Fantasy 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐍 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝

[AI10100]

Extra! Extra!

Tucker grinned when the paladin agreed to his proposition. "Pleasure! Name's Tuck." Unlike his employer, he wasn't exactly in any disguise for the mission so giving out a fake name seemed counterproductive. Besides, it wouldn't do him too well to lie through his teeth now for something so minor.

He seemed to pick up on a bit of Gerard's anxiety— and Tucker could make a few theories as to why. Either he had a personal deadline or he wasn't too keen on looking for a dog in the dead of night. He could understand the latter. After all, anyone in Theodan knew better than to roam the streets at night. Things happen at night and it would be best to deal with it by simply keeping yourself in your own home with the locks shut and the curtains drawn to keep yourself oblivious to whatever goes bump in the night.

Still, now that they had their own missions, Tucker bid farewell to 'Jacqueline' and Nicolette before merrily making his way to the tunnel with Gerard in relative peace. Once the crowds started thinning out until it was just the two of them making their way to the tunnel, Tucker finally spoke up again. "So, uh, know anythin' about the tunnels? I just know where it is but I never actually went in 'em, y'know?"

The reason why would become apparent once they reached the entrance. Everything about it rubbed him the wrong way as if it was there to swallow him whole. Something sent chills down his spine, was it his instinct of running away? No, it was just a draft. A draft coming from the tunnel but he couldn't make heads or tails into it even when he squinted. He chuckled nervously as he looked at Gerard. "Don't suppose 'ya carry a lantern?"

tucker

PLOTLINE: Hell Bother

LOCATION: Tunnels

INTERACTIONS: Gerard

TAGS: Sylvio

ITEMS: Revolver, Switchblade

code by valen t.

 

[mother of sorrows]

code by yousmelldead

Bird Song

The muzzled conversation fades away as anticipation rises, and you take this as your cue to go find your seats. In your cavernous box you have a fine view of the stage and of the heads below; and when the hall hushes into darkness, with a single clap of hands, there is nowhere else to look but where the light shines.

On a woman.

Split by retreating curtains, her form set by fake stone and lush, dark green foliage; the stage is set to resemble a jungle, or an ancient beach from an undetermined time. Does she represent a myth or an ancestor? It's hard to tell, even by her costume made from brittle, natural fibers, clad over her shoulder like a cold hand. She stands there in the middle, beneath her legs a magical pool of moving water, licking up her calves - and her legs, you notice a bit too late, are that of a goat's.

Not a woman, then, but a devil.

She has no real head. From behind her you hear the artificial or possibly real song of birds, perhaps to add to the atmosphere. She raises an arm, the flesh of it moving like an aftershock, an echo; and after a moment of wait,

she begins to sing.

You barely recognize it as noise. Before you hear it, you feel it; like two fingers probing in your skull, poking at the fleshy dark meat and figuring out where to pull. Your ears vibrate from the force of it and only when you focus, do you detect the sting of words. She's singing about something you remember... Yes, a memory... You just have to focus; is it a happy one, or one you would rather bury alive?

You can tell me.

I'M LISTENING, LIKE YOU ARE LISTENING TO ME.

@cwosont @jones573

 

[mother of sorrows]

code by yousmelldead

Witness my Word and Deed

You do not approach the woman and her companion directly. She does not notice you pass by, her uneven eyes rolling in her misshapen skull to watch the approaching guard. They accost her with a yell, their black uniforms shining like spilled oil. Whatever her fate is from now on, you've decided not to interfere. She moans like air leaving a raptured stomach, her scream echoing down the alley you take your steps down.

Perhaps you made a mistake. Or maybe, you just saved yourself from something terrible.

For a minute, you are greeted by nothing but the stench of sour city living, piss and trash in various states of rot; disgust spills under your feet, clings to wherever you walk. It is so dark here. It shouldn't possibly be so dark. It is day still, and yet you feel the pressure of light leave the more you walk - if you dared a glance upwards, you would only find the thin, grayish heads of buildings, crows circling their endless dance. The cobblestone street seems at once hostile and curious. A small stream pushes throught the cobblestone from the sewer, a couple of rats skittering away from your shadow; there is no one around, not even in the windows covered in human grease.

Here, you find it.

Blood. A tonne of it. Splattered across a wall, the moist ground, the rough trashcans. Sweet-smelling.

And you find skin.

Empty skin. Full and unruined. Discarded, like a forgotten dress.

And it's still warm.

Sear yokai. @neon reverie Colorless Spectrum

 

[Sylvio]

MOOD: Anxoious,

OUTFIT: Paladin Uniform

LOCATION: Tunnels

ITEM: Revolver

basics

MENTIONS:
AI10100

tags

TL;DR Gerard and Tuck are on their way to the tunnels to search for the missing dog. He's in a bit of a rush.

tl;dr

Gerard

Gerard blocked out his last trip to the tunnels. It was dark, he shot a beam of light and a few bullets but that was it. He and the other paladins he were with came away from that just fine. Walking beside Tuck, he had a distant look. Although he was at attention when he heard his cohort speak, "Huh? Oh, it's ideal not to lose each other down there. It's a network where all the corridors look the same and it's easy to lose your way. That's the obvious. So just stick close, if we split up we'll have a hard time finding each other."

By the time he finished giving his advice, they made it to the sewer tunnels. His heart skipped a beat as the dimly lit tunnels appeared before the pair. It was at times like this Gerard wished he was in a bigger group, there was barely any light down here. He didn't want to appear too anxious to Tuck but his anxiety would catch up to him as he stared down the dark void. He collected himself after a few seconds and turned to Tuck who asked for a lantern.

Gerard just shook his head, "I have something just as good." He said confidently. He then stood firmly and took a deep breath and moved his hands in a ritualistic way and chanted, "Lux via mea!"

A small ball of light emitted from Gerard's right hand that had luminosity similar to an oil lantern. "This should technically last us quite a while. We'll be able to see far enough to see someone before they see us." But even with his fancy paladin magic, he still couldn't ignore his building anxiety and spoke up. "Look I'm going to be honest, a lot of people never come back from the sewers. We'd be lucky enough to find a piece of Biscuit's remains down here. I fought a serial killing siren and a gang of fish monsters. So just stay close to me and you'll be fine."

With his free hand, he took his pistol from his holster and outed the chamber to check if it was fully loaded. Satisfied, he threw the chamber back in and gestured at Tuck to follow him inside.

code by valen t.

 

[Pepsionne]

MOOD:
Joyful, curious

LOCATION:
Balefly Estate

OUTFIT:

MENTIONS:
@miyabi @Ha_lfLife mother of sorrows

the apprentice

Björn

✧ THE INHERITANCE

If the air shared between the guests in the foyer had been charged with tension before, Lord Osluga’s response pulled at the fabric of it, drawing that tension bowstring tight. Even a misplaced glance endangered the thin crust of civility that had hardened over their small group.

Björn only blinked at the offended reprimands he received from his commentary. In glance alone from Osluga, and verbally from Lady Camilla. The polished glaze of distaste was not unusual for Björn to encounter, though the reasons for what spawned such a feeling were always lost on him.

The pointed way in which Camilla spit out the word tact, echoed in his mind. “Tact, tact,” Björn parroted to himself, already beginning to lose interest in their conversation.

The man lifted an elbow, maroon cloak tented in a shuffle of fabric. The sound of magical items clattered and chimed together from the wide swing of movement, giving an orchestra to his limbs as though he were a conductor. The apprentice fished around, lithe fingers scrabbling rather uncoordinated around the eclectic collection of magical items hidden around his person. When the pads of his fingertips suctioned onto a cold, smooth surface, Björn whipped out his hand with a flourish. Loosely secured magical items fell to the floor in the same sharp clamor as the hallway decor the wizard had knocked loose earlier. The sound was jarring in the somber morning air.

The pair of spectacles in his grip soon settled onto his face. Björn blinked as the foggy heat generated from his fingertips dissipated against the glass lenses, leaving instead a bleary smudge that had his pale lashes fluttering in annoyance.

The apprentice’s movements were hasty in collecting his belongings from the estate’s floor, shoving them into a number of pockets hidden in his attire. The fear of being left behind hastened his movements, as if the parlor door the group filtered into was really that far from the foyer.

Ambrose’s disgust at the dust blanketing the unattended room was lost on Björn, whose eyes began to glitter with the shine of amusement. He placed a hand to rest on the back of a covered couch, a puff of dust rising into the watery morning light following the action.

“Oh, wow, Lord Osluga, you have a lovely home.” Björn said, his tone nothing short of genuine awe. If the cobwebs gathered in deep, shadowed corners and filtering of dust highlighted by thin rays of light were noticed by the apprentice, it was clear that they were of no bother to him.

Ignoring her attempts at blocking the members of the group from the sight of the doll, Björn slipped past Lady Camilla. His shoulder brushed hers with the jingling harmony of a windchime. He kneeled before the wicker chair, gaze studying the porcelain doll intently. Porcelain skin was made even duller in the somber haze that suffocated the room. Björn sucked his tongue against his teeth, the sound sharp.

Björn stood with a groan of effort. “I’m aware she was listed free in your advertisement, but given what a beautiful doll you have here sir, I’d be quite remiss if I didn’t offer a fair trade for her.” He lifted his cloak slightly, gesturing with the opposite hand to the faint glimmer of magical items within. “I have many magical items I’d be willing to part with, if they’re within your taste.”

coded by reveriee.

 

[. D O V E]

The Detective

madame g

location

the shoppe

tags

Steve Jobs mother of sorrows

The ladies trudged through the crowded maze of the Sleeping Coach like two ornate flowers drifting through rotting shrubs. The Madame had lost count of the half-hearted apologies she has given the many patrons whose limbs she had accidentally stepped on as she tried to keep up with her surprisingly agile companion. By the time she reached Nicolette, the latter looked to be interrogating the bartender who seemed too tense for his own good.

Intriguing. Could their new friend be a master of interrogation? Or was the strange lad hiding something? Either way would make for a good plot.

With a light chuckle, she took hold of Nicolette's hand and retracted it from the rug before slightly leaning against the counter and flashing her pearly-white teeth at the waiter. "Now, now, looks like the three of us are all having a rough day. My partner and I have been dreadfully exhausted looking for this missing dog, and it's making us a tad agitated. Perhaps two glasses of your best seller could help us, hm?" She sighed as she sat on a stool and folded her glasses on the countertop, revealing brown eyes squinting with expectation straight at the man.

code by @Nano

 

[mother of sorrows]

code by yousmelldead

Hell Bother

THE TUNNELS.

You two enter the tunnels, prepared or not - and if not, you will have to be.

The wall are damp and beaten, dark like burnt flour; there is a drift of rooty stench, carrot-y and all starch. Wet clog sticks its finger up your nose and pebbles dance under your feet as you walk further. It is colder here almost enough to shiver. The tunnel shivered under the magical light as if afraid, or as if chilled by its own air. A minute passes, two, but you see no sign of the dog.

It is so quiet. It is a tunnel, yes, but shouldn't you hear carriages overhead? The creaking of trees?

It is so, so quiet.

(''...hey, you. look here. yes, you two!'')

What will you do now? Will you continue or go back?

AI10100 Sylvio

 

[mother of sorrows]

code by yousmelldead

Hell Bother

THE SHOPPE.

The bartender looks at the two women. With a bit of disdain, unspoken suspicion and possibly distant pain, but at least with some attention that seems to be a rare gain here. He wordlessly reaches under the counter to pull out a nice bottle of wine, shining in the light like coagulated blood. It spills into the glass just as thickly and the drink is warm in your hands, smelling of cinnamon and clove. At the questions his face stiffens flat, observing them with the same eyes one might observe undercover guards.

''A dog?'' His voice is rusty from a seeming lack of use. ''I've seen plenty of dogs. What do you want with one?''

There is a bitter sarcasm to his tone, though you have to wonder how genuine it is. He doesn't seem to be happy talking to the two guests at all.

Spoiler: NICOLETTE.

𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐍 - 01.
And there is this tremble to his words - such a little tremble you could have missed it in this blabber and noise. But you didn't.

Steve Jobs . D O V E

 

[Steve Jobs]

PLOT LINE: Hell Bother

LOCATION: The Shoppe

INTERACTIONS: @svetnica (Bartender), . D O V E (Madame G)

nicolette barlowe

Nicolette met the bartender's eyes, none too bothered by his hawkish gaze nor mulled wine he poured the two of them. Rather, it was quite interesting that his attention turned from the back door to the two of them. She slid her (now wet) hand over to the glass, sipping the drink despite her usual distaste for spiced drinks.

"I want what any owner wants," the heiress answered solemnly, "I haven't been able to sleep a wink since he disappeared two days ago."

code by valen t.

 

[. D O V E]

The Detective

madame g

location

the shoppe

tags

Steve Jobs mother of sorrows

The Madame swirled the glass of red wine between her index and middle finger as she hummed in agreement with her partner's ruse. To Nicolette's credit, she was making a convincing job at being a heartbroken pet owner while at the same time maintaining her forwardness. It was a commendable talent that the writer would be certain to incorporate into her upcoming novel's main character.

The detective took a gracious sip of the wine as she let the other take the lead, the warm liquid flowing down her throat like a river to a desert. She found that it was a nice change to sit back and watch her latest inspiration shine instead of hogging all the spotlight for herself.

"Indeed." She placed a comforting hand on Nicolette's shoulder to sell the act even further while her other hand reached for something in her pocket. "Here, kindly take a good look." She slid a piece of paper with the picture of the fae's missing dog perfectly replicated on its face.

"Perhaps you've seen our sweet boy? He loves being around people. Any information will help us be on our way, and perhaps, help a generous tip be on your way." The Madame delivered the latter half of the sentence quieter, a look of desperation feigned on her face.

code by @Nano

 

[AI10100]

Extra! Extra!

Tucker hummed and noted it down. He had no plans on getting split up with Gerard— the guy with the gun and an actual license to shoot it plus training because he was a paladin. Even more so because Madame had explicitly ordered him to keep his eyes on Gerard and far be it for him to go against her wishes, right?

He let out an impressed chuckle as he chanted something and light appeared in his hand. "Hey, that's pretty cool. I never really understood any of that fancy schmancy magic stuff." And he honestly never would despite the abundance of magic he had around him. Listening to Gerard's comment about the sewers made him feel a bit pessimistic about the entire endeavor. Then again, it wasn't like Tucker was expecting they would actually find Biscuit but they had taken the job and they had no choice but to see it through.

Lying to a fae typically did not work out very well.

"Well then, I leave my life to your capable hands, sir Gerard sir!" He said with a grin despite his own instincts screaming for him to turn back and run. "But a serial killing siren and a gang of fish monsters...? That's some story. Gotta tell me sometin' about that when we're in a safe place."

With that, he followed the paladin inside. The feeling of fear only heightened from there. His skin crawled and the silence became even more eerie as they ventured forward; time seemed to be non-existent in the seemingly endless passageway in the tunnels. Tucker had been equipped to make a quip to lighten the air but the air felt oppressive— like any sound would disturb what lurked beyond the light provided by Gerard.

A voice barely disturbed the silence that Tucker was half-convinced it had been his imagination. "Sir..." He whispered as his eyes scanned their surroundings, trying to spot any sort of danger. "The dog couldn't have made it this far in, right?" It may as well have if it decided to brazenly run through the darkness while chasing something, but the payment was starting to look more and more like it was not worth it.

tucker

PLOTLINE: Hell Bother

LOCATION: Tunnels

INTERACTIONS: Genevievve, Nicolette, Gerard

TAGS: Sylvio

ITEMS: Revolver, Switchblade

code by valen t.

 

[Colorless Spectrum]

Eryn Vermont

Eyes veered toward the man on the balcony, Tammeryn saw him merely as an observer. Not really a talker. She shook her head when Iphigenia turned to her, 'I've never met nor heard of them' were the words she wanted to convey with those simple movements. Her attention swerved back to the cause of it all, how it cries, observe it, then back to the conversation at hand. The young florist could only stifle a peal of laughter at the Apothecary's sudden audacity, a far cry to Tammeryn's impression of her but refreshing to see nonetheless.

"There could be answers if we go to the alleyway, that's true... but even if we stay to help defend her there is little we can do in the presence of law enforcement, I don't like seeing my friends hurt or get the both of us arrested."

She saw the streaks of red caressed the white of the balcony, no- devour was the better word. It was hard to tell if there was any meaning to such an action, even colors held meaning but streaking the balcony may hold no sort of sentiments at all. The rhythm of clamoring shoes of authority found its way to Tammeryn's ears. The sight of a bulking frame and a more familiar mask hiding their face. A friend whose interest in flowers always excited her, as there were not many who shared such sentiments.

She turned her head back to Iphigenia with a reassuring smile, "Of course I'll join you." Tammeryn looked at the painter with a frisky shine in her blood-colored eyes as she offered, "Feel free to join us, unless you prefer to watch the event unfold from the safety of your balcony." She took Iphigenia's hand in hers and pulled the other woman gently toward the alley, "Let's go."

Their yell pounded the drums inside her ear and echoed to the back of her head. It was the kind of sound that would haunt a person's dream and turn it into a nightmare. There was no turning back now. The stench that invaded her sense of smell found its way to her tongue, a smell so pure, strong, and awful that she could almost taste it. "Odd how it only became darker and darker in here... Not to mention the awful smell." The ends of her skirt were hanging just enough to stay clean, the street felt sloppy beneath her shoes.

Tammeryn was hardly bothered by anything, not with the stench, not the scarce amount of light, the crows above, nor the rats skittering about. "Oh dear..." She sucked in a breath at the sight of blood around them and the skin that lay on the ground like a doll's dress. She wondered if Iphigenia would have any idea. Was it alright to approach it? No, she mustn't be so impulsive. Magic was never her forte, nor was it identifying creatures which was why caution should be exercised... but she couldn't deny herself the fact that it made her a bit excited. "Iphi? Do you have any idea what this is?"

Mention: yokai. @neon reverie mother of sorrows Sear

Color: #ffa7b6

 

[yokai.]

plotline :

witness my word and deed

location :

the
alley

outfit :

mentions :

the twinsies

interactions :

Tammeryn ( Colorless Spectrum )

iphigenia

✶ the lamb

Iphigenia could only wince at the horrible gore before them, slight discomfort seen in the minute clench of her jaw. Really, she'd seen worse displays, and done by her own unwilling hand, nonetheless. Although just by looking at the scene, she could tell that this exact kind of magic was not necessarily something she had ever encountered before. Yes, it was true she could treat the rarest plagues with a mere wave of a hand (on a good day), but surely this was not something that could be cured…

Truth be told, it looked like the work of a humanoid.

A beast would've mindlessly shredded the skin to ribbons, no, this was done by a precise, clinical hand. With intent. Perhaps a magic-user could be the culprit, Iphigenia thought. It made the most sense, given the thick trail of magic that had appeared earlier, and how the surrounding light had suddenly eclipsed into an eerie darkness.

“I have no idea… Everything seems so unnatural in this area, I don't doubt that this flesh is connected to that woman somehow,” Iphigenia guessed, hands reaching behind to untie her cloak and silently cursing that she hadn't bothered to wear gloves before leaving the house that day. She took the apron and covered her right hand with it, fabric acting like a shield against the skin as she picked it up gingerly, inspecting it closely with a hesitant but curious eye. It was hard to really spot anything, what with the stark absence of light. “Dear saints, the blood. It's absolutely everywhere.”

The skin, itself, looked and felt pristine, though. Relatively healthy, even. In passing, Iphigenia thought of the Craven twins, and briefly wondered what kind of blood price it would fetch on Theodan's black market. She grimaced, pushing away the thought as she folded the skin and wrapped it in her cloak as neatly as she could, warm blood soaking through the soft fabric.

“...Don't look at me like that, I'm keeping it only in case we need it later,” she muttered, suddenly self-conscious enough to avoid Tammeryn's gaze, despite how futile the gesture might have been in such darkness. Such supple, undamaged skin was fairly valuable in the medical field, though. She knew a fair amount of people who would do unspeakable things to hide their disfigurements, so it would be handy to keep something like this on hand if ever the need arised. And it wasn't like anyone would be needing it any time soon, if they just left it lying so carelessly around to be fed on by the common rat or bird of prey. Slippery slope! “Nevertheless, please keep your guard up, alright? And stay close. Whatever crawled out of it might still be lurking nearby… Speaking of, do you have any matches on you? It'd be nice to see where we're going.”

coded by reveriee.

 

[Sylvio]

MOOD: Anxoious, Weary

OUTFIT: Paladin Uniform

LOCATION: Tunnels

ITEM: Revolver

basics

MENTIONS:
AI10100 mother of sorrows

tags

TL;DR Gerard and Tuck are in the tunnels where they hear a voice underneath. He remains cautious but chooses to listen to the voice. However, the darkness triggers Gerard's paranoia and he struggles to stand his ground.

tl;dr

Gerard

The paladin swung his hand with his revolver, urging Tucker to stay behind him. This wasn't anything new for him or what the other paladins have discussed. Many different types of Fae stayed down here, not all of which were hostile. Neither could see who was the owner of the voice but it was clear that it had intentions of talking to them.

Gerard reached his hand out to see if he could get his light in the source of the voice. His mind started racing however while chills ran through his body. He felt like the dark was consuming him and that the light he conjured was dim. Gerard's breathing was shallow, he was spiraling.

Impossible.

Why now?

He didn't even know where the voice was coming from. It could've been a talking rat and here he was struggling to even stand. It felt like his mind was going on autopilot as it was feeding him thoughts that were counterintuitive to what was going on right now.

"Run." His head screamed. And he really wanted to, but that would mean leaving Tuck at the mercy of whatever was hear and Gerard didn't want anyone else's death on his consciousness. Why was he so terrified? He fought man-eating fish men for crying out loud, and now he was about to fall to his knees because he was scared of the dark. "Pathetic." His head said to him. He was, wasn't he? He had no reason to be scared, he had a gun and the power of light so bright it could incinerate whatever was here.

What seemed like a couple minutes felt like hours for Gerard as he remembered his capabilities. He then took a deep breath before speaking, "We can't know for sure." He said in response to Tuck about Biscuit's whereabouts. The sewers were expansive and the dog could be anywhere, but maybe they had a lead.

"Show yourself!" Gerard said sternly in response to the unknown voice. He now remained focused on his breathing, ensuring that whatever was shrouded in darkness would not catch him off guard.

code by valen t.

 

[mother of sorrows]

code by yousmelldead

Hell Bother

THE SHOPPE.

The bartender's expression shifts.

Perhaps it is the Madame's offer of a tip, or perhaps it is Nicolette's pleading act of an owner at her wits end. Or maybe it is both in equal amounts, because his sneering frown melts away into a face so much milder, almost worried, as if hearing distant memories. He wrings his hands like a lot of laundry stuck in wild waters, the skin red from cleaning; and with a hefty sigh he puts them flat on the bar, staring them down.

''There was a dog here, a day ago.'' He narrows his eyes down at the two women. ''And if you are the owners, the guard will have your hide for letting that beast run free.''

He shakes his head, disbelief or stumbling fear.

''He ruined every sort of kitchen equipment we have.''

Surely, a dog of that size could not manage that. Did you make a mistake?

And yet, if you glance over his side, you truly can see broken bolts and metal on the floor...

You could turn back, or you could investigate this further. But you are not so sure if this is a mistake.

Steve Jobs . D O V E