I'll be at the airport at...what time is it? Three thirty? Damn. I'll be at the airbase for seven tonight. You want me to take her? She's good to fly? Fine. I'll see if she'll come."[/pindent][i] [pindent=2]He looked up to see Manjusra leaning against the door of her kitchen, gazing at him intently, and he returned the intent gaze. He cracked his neck slowly and walked up to her, taking the cell phone from her hand and putting it down with his upon the kitchen counter. He lifted her up into a deep, desperate kiss, and carried her upstairs. He had three hours to get ready; why waste any time?[/color][/i][/pindent]

[color=crimson]The e-mail isn't just a plot device, it's a test of your characters' resolve. You're Hunters, sworn to prevent the spreading of the Darkness. You've been fighting creatures out of your own nightmares for -years- in most cases, and you're part of a network that exchanges information in the hopes of making the Hunt a little easier, making the freaks a little less mysterious. Suddenly, somebody pops up with that e-mail. They hint that they've been watching you, and they know your identities. Your network has been compromised. But for how long has it been compromised? Could someone, one of those Hunter-Net handles, be a freak? Could they have been watching you, or worse, feeding you false information about their weaknesses and strengths? Under those circumstances...can you honestly afford -not- to check Rue Decatur in New Orleans? Can you live with the knowledge that your absence might damn -all- Hunters, and thus Humanity, to the freaks just because you got a little skittish, or a little skeptical? You fight freakin' -zombies- for damn's sake. There ain't much you shouldn't believe in, now![/color]

[color=crimson][i][pindent=2]The Ghast leaped them, turning and slamming its one meaty paw into Chase's chest, sending the Hunter flying into the side of a nearby Dumpster. It let out its bestial roar and prepared to charge Jackson, but sniffed the air and -grinned-. It turned and pointed at Chase, only Chase, before it turned and, with one bound, climbed the side of a nearby building, leaping from rooftop to rooftop towards the south.[/pindent] [pindent=2]Chase breathed hollowly as he used the lid of the Dumpster to pull himself to his feet, his eyes locked on his fellow Hunter as he slumped over. He tried to heal himself, resting his palm over his heart, but found the energy wouldn't come. The last attempt to heal himself was barely able to continue. His willpower was drained. He waved off the other Hunter's attempt to catch his attention as he stumbled into the alley where his car was stashed. He didn't need help driving; he knew where he needed to be. His eyes wandered over his left arm as he grit his teeth and spit blood yet again, starting the car without even bothering to hide the weapons in the cache, simply stopping to throw them under the tarp. He hoped nobody would pull him over. Not in his condition. He drove off, waving weakly to the other Hunter, sketching a quick 'Healing' glyph in the air. He hoped the other Hunter got the message.[/pindent][/color][/i] [center]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center] [i][color=gray][pindent=2]His eyes searched the documents in his hand before he threw them across the desk. He leaned back and smirked, studying the ceiling for a full five minutes before he stood and bathed in the sunlight his window-wall provided him. He smirked quite broadly, enjoying the feeling of superiority for a moment, before a frown crossed his face.[/pindent] [pindent=2]There, thumping across the rooftops, heading right for his building, was his Ghast. It was missing an arm; the frown turned into a scowl. He hoped the creature had not slain his targets. It was meant only as a warning, and a message to galvanize them into being the reckless bunch of fanatics he knew them to be. If it lost an arm, that meant they were either stronger than he'd estimated, an impossiblity, or his creature had stayed in the fight too long. He would have to reprimand the Ghast -personally- for its failure to listen to its given orders. He turned and pressed his intercom.[/pindent][pindent=2][/i]"Mrs. Gray, please clear my schedule for the next two months, and send the injured man in the lobby to my office. Also, could you please be a dear and arrange a flight for me to New Orleans? That is all, Mrs. Gray."[/pindent][i] [pindent=2]He turned and cracked his neck audibly as he studied the view before him once again, a broad smirk spreading on his face as he hit the 'send' button on the email to the last Hunter in what he was now referring to as 'his most dangerous game'. With that, even as he heard the elevator to his personal office starting up, he pressed his forehead to the window and dropped the fly of his slacks, reaching in to caress himself. The power, the strength he had to move his pawns as he wished, was sooo intoxicating.[/color][/pindent][/i]

[color=teal]I was talking about Raven killing the 'savior of us all', actually. Remember? He no likey the legend of the Hero. Period. Why would he wanna kill someone he's trudging to all the seedy apothecaries and mage schools in the country looking for a way to help sh/im?[/color]

[color=teal]It seems likely that Raven would be placed on this assignment, but I'll leave that up to Shy's discretion in this case. Hell, Raven would probably sooner kill the one in the Woods as string him up before a court of his 'peers'. That's just him, though. Hehe.[/color]

[color=crimson][i][pindent=2]He groaned from his position on the floor, shaking his head very, very slowly. His gaze flickered around and he realized he was no longer in the stairwell; he was instead in what remained of the fourth floor. There were no walls that could be considered barriers any longer, and even a support beam or two were creaking woefully at their load. Chase stood, the telltale sounds of fighting carrying to his ears, and he banished all pain, pushed it down firmly to a recess in the back of his mind, and ran to join in.[/pindent] [pindent=2]What he saw surprised him to no end; another Hunter, one he didn't know, was busy whacking and shooting at a Ghast with a brilliantly-burning All-Seeing Eye blazed across its face. It couldn't seem to heal the damage the brand was causing, which gave Chase an idea. He summoned his tomahawk, rushing in, ignoring the shriek of pain his ribs and head protested with. He couldn't give in to his pain; he needed to fight to save whoever this thing was after. He leapt upon the Ghast's back with a guttural shout to whoever the other Hunter was; he ripped into the meaty hunch on the Ghast's back, hacking away and bucking on it like a rodeo clown. For a wild minute, he thought he was killing the thing before, with an audible crunch of bone-on-bone, the Ghast's shoulder dislocated, its arm twisted, and grabbed Chase violently, hurling him into Jackson without any visible effort.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He was getting desperate. This Ghast needed to go down, and even though his body hurt, he had to keep going. Resting his hand upon his heart, he whispered his activation and felt some relief flood his wounds. It wasn't enough to mend the breaks he knew he had, and for some reason the slashes on his back weren't healing, but it was enough to keep him in the fight. He stood and stared at the Ghast, raising his hand and gesturing roughly, sparking that shoulder into white flame; the Ghast's weakest link fell off, leaving a twitching, rapidly shriveling arm spewing blood and black mist all over the pavement as the creature roared in pain and began running towards the two fallen Hunters. Chase kept his eyes upon it.[/pindent][pindent=2][/i]"Cast in the name of God, let he who is innocent throw the first stone to draw the blood of the Guilty!"[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]The creature's forward motion immediately ceased and, save for the shifting of its weight from foot to foot, its body remained extremely motionless. Chase felt an incredible burden pressing down on him; the strain placed on his body for this Edge was always proportional to the strength of the freak in question. Refusing to take his eyes off of the beast, even as his ribs gave out and a trickle of blood that was hastily stymied by the healing Edge began to leak from the corner of his lips.[/pindent][pindent=2][/i]"Hey, buddy! Give this thing what for, will ya?"[/color][/pindent]

[color=gray][center][IMG]http://i74.photobucket.com/albums/i275/AgriasNesme/Raven-1.jpg[/IMG][/center] [i][pindent=2]He wiped his hands of the matter regarding the rape attempt quite quickly after his return to the castle. A short visit to the dungeons, a brief chat with the orderly on duty, and the promise of an interrogation in the morning left Raven feeling quite fulfilled, even if his extracurricular activity had been, for the night, a wash. He looked back into the cell block and smirked, writing down an assignment in the duty roster for a moment before affixing his signature. He knew it rankled Valen, the old goat, that he had a commanding officer of only twenty-two summers, but life was unfair, and he knew it was more than likely to be attributed to Valen's views on society's favoring of the Hylian people. This was just his way of assuring Valen that Raven, at least, was a fair person.[/pindent] [pindent=2]Then again, Valen was one of the few people in the Guard that knew of Raven's mental state at all times. He knew Raven was a fair person, but beyond that, he knew the true reasons behind Raven's passionate hatred of the Legend of the Hero in general, and the Hero in specific. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to reign in his anger, his hand clenching in a claw-like gesture before he sensed the presence of another nearing his position.[/pindent] [pindent=2][/i]"You shouldn't hold it against him."[/pindent] [i][pindent=2]He turned, without reply, to study the blue-suited figure before him. He did not kneel, as he knew she was still maintaining her guise, but he did incline his head respectfully. Never let it be said that Raven did not respect his betters.[/pindent] [pindent=2][/i]"Your aunt is worried for you, Ser Raven. And I do not mean that she worries because you are the last of your blood and clan."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]His eyes hardened, and the inclination of his head became a little stiff, signs quite invisible to the naked eyes of an untrained observer, but to those who bore the hallmarks of the training that these two had, these signs were as obvious as the monumental ruins dotting Lake Hylia's surface. He raised his amber gaze, studying the emblem emblazoned across the white tabard draped across the blue of the body-suit, the self-same emblem that marked his right shoulder as the last son of the Sol-Harkinian line. He offered no reply.[/pindent] [pindent=2][/i]"Ser Raven...your aunt intends to request you continue your training beyond the limits of the sword. I would see you under her wing again."[/pindent] [pindent=2]"Is that an order, 'Shiek'?"[/pindent][/color]

[quote name='DeLarge'][SIZE=1]Just wondering, are there any supernatural beasties out there that don't mind helping us out? Or are they all out for our blood? Also, did we ever decide on a definite location for our characters (mine, Raiha's, Engel's, Talon's and anyone else I may have forgotten who is supposed to be in the same area)? Because we've got to get to New Orleans, which is a long way from Maine, if that's where we're supposed to be. I'm guessing a plane trip or something is in order? [/SIZE][/QUOTE] [color=teal]Yes, there -are- 'beasties' that are inherently benevolent and wish to help the Hunters. The problem with that is, sometimes the Hunter they want to talk to is soooooooomewhat trigger-happy. And the crawler infestation and the Ghast issue right now is occuring in Maine. Plane travel is to be arranged.[/color]

[color=crimson][pindent=2][i]Chase shut the rear door of his car, shaking his head softly, a small smile sneaking into his expression as he turned and looked back at Manjusra's door. He cracked his neck and shook his head; she had been quite insistent upon his breakfast, and after a rather enjoyable repast of cream of wheat, honey, and good old fermented grains, he was feeling rather invincible. That could possibly attributed to the pleasant activities that almost immediately followed breakfast, in which he had, this time, been a more than active participant. It had been with great regret, in fact, that he left her apartment following the completion of his laundry's run in her dryer.[/pindent] [pindent=2]She was asleep now, he assumed, but she had shared with him the location at which she'd spied the Ghast, and he was just wrapping up his pre-Hunt reload and restock. He would have to make a stop at one of the safehouses he and Beartalker had up here to restock his car-cache in a week or so, but for now, he was preparing for something much more immediate. He sighed as he climbed in the car and drove off, looking back at Manjusra's apartment one last time. Had the sun not risen just enough to cause a glare, he could be forgiven for believing he saw a pale figure looking down at him from the shaded safety of her balcony. Shaking the wishful thought from his head, he put the car into gear and drove off.[/pindent] ~~~~~~~~~~~~ [pindent=2]He strode calmly into the abandoned, broken hallway, shaking his head quietly. He had tracked the beast here, with no little difficulty, to a run-down hotel slated for demolition. At first, he wondered why he felt no shudder, none of the crush of the undead he usually had in environments like this that were....inhabited by the living-impaired. Then he realized why as he ascended to the second floor landing in the stairwell; something had brutally and efficiently slain what might have, at one time, been a rot. There were traces of that black mist in the area of the smeared corpse, but it was quite dead. Chase checked his 1911 and holstered it, drawing instead his Desert Eagle .50 caliber. It looked like he'd need a bigger punch.[/pindent] [pindent=2]As he climbed higher, a long, tracking stain of semi-fresh blood trailing up to the fifth and final floor of the building, he felt a growing sense of foreboding, a painful buzzing in his skull he'd felt only twice before in his life. Before his eyes, a message written in blood reading 'Help me!' became a message written in glowing blood, reading 'HIS EYE IS UPON YOU'. He fell to his knees as the painful sensation faded and he shook his head, looking around slowly, then at the ceiling above him. There was nothing there. Perhaps the Messengers were wrong, though they never had been before.[/pindent] [pindent=2]Perhaps his mind was still fogged with afterglow, or perhaps he was growing complacent in his proven ability to handle the freaks he faced on a nightly basis. Perhaps he was just tired, or it may have been a combination of factors. Whatever the reason, his search of the area around him failed to include one obvious location; underneath him. With a great roar, the creature landed immediately behind him and slammed him into the wall. It was only with great force of will that Chase managed to keep hold of his weapon as the Ghast, having leapt five stories up from the basement level, stepped back to repeat his charge. Chase rolled out of the way, watching concrete chips pepper the landing as the hunched thing in front of him turned to face him. The beast roared with a bestial fervor that somehow seemed human at the same time; Chase just cocked back and decked it, activating his collar-bound radio with his free hand.[/pindent][/i][pindent=2]"Hey, Sword; this is Shield. Put out a notice to everyone you-WHOA!- can! I need help, five buildings down and two south from the crawler-stay DOWN, damnit!-infestation last night! Over!"[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]Having completed his call for help, he threw all of his attention on the fight; his inattentiveness had already cost him a festering slash to his lightly-armored back and the makings of a migraine, his head having made good friends with the concrete wall, courtesy of the unwelcome guest currently ignoring the bloody bullet holes in its shoulder, chest, and abdomen.[/i][/color][/pindent]

[color=crimson]Cue motive for everyone to begin flocking in the same general direction.....now. Chase won't get this message as he's 1) experiencing afterglow, 2) about to go try and kill himself a mean-ass Ghast, and 3) not likely to check his phone or mail until he's done with said Ghast. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [b]To:[/b]hunter.list@hunter-net.org [b]From:[/b]Sender unidentified. [b]Subj:[/b]Our game. [pindent=2]Hello, dear friends and cattle. You do not know me, but I have been watching you. To my great amusement, it seems you all believe you can make a difference in the grand scheme of things with your pretty little tricks, killing my followers and their friends. As entertaining as watching your endeavors has been, it is to my great regret that this game must end, and soon. We are expecting company of a far higher order, and things must be planned out perfectly. However, for one last amusement, a minor indulgence, if you will, coordinates have been sent out to a randomly selected few. These coordinates are to be kept secret; yes, I know your identities, every single one. If any of you 'Hunters' apart from those who have received my invitation arrive, the game is over, you all die. If you manage to defeat me at my own game, then only those who perish at play will find their existence ended. If not....then our guests will find themselves most comfortably situated, drinking with his followers from the skulls of every single hunter here. Perhaps we'll even scribe your skulls with your Net-handles. Come to me, Hunters. The game is just beginning.[/pindent] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yeah, just take a guess at who got an invitation. If you wish to check the email in-post, the 'coordinates' are 'Drexel House, 22 Rue Decatur, Vieux Carre, New Orleans'.[/color]

[color=crimson][b]To:[/b]hunter.list@hunter-net.org [b]From:[/b]Bookworm55 [b]Subj:[/b]The Hunt [pindent=2]Another day, and a strange one, it seems, my peers. I have awakened, and after several months of trying to live in a hospital environment after my informant severed my legs following her perceived betrayal, I awaken whole and healthier than you would believe. Why? I have no clue. Why me? My talents have never fallen under the healing side of our awakened nature. Perhaps the Messengers have seen fit to restore to me my ability to study these things, to give us a chance. And by all accounts, it seems necessary.[/pindent] [pindent=2]I'm sure many of you have encountered an increased resistance in your endeavors these past few weeks, judging by the amount of mail my inbox accrued since I last logged in. The question many of you are likely asking is 'Why?', or perhaps, 'Why now?'. I cannot tell you why, nor can I give an honest opinion. Why are new 'species' of these beings popping up, seemingly overnight? Why are more of the black-mist rots presenting themselves, why are shamblers evolving into walkers, walkers into hidden? I don't have the answers, and though I am in a position now to endeavor to retrieve them, that is another question I must ask. Yesterday evening, I went to sleep without my legs, as I have done in the months since that overzealous newly-imbued attempted to kill my vampire friend and I and was answered with lethal force and my disability. Why do I awaken this morning in an unmarked flat with a note from that informant and my legs intact? Why are these things happening? I can't tell you; I can only hope that, as was the point of this site in the first place, that you all share your information with one another, and with me, that we may at least ensure a tentative survival.[/color][/pindent]

[color=crimson][i][pindent=2]He couldn't think, couldn't do anything but return the attention reflexively. He was out of his element. Oh, certainly, he'd kissed before, and several times, at that, but this was far above and beyond simple kissing. For one thing, she was laying skin to skin against him beneath the covers of her oddly-ominous bed, and for another thing...well...that was pretty much the gist of it, actually. He gave another, shuddering gasp as he felt some internal alarm sound, and he broke the kiss to warn her only to have her fingertips silence his efforts. A sudden tightening, a low groan, and another kiss signified a temporary cessation to the Hunters' distractions that night.[/pindent] [pindent=2]It was early in the morning, the sky wasn't even lightening yet, when he padded outside to his car in nothing but his jeans. As he gazed at the sky, a slightly dazed, goofy look in his eyes, he seemed to have a far greater appreciation for the sounds of the birds waking up, the sight of the very slight slash of gray against the violet of the sky, that horrible smell...wait. He blinked and groaned, looking across the street and shaking his head, opening the back of the car and retrieving a fresh change of clothes from a briefcase hidden next to another cache of ordinance. He covered his nose as best he could, but there really wasn't anything one could do about the waste products of a veterinary office except, perhaps, close your windows.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He smiled to himself as he showered in Manjiusra's larger bathroom, ignorant of the sound of the door opening and footsteps entering in his musings. He closed his eyes softly, enjoying the feel of the cool spray on his skin as he realized the simple things, like a girl's attention, or the smell of a pet care center's waste from the night before, still affected him; he was still human.[/pindent][/i][pindent=2]"That Ghast....I need to look into that. Focus, Amadahy...."[/pindent][/color]

[color=gray][center][IMG]http://i74.photobucket.com/albums/i275/AgriasNesme/Raven-1.jpg[/IMG][/center] [i][pindent=2]He walked up to the apothecary without trepidation. The resounding knock upon the door summoned a set of footsteps, shuffling and hesitant. He pulled the cloak more firmly about his face as he heard the telltale grate of wood on wood; a square panel in the door slid open. He raised his right hand, a sheet of parchment clutched between his thumb and forefinger, and passed it to the gnarled hand that extended from the portal to the depths within. A gasp followed, and the sheet was hastily passed back out to him.[/i][/pindent] [pindent=2]"There are no potions or spells within my possession to repair such...damage."[/pindent] [pindent=2]"Then where may I go? You were the last recommendation."[/pindent] [pindent=2]"The tavern. Ask the old mother. If she has it not, it exists not."[/pindent] [i][pindent=2]He pocketed the parchment, nodded, and walked away, ignoring the loud grate of the panel's closing. The silence of his footsteps failed to reach even his own trained ears as he passed into a more traveled backstreet of the capital city, though at this hour there was only one group of people, a number of Hylian boys crowded around some amusement or other. He turned his back to the group before a low mewling reached his ears, a sound of fear and pain.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He turned, slowly, his eyes scanning the alley for the originator of the sound, only to catch a glimpse of crimson droplets on the ground behind one of the boys; a trail leading to the 'amusement'. With all of his considerable guile, he moved silently up behind the boys, removing his cloak and dropping it on top of a nearby stack of empty crates. He approached the boys, his amber eyes narrowing at the sight before him.[/pindent] [pindent=2]One of the boys had his leggings loosened at the waist as he ripped what little clothing was remaining on the body of a young girl, less then fifteen summers, by his estimation. His eyes narrowed further when he spied the girl's ears; pointed, but only slightly elongated. A halfling, most likely. He immediately rested his hand on the boy's shoulder, receiving a jump from the boys as a whole. A sneer met him from them all; he was without his cloak, after all, and wore no visible armaments. It did not help that he was not much older than they were.[/i][/pindent] [pindent=2]"Back off, moron, if you know what's good for you. We're teaching this little whore a lesson; leave, else you join her schooling!"[/pindent] [pindent=2=][i]He offered no answer save the very feline cant of his head; the set of his features betrayed no intention to do as they asked. The response was immediate; a fist flew in the direction of his gut, and was answered with a basic redirection. A pattern was soon established; a punch would be thrown and either dodged or redirected, never blocked. It lasted only a short time before the other three boys attempted to aid their friend in disposing of the interloper; the pattern remained unchanged until, at some unseen signal, the interloper answered in kind. In very short order, the four boys were all on the ground, favoring a broken arm each, save one, whose leg was dislocated.[/i][/pindent] [pindent=2]"W-who are you?!"[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]The answer was as silent as the twilight sky as the stranger lifted the sleeve of his left arm, baring the Phoenix emblem that marked all of the elite of the Royal Guard. The boys all paled, turned and attempted to run. He caught the straggler, unsurprisingly the boy with the broken leg. He turned to the young girl, looking with wide eyes at the obviously Hylian features of her savior. He reached over, ignoring the struggling boy in his grip, and grabbed the cloak from the crates, tossing it to the shivering girl before him.[/i][/pindent] [pindent=2]"Go home, stay safe. I'll have a summons for you in timely fashion, Miss Krystana."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]He took note of the leather pack at her feet, torn but serviceable, as she pulled on the cloak, specifically of the court of her home listed upon the square of the pack's face. He turned and dragged the Hylian boy in the direction of the palace, ignoring the girl's cries for her savior's name as he left.[/i][/pindent] [pindent=2]"Let us see what the Lady Impa has in store for you, boy, then I'm to my own business again."[/color][/pindent]

[color=crimson]New mandatory read post for RP mechanics. [b]Conviction:[/b] A Hunter's determination to follow their Creed, this is what allows them to act as true harbingers of The Reckoning. A Hunter's Conviction gives them the strength to activate their Edges, to fight, Defend, Redeem, Avenge, and See no matter the odds against them. However, Conviction is -not- an infinite resource; every Hunter's Conviction is depleted a bit when Edges are used, or when a Hunter acts against their Creed. For instance, a Defender must protect the innocent. If a Hunter fails in this duty by attacking a mortal, their Conviction is drained. However, while Conviction is not infinite, nor is it impossible to recover. A Hunter's Conviction is restored by fulfilling their Creed or with rest. In addition, Conviction also replenishes over time. If a Hunter loses all Conviction, they lose their ability to activate their Edges entirely, making them entirely mortal save their ability to see the freaks for what they are.[/color]

[color=crimson][i][pindent=2]Chase was damning Beartalker up and down as he lifted the teacup to his lips and took a long, slow sip, draining a quarter of the contents without so much as a flinch. He set the cup down and smiled hesitantly, awkwardly, as he studied the town house's occupant.[/i] "Thanks for the tea. A bit stronger than most would brew it, I think, but it doesn't disappoint."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]He set about the brief repast, raging yet again at Beartalker for putting him in this situation. Save a bundle on hotel rooms, sure. He refused to allow any of this to reach his face; after years of hiding his rage and depression from his eagle-eyed grandfather, he was quite skilled at schooling his face to reveal only what he wanted it to, and at the moment, that was appreciation for good tea.[/pindent] [pindent=2]Spying the pineapple cakes she'd managed to set out without him noticing, he allowed himself to take one and bite down. Gods, he'd missed sweets; a thing of a past long since removed, years before even Basic Training. He smiled pure, genuine appreciation for the repast to the woman before him and leaned back in his seat. [/i]"Excuse me, but is there a place I could sit and enjoy a cigarette and a beer?"[/pindent][pindent=2] "There's a balcony upstairs that you may use, Mister Amadahy, and your beer is in the fridge. I wanted them to keep cold while you washed up."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]He smiled again, brushing the loose braid at his temple behind his ear as he stood up and placed his empty teacup in the sink, rinsing it thoroughly before placing it in her dishwasher. He idly noted the spartan setup, and cracked his neck quietly as he turned to answer Manjusra.[/i][/pindent][pindent=2] "Thank you very much, Manji. And please, call me Chase or Wolf, if you wish."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]With that, he opened the fridge and broke a beer out of the cardboard pack, smiling as he grabbed the frosted glass from the table and walked out of the kitchen for the stairs. Hearing the fall of her footsteps behind him, he sighed inwardly and focused himself on getting out those balcony doors, ignoring the candid view of the neighboring bedroom as he stepped out into the chill October air. Feeling the coolness on his face and left forearm, he glanced down as he stepped out of the doorway and sat down in one of the padded mesh-metal lawn chairs that served as comfortable seating. Reaching for his open pack of cigarettes, he looked up at Manjusra as he smiled hesitantly before suddenly remembering his 'gift'.[/i][/pindent][pindent=2] "Oh, forgive me. I picked these up on the way from the Hive, Big Bear said you liked them."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]Placing the DVDs on the neighboring mesh-metal yard table, a tastefully-done square piece of furniture that fit well with the inner decor, he pulled out his Army Zippo and lit his cigarette, taking a deep puff and inhaling the smoke, immediately beginning to relax before turning to Manji, blinking as she got an eyeful of the DVDs and squealed in apparent joy.[/i][/pindent][pindent=2] "Um....would you care for a cigarette?"[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]Oh, yes. He'd kill Beartalker for this, for -damn- sure.[/i][/color][/pindent]

[color=crimson]No, no, go ahead and mention the black goo all you like, Darren. To answer your question, Raiha, Hunters have -no- means to provide an area with protection from freaks whatsoever barring the Hunters in question living in that area. The Messengers have a set of symbols called 'Glyphs' that have powers like that into areas, but Hunters cannot direct the Messengers to do a damn thing, and besides, only Hunters can see the Glyphs. Some Glyphs, like 'Safety' and 'Restoration' are permanent, providing safe-zones for the Hunters and a rest area to recuperate from a hunt. Others, like 'Success' and 'Infested' are temporary or require the fulfillment of certain criteria before they appear, like a certain number of freaks congregating within a certain area. Note that all Glyphs are a collection of dots connected by straight lines with no breaks at all. Some of the dots do have a hole in the center; I'm trying to find a list of them online, but it's incredibly hard to do so since WW ended the campaign setting years ago. In any case, Hunters can recreate the Glyphs, but they don't have any power to them; they're just used to convey a message to other Hunters.[/color]

[color=crimson][i][pindent=2]He sighed grimly as he surveyed the destruction around him. He was surrounded by a large number of Crawler corpses, all of them burned badly by the guttering blaze in his left hand. He counted the dead in this chamber of the newly created basement for the abandoned building above him; twenty-two. Adding the seventeen in the last chamber, and the one he'd killed before he jumped down, that left eleven. Ten 'royal guards' for Her Majesty, the Mother.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He took stock of his munitions. He had two rolls of Long Colt ammo, three clips left for the .50 caliber currently slung under his arm. He checked his Colts and emptied the chambers, taking care to pocket the spent casings. After reloading, he stepped over towards one corner of this room and placed his third brick of C4, setting the detonator to activate upon his signal. Satisfied with his work, he checked the M-4 and sighed. Thirty rounds remaining. He banished the blazing tomahawk in his hand and took up his last remaining WP grenade, pulling the pin and releasing the safety. With a count of two, he hurled it into the makeshift door that led into the Mother's chamber.[/pindent] [pindent=2]The grim smirk grew on his features once more as the sounds of infighting reached his ears and he holstered the magnum, taking up his M-4 and rushing in, blasting at what little remained for him to shoot. Emptying the chamber, adding to the chaos of white phosphorus-induced rage, he dropped every single one of the 'royal guard'. Now, to the mother.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He closed his eyes to shake off the effects of his own grenade, ignoring the neon-colored blobs that decorated the back of hiis eyelids as best he could while he focused his hearing. He turned quickly, the skittering of a dozen and a half elongated, multi-jointed claws pressing in on him from behind. He drew a combat knife, wincing as he was thrown forcefully from his feet. He opened his bleary eyes and growled, only to have the bitch answer in kind with a screech. He tasted copper, spit to his left. The 'plap' of the gooey projectile resounded in the echo of the chamber, and he was surprised to see her jerk her, he guessed it was her head, towards the sound.[/pindent] [pindent=2]She was blind. She'd clawed her own eyes out, and his narrowed. They were getting smarter. The superficial burns along her thorax told him his grenade had detonated close to her, but the bitch was -huge-. It was minimal damage compared to her body size; she was bigger than he was. He used her temporary study of his blood and saliva to his advantage, body checking her and slashing under her thorax with his knife only to find his left hand well within the reach of her jaws. He grimaced as he felt the pressure of the initial bite, groaned when he felt stingers slam through his skin, and screamed when he felt the bones give and powder under the crush of her bite. He yanked back as hard as he could, flaying leather, cloth, and skin from his left forearm, dropping the knife as he summoned the tomahawk in his right hand.[/pindent] [pindent=2]The bug screamed, releasing what was left of his arm as she felt the searing heat of the primitive, flaming axe pierce the left side of her head. She flailed back as she felt a second slam to the same place, bit at his leg and twisted her jaws. A muffled groan and a loud snap signaled the give of his ankle, but it was too late. He let his body weight slam against her as he pummelled and pummelled her with the axe before falling to the ground, breathing hard as he raised his right hand and pointed at her head, willing it to explode in flame. His willpower guttered; he let the shield surrounding the building fall to restore it. His gamble paid off; the queen screeched as her body burned with white fire from within, and she fell, dead. He rested his hand over his heart as he felt his body begin to burn from the stingers still embedded in his shredded arm.[/i] "Not yet...."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]He didn't have the willpower to heal everything on his body, but the violent burning sensation in his arm faded as he felt his bones realign, repair themselves. The skin, though, remained mostly shredded. He climbed to his feet and settled his weight gingerly on his right ankle, groaning. It was a bad sprain, no longer a break. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling of the chamber, smiling quietly to himself as a familiar Glyph made itself evident. The combination of squiggles and lines meant 'Success', as far as he could tell. The Messengers only ever sent it when a Hunter had finished a True Hunt, as he called it; the destruction of a Hive of ten or more freaks. He didn't know what the Glyphs really were, but he did know that no Hunter could create them. They could replicate them, certainly, but they never held power unless sent by the Messengers.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He turned and set his last brick of C4 on the side of the chamber wall, picking up the spent WP grenade and making his way back to the entry. He looked up to the hole and sighed, climbing up the mound of loosened soil that would allow his exit. He made his way up and out, pulling out a stick of chalk and scribing the Glyph he'd seen on the front of the nearby parking garage as he climbed weakly into his car. He turned on his phone and dialed a number into the keypad as he pulled out and drove off. As he pressed the 'Send' button, he was treated to the satisfying sound of the building's foundations caving in, dropping the entire structure into the ground.[/pindent] [pindent=2]It was with great satisfaction that he pulled into the late-night convenience store and climbed out. He'd filled up earlier, so he didn't pay any attention to the pumps as he walked in. Going right for the coolers, he grabbed a six-pack of Red Wolf and headed for the counter.[/i]"Hey, man. A carton of Doral Menth 100's, and those two DVDs over there. No, Bondage Babes and Ladies in Leather. And could I get some aspirin or something, too? Yeah, thanks."[/pindent] [i][pindent=2]He dropped sixty bucks on the counter, ignoring the stares his shredded arm got from the attendant turned, and walked out, checking his text messages for the directions. Climbing in his station wagon, he was stopped by the attendant.[/i] "Dude, your arm..." "Got in a fight with a lawn mower, earlier."[/pindent] [pindent=2][i]He ignored her stares as he turned the key and backed out onto the highway. He waved with the shredded arm as he opened a pack of cigarettes, packing them against the steering wheel as he wound his way through the city, lighting up as he approached his destination. Locking down the car and taking the time to hide his weapons, he collected his Colt 1911 and slid it into his side holster before finally making his way up to the townhouse with an extra pack of cigarettes in his pocket, the beers in his mangled left hand, and the DVDs under his arm. He raised his arm and knocked.[/i][/pindent][/color]

[color=crimson][i][pindent=2]He cruised down the street cautiously, one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped around a cigarette again. He spied the target building, swore silently to himself. Too many exits, a very strong tactical disadvantage. He looked around, nodding to himself. It was a mostly empty section of the city, some abandoned buildings, but only one had apparently been infested. He'd check the other two out tomorrow, or have Optical do it later that night. He sighed and pulled into the target building's neighboring carport. The empty carport.[/pindent] [pindent=2]That felt wrong, somehow, to him. He picked up the newspaper he'd grabbed from the broken dispenser back at the gas station and ran his eyes over it. There; a rash of disappearances in or around this section of the city, all going back about four days and all happening at night. Four days...then the Hive was pretty strong in terms of numbers right now. A beep from his cell phone confirmed it; a text from Beartalker. He sighed; over 50 of the bastards. He looked at his watch and swore; he'd have to throw his wall up around the entire building and get started. Nightfall was coming, and he couldn't afford to wait for backup. He grabbed his bandolier, took up his M-4, stopped and opened the seat to grab some more ammo, and began to march towards the stairwell.[/pindent] [pindent=2]It was growing darker, noticeably so. He waited a moment more, studying his cigarette, before placing it back between his lips. He raised his left hand and muttered 'Back!', and before his eyes, a shimmering turqoise shield, transparent and clear to all but him, domed the building. It was a painful drain on his willpower, but that would recover with time. The shield would last all of an hour before needing a recharge. That was alright by him. He grinned as he drew a combat knife and walked through the shield, his left hand free.[/pindent] [pindent=2]It was dark, and decidedly so. He groaned as he heard the muffled skittering that meant he was above the bastards. His eyes glanced around; plenty of open windows, now sealed by the shield, and an open-air stairwell. He nodded to himself; no carapaces or sheddings. He flicked his cigarette off to the side and approached the hole in the floor. And jumped back as something lashed out at him.[/pindent] [pindent=2]It was an ugly bug, almost up to his waist, he guessed, if it walked the way a bug should. It had way too many limbs, twice as many as a spider, and walked on four of them, extended downwards. It looked like something he'd seen in that movie he saw back at base, Starwars Troopers or something like that, only meaner. The bug crawled out of the hole and lashed out at him, almost catching his dogtags as he leaned back and parried its attack with his knife. The bug lashed again, he ducked back and redirected its attack again. This dance happened for a little while before he finally decided his back-up was too damn late, and he pulled out the Desert Eagle and fired once into the creature's belly. It fell, and the hunter kicked it with no little amount of disgust back into the hole that spawned it.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He pulled one of his grenades and tossed it into the hole, turning his head as the white phosphorus raged with blinding ultraviolet light. He heard skittering, squealing, hissing, and smirked as he heard the undeniable smack of bug-flesh on bug-flesh. He didn't know why, but WP grenades -always- made the bastards kill each other while they burned. He switched hands with the gun and summoned his tomahawk, shaking off the fuzziness that resulted in his concentration. He leapt down the hole.[/pindent][/i][/color]

[center][b]Warning: Intense Mature Themes, Violence, Gore, and Language[/b] [i][color=crimson]How do you sleep at night, friend? How do you sleep knowing the nightmares are waiting for you? How do you sleep knowing you may never awaken the next day? Do you take pills, and pray vainly for a dreamless slumber? Do you ease your guilty conscience with altruism, heroism? Or do you grimly bite the bullet, and tell them all to go to Hell? The things that go 'bump' in the night...no longer wait 'til sundown. The bogeyman hiding just out of reach...no longer rests under the bed. This world of monsters, this world of nightmares, is slowly becoming more active. The demons are slowly overlapping this world with ours. We have no choice, now, but to fight. We're the only ones who can. It's a war we may not win. After all...even God isn't on our side. -[b]Witness1[/b][/i] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [b][size=3][u]Prologue: To Take Up This Cross....[/b][/u][/size] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center] [i][pindent=2]His eyes were cold and restless. The bandage wrapped around his left forearm clung tightly, but offered no crimson revelation. It had almost healed. His right hand gripped the steering wheel of the stocky station wagon as his left dangled out the window, a cigarette clenched between the index and middle finger. He looked up, briefly, into the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of the empty interstate behind him. He smiled grimly as his eyes returned to the road.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He shook his head slowly, raising his left hand to place the filtered cancer stick in the corner of his mouth, brushing the loose braid of hair, beads, and one feather behind his left ear. He idly ran his fingers through his short, black hair, sighing quietly as he finally spotted the name of the suburb he was looking for. He turned off onto the exit a mile down, pulled into a mostly-empty gas station. He waved off the attendant who came walking out at the sound of the bell, idly noticing the man was haggard, weary. Life was hard on him.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He chuckled wryly at that as he climbed out of the car and pulled out a map, along with one of his prepaid cell phones. He noted his full reception signal as he opened his text message folder and compared notes with the map, nodding as he discovered his path. With another grim smile, he put the map away, flicking his cigarette into a nearby trash bin without so much as a glance. His destination wasn't too far. He looked up and glanced around. The attendant was behind a closed door, and the interstate exit was empty. The gas station at the entrance ramp on the other side of the interstate was empty, as well. He nodded with some satisfaction.[/pindent] [pindent=2]He reached into the wagon's back seat and knelt on the floor, grappling momentarily with a latch beneath the seat before the entire thing flipped back, revealing a small weapons cache. He looked at the phone again before nodding to himself, grabbing a bandolier and four grenades marked 'WP'. He then slipped a pair of knives into the strap, as well as a number of unmarked 'pineapples'. Having filled the bandolier, he turned his attention to a pair of sidearms. He favored two Colt Peacemakers for this particular Hunt, and thus replaced his typical sidearms with the old-fashioned handcannons. He nodded quietly to himself as he slid several of the six-shot round-reels into his coat's pockets, pulling his favorite sidearm, the Desert Eagle, out of the cache and sliding it into the holster under his left arm. Finally, he checked and loaded an automatic rifle, several clips of ammunition for it and the Eagle, and grabbed four bricks of military-grade plastic explosive. He glanced up and nodded, smiling genuinely, now. The attendant was still behind that opaque wall of his.[/pindent] [pindent=2]Closing up his backseat and placing the M-4 and the bandolier under a tarp in the very back of the station wagon, he wound his way up to the front counter inside the service station. He dropped fifty dollars cash on the counter, nodded to the attendant, and went back outside without exchanging a single word. When he got onto the road headed north, he had forty bucks worth of gas in the tank.[/pindent][/i][/color]

[color=crimson][b][u]From:[/b][/u] Shield223 [b][u]To:[/b][/u] Sword224 [b][u]Sub:[/b][/u] RE:Burrowers? [pindent=1]Hey, [i]haints[/i], it's Wolf. Just wanted to let you know I took a look at that building you were telling me about. You were right; there is something new hangin' around, and I doubt those were the last. They looked like people in body bags, only they were...wrapped up and hooked by chains. They use them as weapons, got a nasty new scar on my left forearm. Nothin' I ain't used to. The damn things are fast, though! By the end of it all, there were only two in the building, but it felt like I was gettin' herded around by -fifty-![/pindent] [pindent=1]Everything's cool, though, [i]haints[/i]. They seem to like my tomahawk a lot. When I called it in desperation, both of them popped out of the dirt and just....stared, I guess. I couldn't see any eyes, but their...'zippers' popped open and showed a wide iron-maiden's worth of spiky teeth. I popped each one a pineapple pill and watched the fireworks after that. Try to get this up on Hotel-November's boards soon, please; I have to go handle that little infestation you're having your albino friend check out for us. [i]Asiyu svayi, haints[/i].[/pindent][/color] [size=1]Minor note. I have to disagree. Maine lobster will forever be trumped, again and again, by Louisiana crawfish.[/size]

[color=crimson]Sign-ups are now closed. I have reserved Gavin and Aaryana a sign-up, and I have received a sign-up via PM from Allamorph which he shall post following this message. I thank everyone who has done so thus far. Given the nature of this RPG, and the direction I wish to take it in, I have vastly expanded my original expectations on how many people I wish to participate in this venture. Following the posting of this list, I will -not- be accepting any more reservations or sign-ups via PM. The list is as follows: [b]Raiha[/b] - Manjusra - Hermit [b]Indi[/b] - Marcus - Avenger [b]Allamorph[/b] - Nicholas - Wayward [b]Engel[/b] - Thomas - Judge [b]DeLarge[/b] - Jackson - Judge [b]Arichan16[/b] - Gwendolyn - Martyr [b]Neptune[/b] - James - Avenger [b]Zephyr[/b] - Amanda - Judge [b]inwardscream[/b] - Martin - Defender [b]GuyYouMetOnline[/b] - Vaxla - Wayward [b]Darren[/b] - Kazimir - Innocent [b]Knuckles' Girl[/b] - Amia - Defender You will notice that I have not chosen one Wayward or the other. My reasons for this are as follows; the sheer number of people in the RPG is astounding, compared to any other I have ever performed. This, in my eyes, gives an expanded opportunity for character interactions and good old RP fun. Given the stresses of having to RP a borderline psychotic, and convincingly at that, I have afforded this chance to both Allamorph and Guy in the hopes that it will make things more interesting. That, and I like psychos. In any case, sign-ups are now closed. I will delete and repost this list once Gavin and Aaryanna post their sign-ups. The RPG will begin either tomorrow, or Friday. In the words of the immortal Bruce Campbell, "Gimme some sugar, baby."[/color]

[color=crimson]First off, Raiha, you are more than allowed to come up with ideas as to monsters, enemies, and the like. In fact, I encourage it. This is -not- just a hack and slash RPG, it's primarily a strategy/survival/war RPG with an added focus on interpersonal relationships, but we can use all the baddies we can get our greedy little paws on, right? Second, inwardscream, as to your character having a special car, as long as it was feasible given their financial situation, the technology of the current times, and their access to weapons capable of being mounted on a vehicle (I say this because I have the feeling you're trying to make a [u]Dead Reckoning[/u] like in [i]Land of the Dead[/i]) then it's allowed. Just make sure you add in some roleplay about how they got it, the trouble they're in with the law for having it, licenses, etc. Remember rule number one. Police are -not- your friends. As for Vaxla, Guy, don't worry. Everyone's characters will start off separate with little exception for the first chapter, and begin their travel in the second. For another notice, I'm renaming this thread 'Hunter-Net', to be used as a kind of 'personal journal' for the monster updates and our characters experiences on fighting them. I'm hoping this will engender a little more creativity and enthusiasm for the RPG. Ja ne![/color]