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 Midnight (OOC)

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Zaroas

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PostSubject: Midnight (OOC)   Sat Sep 13, 2014 1:48 am

Midnight


“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” -Plato

_________________________________________________________________________

The storm had begun as a light drizzle in the afternoon, but by dusk it had become a torrential downpour, drowning out the various lights of the city of Areundel and creating a monotonous atmosphere of depressing gray, save for the sporadic flashes of lightning. On nights like this, the stronghold-like settlement was rather peaceful, asides from the occasional break-in and the ever busy docks. It was rare that the Areundel Guard had to traverse into the lightly flooded streets on these occurrences, though the final hours of October 12th was no regular night regardless.

The sound of two steam engines barely cut through the deafening rainfall as a pair of police motorcycles made their way carefully through the streets, weaving in and out of alleys to cut down on travel time. Their worn wheels broke through the shallow waters created by the precipitation with ease, though the vehicles could easily lose traction on the cobblestone roads. A bolt of lightning temporarily illuminated the destination of the two Areundel Guard officers with ominous pale light, a foreboding thunderous clap following shortly after. Multitudes of water droplets ran off of the slate roof of the two story house, the coloration of its brick exterior darkened by moisture. The building was sparingly illuminated - The lights of kerosene lamps burned through only two windows, both on the bottom floor.

Sergeant John Harte and Constable Henry Sturgis III stopped their individual vehicles, the suppressed droning of the engines ceasing and paused for a moment to observe the scene, despite the distasteful weather. Sergeant Harte was a grizzled veteran of the Guard, having been a member of the force for many years and bearing many scars of service. He had a somewhat stocky build, though wasn’t quite considered large. From a pouch on the right side of his waist he took out a small bronze lighter and a cigar, carefully placing the latter in his mouth and lighting it, shielding the flame from the invasive and ever present water with his left hand. The red glow of the cigar illuminated his face, revealing rugged features, a brown beard that was once cleanly shaven, and hazel eyes that revealed his weariness. The smoke of the cigar drifted upwards and curled off the tip of his police hat, though this was interrupted by John releasing the object from the grip of his badly chapped lips and blowing outwards. The dull smoke let out was quickly lost within the unrelenting rainstorm.

Constable Sturgis III, on the other hand, was rather new to the Guard, having completed his training only months prior to October 12th. Despite this, he was a good officer, altruistic and capable; though his clumsiness, especially with firearms, sometimes overshadowed this. He was rather thin, with almost sickly pale skin and straw-like blonde hair. He stood there in the rain for a while, observing his surroundings with curious ocean-blue eyes. Henry seemed calm on the outside, though he was actually quite worried and fearful internally. These types of emotions typically arose on patrols, calls, or otherwise. As if seeking reassurance, he rotated towards John and took a deep breath in. “So, why are we here again?” He asked, his voice slightly shaky. He already knew the answer, but wanted to confirm within himself that all would be fine.

John took a drag on his cigar and slowly exhaled once it was out of his mouth, placed between his right index and middle fingers. “We got a call from the neighbors in that house over there,” He began, motioning towards a similarly designed structure to the right of the building. “There was a lot of noise coming from over here, and it didn’t sound pleasant. It’s typical, I’ve come by here a lot with other officers.”

Henry frowned, staring at the house opposite them with anxiety. “What for?”

“It’s tragic, really,” John sighed, gesturing towards it with his right hand, still holding the cigar. “Mr. Anderson over here lost his job at one of the refineries in the East Quarter. The fumes got to him; his lungs aren’t what they used to be. He hit the bottle in his misery. In his drunken fits of rage, he takes out his anger on his wife and son – He used to have two, but one died in a whaling accident. Lot of domestic violence and abuse, and more often than not, we’re the only ones standing in the way of him and a truly tragic story.” He looked down longingly at the cigar, wanting to take another smoke, but decided against it. He dropped it into the street, and the thin sheet of water flowing around his feet finally extinguished it. “Let’s get this over with. If this is what it usually is, it won’t take long at all. I’ve been meaning to arrest him for a while anyways, and never got my chance because the men I’m usually on patrol with don’t have the guts to let me do my job… Or something.”

The pair approached the house with quick and purposeful steps, finally seeking shelter from the onslaught of the storm. They reached the door; an old wooden one, with a rusted iron knocker in the shape of a lion and a comparatively new doorknob. There was a faded layer of white paint, washed away with time and rain. John turned to Henry, grinning halfheartedly. “Son, I understand your anxiety. I was once the same way, though perhaps a bit more gung-ho. I’ll handle this one, it happens often enough regardless. You just sit there and watch.” The Constable nodded, and John rotated his body back towards the door. Clenching his right hand, he rapped the door hard with his fist three times. “Mr. Anderson,” He shouted in a stern, authoritative voice. “Open up, it’s the Guard!” He lit another cigar from his bag, unable to resist the temptation of another smoke, and looked back to Henry. “With these kind of men, you have to be firm and absolute. None of the forgiveness and gentle crap.” They waited for another minute before the Sergeant grew frustrated, banging the door another four times. “Mr. Anderson!” His voice was not met with a reply. Clearly impatient following another half a minute, John tried to use the knob to find it unlocked. It creaked open slowly as the two officers stepped inside. What they found caused the cigar to drop out of John’s mouth from shock and made Henry almost scream in fear.

Two bodies lay on the wood floor of the house’s foyer, both meticulously placed side by side with their legs and arms straight. A thick pool of combined deep red blood was under them, however for the most part it appeared that the bodies were partially drained of fluid. They were, however, clearly identifiable as Mrs. Anderson and Charles Anderson, the son of thirteen years. The former’s plain light pink dress was torn up in many areas and was stained bright red across the stomach, as if it had been slashed by something. On the other hand, Charles did not have any visible injuries, though one could tell most of the blood pooled up on the floor had come from his backside. The faces of both were locked in terrified screams, though their eyes had been shut.

The two officers were silent for a while, simply staring at the scene. John, grinding up the end of his cigar with his leather boot, overcame his initial surprise relatively quickly and knelt to better observe. Peering closely at Mrs. Anderson, he noticed a couple things. “Henry,” He whispered, looking up at the young officer. “Look. She’s covered with… teeth and bite injuries.” He pointed to several areas of the body that appeared to have been punctured, ripped, and torn.

Henry, his eyes wide with fear and voice full of unadulterated terror, could only respond meekly. “Like… From a man?” He asked.

John shook his head. “No…” He trailed off, his eyes wandering off into the distance. “It’s more like a wolf or a bear.” He averted his attention to Charles, and noticed the same type of injuries, albeit with less frequency. He frowned, thinking as he stood back up. “What the hell could have done something like this?” This was met by Henry’s shaky finger pointing in the direction of roughly carpeted stairs leading to the second floor. They had been freshly stained with blood; it looked as though something had been dragged up it recently. John slowly approached the trail of blood, attempting to make sure none of the floorboards creaked with each step. He looked closely at the blood, observing it, before saying, “It’s fresh.” The Sergeant reached behind his back and grabbed the large shotgun slung across it, with a sawed off barrel. The weapon was made of iron, bronze, and oak wood for the stock, handle, and other parts, and the metal areas had been recently polished. He pumped it, a finger already placed precariously on the trigger. It was clear that John was ready for trouble. “Keep quiet, and close,” He breathed, beckoning for Henry to come close as he began his ascent up the stairs.

The pair’s collective fear gradually grew as they continued upwards. About halfway up, a loud thump could be heard from above, as if a large weight had been dropped onto the floor. John hesitated for a moment, inhaling sharply, but then took another step forward. Henry shook with fear, glancing anxiously at the only thing lighting their way – His kerosene lamp, the flame of which was now rather small and dim. A guttural scream sounded out, and Henry jumped, nearly dropping it. John’s eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth, continuing on.

It wasn’t before long when the pair reached the darkened room from which the noise had come from. Even with the lamp, the darkness was overpowering, choking out their sight and magnifying their fears. It was completely silent save for the breath of both officers and the pattering of rain. As John stepped a foot inside the room, the wind howled like a blood curdling scream, sending chills up their spines, their fear spreading its roots within them. The pair continued onwards into the room, unable to make out their surroundings with the limited sight available. In the house of the Andersons, darkness and the unknown consumed all, but gradually. They gnawed away at your senses, your feelings, and your very sanity.

And then, suddenly, they were blessed and cursed by the flash of lightning outside of the window. It brilliantly lit up the room, revealing all within it. The first thing that John and Henry could see, in the split second of agonizing light, was that this was a bedroom. The second was the body hanging from the ceiling by its feet. Much of Mr. Anderson’s remains had been torn, ripped apart by something, and his skin and flesh bore the same injuries of his family. The room was splattered with his blood, a rather messy job. Thirdly, John believed he had seen someone or something huddling in the opposite corner of the room.

The return of the dark, the crash of thunder immediately following, and the terrified cries of Henry (who had been unable to mask his fear fully, of course) disoriented the Sergeant greatly as he brought his shotgun up and aimed steadily into the room, sweeping it for movement. A shift in the shadows brought him to pull the trigger. The room lit up with a flash, albeit less bright, once more, though the smoke from the barrel of the shotgun and the painfully loud blast that emanated from it prevented anyone from taking another good look around the room. John lowered the shotgun, breathing heavily, and took a couple seconds of rest. He was about to make a remark towards Henry, but he was interrupted.

For Henry, time seemed to go in slow motion as someone, or something, leaped towards John with a harsh shriek like that of a banshee. He couldn’t make out many of its features, but from what he could see, it had dark grey, almost pure black skin that blended perfectly with the suffocating, wicked darkness. It had razor sharp claws on its fingers and toes. John, upon seeing what was happening, attempted to bring up his shotgun for another shot but the thing prevented this by digging its talons into his arm and dragging them towards the hand. He screamed out of pure, torturous pain, dropping his weapon to the ground with a loud clatter. The creature was on top of him and began battering the Sergeant, the sound of its assault mixing with John’s wails and screams. Henry dropped the kerosene lantern, the glass encasement shattering upon the floor and gas spilling. He was too fearful to make a sound as he turned and rushed towards the stairs. He nearly tripped several times, panting with panic, as he ran, his instinct to flee kicked in by whatever was attacking John. He burst out the door, sprinting as fast as he could towards his motorcycle and quickly turning it on. It was too late for John; from what the Constable had seen, he knew that his partner was already dead. He hesitated, however, upon hearing the sound of glass shattering behind him, the source of which was the house. He turned to see brightly burning flames from behind the windows, likely from the lantern he had dropped, as well as movement near the side of the house. Henry didn’t have time to think before making an action, and after seeing what had happened to John, he had no will to fight.

Constable Sturgis III rode off into the rainstorm, and the central clock tower of Areundel struck midnight. The bells tolled – For October 12th, for the Andersons, and for Sergeant John Harte. It was just the beginning.

_________________________________________________________________________

The incident of October 12th was followed by several more like it over the next days in Areundel. The violent occurrences shocked and confused most people of the city. Who or what could be so ferocious and savage, and attack with such frequency? These men and women, citizens of Areundel, had forgotten humanity’s past. They had largely disregarded what was beyond the two walls separating them from the world beyond.

Those who did not sought a solution, and one was immediately clear.
_________________________________________________________________________

Welcome to Midnight, an original roleplay by yours truly, Zaroas. In this, you will play as a member of a team of vampire hunters in a fantasy/steampunk setting. There will be elements of horror within this as well. All characters will start in the grand city of Areundel, but as the story progresses the world of Midnight will be thoroughly explored.


Rules:

1. Not godmodding, autoing, metagaming, etc. Basically, don’t be an idiot when RPing here. Follow all the standard Storyweb rules.
2. As GM and creator of the story, what I say goes. Yes, you may question my decisions if you have a valid argument, but most of the time you likely won’t.
3. Swearing is allowed within the confines of the pre-established Storyweb rules. Blood and gore is allowed (though I don’t encourage you to go into excruciating detail), and romance is fine (as long as it’s not overly contrived) but no sexual topics. Thank you.
4. Please do not kill other’s characters without their permission. I reserve the right to do this, and only if an issue arises and I speak over it with the person at fault.
5. This is a literary RP – At least a short paragraph per post, please.
6. Develop your characters and make them realistic. Nobody likes a Mary Sue who undergoes no changes throughout the RP.
7. Stay within the confines of the lore. This will be expanded upon later in the OOC, but, for example, there are no rocket launchers or modern assault rifles here.
8. The extent of magic used here will be psionic abilities (Such as telekinesis). However, if you’re going to make a character with psychic capabilities, please consult with me first about it. I don’t want to see any fireballs or force lightning, as well.
9. If you’ve read this, please place the word, “Blade” somewhere in your character sheet.
10. Please interact with other characters within the story. You might ask why this needed to be said, as it should be quite obvious, but it really does.
11. Don’t make overpowered characters.
12. Don’t spam, flame, etc. This goes with the rules of Storyweb but I feel like it needs to be stated more explicitly.

Backstory:

Spoiler:
 


Setting:

Spoiler:
 

Vampires:

Spoiler:
 
Psionics:

Spoiler:
 

Technology and Weaponry:

Spoiler:
 

I will be updating this OOC with new information, though I will post in the thread to let everyone know when I do so.

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Last edited by Zaroas on Sat Sep 13, 2014 8:09 pm; edited 6 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Sat Sep 13, 2014 1:48 am

Character Sheet Information

When submitting a character sheet for approval, first post it here. Once it is approved by myself, move it to the character vault thread that will be created. Each character gets one post there.

Character sheet:
(lol thanks Al)

Basic Information

Name: (Character's real name. You can use real names from any culture.)
Nickname/Alias/Etc: (Pretty self explanatory)
Gender: (Male or female? Technology here hasn't progressed to allow both yet)
Age: (16-45)
Height: (I don't care what format this is in)
Weight: (See above)


Appearance

Hair Color: (What color is your character's hair?)
Eye Color: (Self explanatory)
Ethnicity: (Skin color, essentially. Note that no Earth countries/nationalities exist here. Just put what your character WOULD be.)
Physical Appearance: (What does your character look like?)
Attire: (What does your character wear? Also include what they wear when fighting vampires)


Personality/Other


Outward & Innate Personality: (How does your character act outwardly? How does he/she feel inwardly? This shouldn't be too difficult to figure out)
Hobbies/Interests: (What does your character do for fun?)
Skills/Talents: (Similar to hobbies, but refers to the level of skill a character has. For example, a character could like playing violin but isn't very good at it or vice versa.)
Prized Possession: (What object does your character value above all else?)
History/Bio: (Optional, or PM it to me to keep it a secret.)
Abilities/Weapons: (What does your character use to fight? Include psionic abilities in here as well)
Flaws: (Every character needs flaws, nobody is perfect.)
Other: (What else doesn't fit here)

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Last edited by Zaroas on Sat Sep 13, 2014 8:16 pm; edited 5 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Sat Sep 13, 2014 1:48 am

Accepted Characters


Zaroas

-William Armistead
-Elizabeth Sterling
-Ryosuke Kobayashi

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Last edited by Zaroas on Sat Sep 13, 2014 8:16 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Sat Sep 13, 2014 1:49 am

Reserved for plot information and anything else I may think of. You may now post.

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Celo the Impossible

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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Sat Sep 13, 2014 1:54 am

Looks great Very Happy I'll work on a sheet tomorrow
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Zaroas

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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Sat Sep 13, 2014 2:18 am

Awesome, Celo! I'll post my sheets tomorrow as well. I'll edit them in this post most likely.

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The Stalker of Shadows

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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Sat Sep 13, 2014 9:50 pm

I really want to jion this. But I'd hate to be unfair to make it my attempt to try RPing again.
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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Sun Sep 14, 2014 4:21 pm

Reserved for character Soren Aurussen.

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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Sun Sep 14, 2014 11:42 pm

The Stalker of Shadows wrote:
I really want to jion this. But I'd hate to be unfair to make it my attempt to try RPing again.

It wouldn't be unfair, honestly. The more the merrier!

I've been busy so I'll post my sheets sometime soon.

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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Mon Sep 15, 2014 12:28 pm

I'm waiting for other sheets before working on mine- lo siento ^_^'
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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Mon Sep 15, 2014 10:59 pm

Celo.... the head Tire Gif is still in there...
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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Mon Sep 15, 2014 11:51 pm

WHAT!? I deleted it from- aaaah lemme retry deleting it ;-;
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PostSubject: Re: Midnight (OOC)   Wed Sep 17, 2014 2:58 am

Looks fancy, I'll think about joining and see if I can create a decent character.
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