101 Untold Tales

Countdown

2012-01-09T22:19:00.006-05:00

Wyck's sketches of late have been little more than doodles. A few people at the Wolf's Mantle Tavern, have, however, figured out that the doodles have layers and meaning to them.

One such doodle was a series of multi-color dots that formed a circle. Looked at more closely the dots formed the pattern of a particle collision necessary for the 'thrust' in Aerodyne Engines. This version, however, is a more refined, efficient reaction that would allow for much larger dynes.

One of the 'doodles' is a series of numbers. XX-XX-XX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XX:XX:XX . XX-XX-XX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XX:XX:XX (you get the idea). One of the more recent ones has a date that's approaching and a location in the bad lands.

Axiom has asked to speak with Wyck to try and unravel the meaning behind the 'doodles'.

In time they may discover that the messages are from the future.

The 'visions' that Wyck is picking up on are actually from a street-seer that he knows named Dalia. She is sending him the messages in an attempt to help avert some great cataclysm that she sees coming to burn many of the cities in LATMA.

She is a semi-known prophetess amongst the Lowteks in LATMA who is often proven wrong or more inaccurate than accurate; until now.

Another player in this wonderful countdown is Wyck's latest boss; Martin Bishop. Mister Bishop is a major player within the Corporate Center; controlling plenty of resources both financial and corporeal. Recently Mr. Bishop has employed Wyck to coordinate several 'living statue' parties where he and his guests enjoy the company of several young persons who are in various states of undress while they pose as 'statues' for their parties.

Wyck's Satchel

2012-01-08T01:00:00.002-05:00

What's in Wyck's Satchel you might ask?

His canvas satchel has been with him for years. Originally it looked like the bag to the right - but over time it was 'decorated' and personalized with a black, sharpy marker and given all sorts of odd bits of symbols and such here and there.

Inside the satchel, on any given day he carries a few odds and ends that make one's life on the streets a bit easier. An extra t-shirt or maybe some baby wipes. Since he usually operates close to his Winnebago, he doesn't have to carry too much on his back but he likes to keep himself prepared for any eventuality.

One of his prized possessions and something that he's not often without is the hunting knife that he was given by his grandfather before he left Louisiana.

The hunting knife is usually kept bound in its sheath until he needs it - and is not just for defense. He's used it for all manner of things over the years - from breaking into buildings, digging up roots and even minor surgery.

Since he's usually sketching something - drawing, writing or otherwise being 'scribal', he usually carries a small, 'field' journal in his satchel for all the odds and ends that creep up.

His journal holds everything from sketches of people, maps of the city, things he over hears from one person or another as well as to-do lists, phone numbers and the like. It's literally a catch-all for everything he needs. Every once and a while he might actually let people see into its covers but its difficult to interpret his shorthand.

Another of his favored possessions is the green, malachite egg that his granny used when she healed folks. The egg is about the same size and shape of a normal egg but carved and tumbled smooth to the touch. It's one of his most handy 'lucky charms' as he calls them and is a representation that he uses for all of his healing spells though he has been able to use it to affect the growth of plants.

Once, when he planted a tree in honor of someone that he lost, he used the egg to encourage it's growth by a few years so that he was sure that it would survive.

His Tarot Deck was a gift from a group of 'Street Gypsies' he met in Los Angeles. The deck, an old Rider-Waithe deck that has been around forever, is something that he keeps in case he needs to brew up a bit of witchy-poo vibe with people. They can ignore the malachite egg but when people see the Tarot they immediately start thinking that he can see the future and fly on a broom stick.

Stupid Humans.

Wyck has an uncanny ability to always find the 'right' card to tell whomever it is that's wanting him to read for them

MISCELLANEOUS STUFF

An old military-issue flashlight with ever-full batteries is something that he's found quite handy. Even if he could probably see at night - he would still need something to signal people or illuminate something so that everyone -else- could see it as well.

An old zippo that his granddad carried for years. The zippo has a hart-shape scratched into one side and looks like it has been through a fire; which it had according to his grandfather.

Does there need to be a reason?

50' of 550 Cord. For all those people / things that need tied up.

A tool for almost every occasion.

For every -OTHER- occasion

One-Gallon Ziploc bags are useful for everything from gloves to evidence bags. Having a few rolled up in a side-pouch is always a handy thing to have.

And not that it ever rains or anything - but an emergency poncho is never a bad thing to have in your bag.

Occasionally Wyck will borrow a shower from a friend but when that's not available, these little babies can work wonders. Three or four and you're smelling like you just took a dip in a cucumber, melon, aloe salad - but you're mostly clean...er.

Hours of entertainment or emergency lighting source - you decide.

Test

Collage: Wykibago

2012-01-07T13:56:00.001-05:00

Wyck's infamous Wykibago.Though it's based off of the frame of a 1978 Winniebago Chieftan, the body is in surprisingly good condition. It managed to survive the Fall and was fairly easily patched back together with only the occasional, obvious repair on the sides.

The windows are covered with a thin wire grill that would make breaking in a bit difficult though not impossible if they had cutting tools to get past the metal.

The interior of the vehicle has been gutted and filled with a number of possessions that were found by Wyck on his travels with the Nomads across the midwest.

LIVING ROOM / KITCHEN

One of the couches by the table across from the sink have been replaced by a large purple, bean bag couch that's been repaired here and there to keep it one piece.
These two lamps hang down from the ceiling over the table in the main area of the RV to provided added light when needed.

The wall opposite the big purple couch - on the back of the wall behind the driver's chair, has a knotted owl wall-hanging. A gift from someone in Nor-Cal.

One of Wyck's prized possessions is that of the one-foot tall carved Buddha statue he got while up in Northern California. Carved from redwood it was a gift from a friend in the hopes that he would learn patience. The statue is kept on his table across from the front door near the purple couch.

The range and stove next to the sink has been augmented with a chimney pipe bolted to the wall and shunted out through the roof. Opposite it is another antique, an old ice box that uses -real- ice to keep things cold in it.
The gargoyle incense burner was a gift from a friend from when Wyck was back with the nomads. It's about a foot tall and made from concrete. It is positioned by the sink across from the purple couch.

BEDROOM
The green star curtain blocks the view from the living room / kitchen from the bedroom area.

The area that was two large couches that obviously folded down into a large bed is in mostly the same shape but the old mattresses have been replaced with a more modern futon pad. The whole area is closed off from the rest of the trailer by a large green sheet with a star at the center. The ceiling of Wyck's ship is covered in Christmas lights. It creates a warm glow effect like being under the stars or in a room with candles.

The infamous purple lantern of luv. This lantern hangs above Wyck's bed.

Brown Chicken Brown Cow Baby!

BACK
The back of the RV, which would have been the bathroom, seems to have been converted into a bit of a different purpose. Though there is a toilet there, the shower has been torn out and replaced by a set of shelves like a pantry.

FRONT

Whenever Wyck parks his ship somewhere he pulls the flamingo down from the side rack and sets it out front. It's sort of a calling card to let people know that he's home. When it's out he's around.

Now, most people would never think to torture a lawn gnome in such a way but Wyck has an evil side. All good ships need a 'something' out in front for good luck right? Wyck has anchored the gnome to the nose of the Wykibago and with the solar panel built into the lamp it actually can look cool; sorta.

This is a simple sheet that closes off the front of the ship from the main section so that there's some privacy when he's not driving.

What's a ship without a hula doll dancer on the dashboard. Everyone has to have their good luck companions - Wyck's just happen to be a guy in a grass skirt. Don't judge.

Character College: Martin Bishop

2012-01-05T21:12:00.002-05:00

Martin Bishop is Russell Blackwell's Foster sire.

Character Collage: James Macavoy

2012-01-05T21:08:00.003-05:00

James Macavoy is Russell Blackwell's sire; technically.

Click here for a sample of James' talent with a guitar.

Click here for another sample of James' singing talent.

Vault Rave - RP-LOG

2011-12-28T19:32:00.004-05:00

7/30/2010

The Vault - Sea of Damned Souls (NIGHTZONE)

This is an immense, cavernous room, and vastly crowded during its busy hours; flocking here from the time the sun dips below the horizon and until it rises at dawn are citizens from all walks of society - the goth-kid lounging against one of the twin staircase banisters; the woman in business attire at the cigarette vendor; the dapper gent checking his coat and fedora at the counter - they're all here.

Directly ahead of the entrance is an arched tunnel with rough-textured walls, the appearance of a cavern the desired effect. Lining the walls are patrons of the establishment: some fighting their way toward the dance floor; others fighting their way toward the door; more still choosing this as a place to talk and wait for a friend. On either side of the tunnel, the aforementioned staircases rise and curve from the ground to second floor. Dusky garnet-colored carpet covers each step; the banisters are left their natural, deep wood finish, save for a coat of lacquer to fend off daily wear and tear.

=====================================================================

Jason
Dr. Gross
Shodol
Rivi
Dusk
Celden
Wyck
Alyssa
Rebecca
=====================================================================
Off to one side, right by the entrance Alyssa and Rebecca are standing talking, looking over a flyer that Rebecca is holding. She folds it up and places it into the thin pocket of her skirt.

Celden 'slithers' into the Monolith, posing as a deformed, old man. A skull-topped cane made of ebony and black quartz clenched in his right hand. The skull itself is made of thick glass. The hideous male side steps into darkened corner near the entrance and eyes the others gathered with intense concentration.

Aly and Rebecca are hanging out near the entrance. Aly smiles at her friend and nods. "That's a good strategy," she agrees. "You want something to drink?"

"I guess it won't be bad to pick up some water, or some energy juice." Rebecca gives Aly a nod in reply then to her question. "Man I don't even know where one goes to get a drink, I haven't been in around here in ages." She glances around and notices Celden, since he's kind of hard to miss, a faint raise of one eyebrow and a glance towards Alyssa.

Aly takes Rebecca's hand and says, "Come on, let's go find a bar." She then pulls Rebecca off into the crowd, deeper into the club where the music is louder, base thumping through your chest in a steady techno beat. The area around the dance floor is dark, save for the flashing lights. The smells of alcohol, warm bodies, and more than one illegal drug fills the air. Aly and Rebecca find a bar and Aly moves up to it, getting a beer for herself and an energy drink for Rebecca. She hands the woman the bottle and smiles. "Her ya go, Sweetie," she calls over the music.

To prevent a repeat performance, security has ensured that no one walking into the Vault for tonight's party is bleeding, has small bombs strapped to their bodies or the like. What they're really concerned with is the financial status of those coming in. Do they look like they have money to spend? If so, they're allowed in. The music is pumping, the sound makes your teeth vibrate. The smell of sweaty bodies, synth-leather, fourteen kinds of cologne and perfume and sex fill the air.

Celden continues to stand 'sentry' beside the exit. He ignores the looks and sneers as his intent gaze wanders the ocean of patrons as if searching for someone. When he does scowl, it is not in response to any of the derogatory remarks regarding his appearance, no it is because the particular something, his quarry, is not present, "Dammit.. I hate ravens.."

Rebecca nods her head to Aly, glancing around the room at a few other things then she actually claps her hands together and does a little bounce hop something has her excited "Oh." She leans in and talks to Alyssa again then takes the other woman by the hand as the music starts thumping. "Come on, let's go..." to get drinks, because "I wanna dance."

Aly grins and sets her beer down on one of the tables, then heads out onto the dancefloor with Rebecca. She's graceful in her movements, even dancing to the hard techno beat, but she doesn't seem to have had any actual dancing lessons... it's just a natural fluidity. She's talking with Rebecca, smiling and nodding as they dance. Their words are drowned out by the crowd and the music.

Unseen. A new arrival makes their entrance into the rave. More attention is paid to the atmosphere and surroundings than the occupants at this time.

Celden taps his very expensive cane as if to show off to security that he is not poor and deserves to be here. One might wonder why his clothes are so ragged. However he does seem to fit in, considering that the garments are full of holes, he might be seen as a fringe culture member or some such. A seat is chosen at the bar, the social pariah finally coming into the black light. The bartender is hardly impressed, "You know what I want." The 'tender reaches beneath the counter and produces a label-less bottle of red liquid, twists off the cap, and extends the confection towards Celden, all the while never taking his eyes from the mutated 'creature.' Celden presses gray lips to the rim and gulps voraciously.

The music continues to churn as people thrust, grind and sweat to the heart-beat like music. Off to one side of the party, opposite the large Charon statue, is a rectangular dais built to raise an ornate throne off the ground. The dais is perhaps ten feet wide by twenty feet long - enough room so that someone could sit upon the throne and watch the comings and goings of the event. It appears to be the nerve center of the Rave as below and around the dais are men and women with data pads and lipstick mics

Upon the throne sits, for those who know him, Wyck. Gone is the cowboy goth motif and born a new in a simple black suit.

The two women can clearly pay their way into the joint. The perfect make up, the perfect outfits. They are the type that help sell Raves like this. Pretty girls who want to dance.

Rebecca makes her way into the crowd with Alyssa, with in moments her body is lost in the rhythm of the music. She lets the sound take over, move her like she's water in a stream. Tonight is a night to pray to the god of the dance, to let Bacchus have a chance at another taste of glory. As if a weight has been lifted from her, Rebecca becomes the music, the dance, flowing with the music, all her cares for the moment forgotten as the high of it all over takes her.

Emerging from a gathered group of people is Rivi. He peers from his one uncovered eye at the party at hand, a small smile featured upon his lips. The stones on his fingers gleam and shine as he reaches up to fix the front of his suit.

And dance Aly does. She moves on the floor with Rebecca, her neon green mesh top glowing under the black lights. She nods her head toward the throne and calls to Rebecca, "There's Wyck..."

Celden has already finished the bottle, a slight intoxication wearing off within seconds. A snort of disgust is emitted. All of these pretty things flaunting their perfect bodies. Nothing but lumps of fleshy husks in his opinion. Everything is hideous on the inside. The bestial horror grins at the lush women now, wondering which one he is going to take home to the sewers tonight.

Rebecca leans into Aly a bit, slowing in her dance, "This was a really good idea." Her face is glowing, and a big grin is on her face. She waves towards Wyck and tells Alyssa loudly, "Damn he actually looks really hot in a suit, but I would have gone for black instead of blue. Makes him look like a pimpister." She jokingly throws a little fake gang slang at Alyssa, laughs and goes back to dancing.

Aly laughs and nods. "All he needs is a big hat with a feather in it," she says. She waves toward the throne, though there's little chance she'll be seen in and amongst the crowd. "Maybe we should go say hi," she calls over the music.

He plays observer. Rivi hangs off to the side of the club and simply watches what happens and who does it. As one of club kids approach him asking for drugs he simply waves them off, he may look the part but at least for tonight he isn't holding.

Moving resolutely through the smokey, writhing tangle of slick limbs and thudding sound, Shodol pauses to look around at the scenery, expression flat, pasty-white and unchanging. The room is a dizzying kaleidoscope image of beating hearts and pulsing throats, and the creature takes its time in enjoying the scenery. Seeing the sights. Smelling the smells.

Rebecca shrugs her shoulders, "Okay." Actually it looks like she'd rather dance. She glances at the drug being passed around, and clearly snubs it with a disapproving glance. She does follow after Alyssa.

Aly waves off the dealers with the green vials. She takes Rebecca's hand and pushes her way through the crowd toward where Wyck is seated on his throne.

Celden snickers at the foolish wastes losing their minds, their sanity, and their lives. He can. and does, imagine what might be inside of the test tubes. But he won't assume anything, no one would be that crazy, or would they? His talons scrape across the bar as he creates a 'nails on chalkboard' effect which is drowned out by the bass booming. Blackened, rotted teeth become visible as a sinister grin spreads across his face.

The space around the 'throne' is a sea of aspirant Dj's wanting to get their mix heard. Some people are fielding requests, others listening to a sample of the mix to ensure that it would pass for tonight's party. Don't want Wayne Newton's greatest hits remixed with a club base track. The outcomes would be dangerous. As Aly and Rebecca approach the throne, Wyck turns his head to one of the two people who stand beside him. Immediately the man nods sharply and departs the 'stage' to step down and make a path for the two women to approach.

Dr. Gross enters the club. It's noisy and vastly crowded, and she makes use of pointy elbows to secure herself some room, a gloomy figure in black to match the decor, limping her way through the throng. She has a little black bag at her side. It's a purse, faux alligator, only she's glued a red cross sticker to it. As someone comes by carrying a test tube, she squints suspiciously at them, then holds out a bony hand.

Rebecca squeezes Aly's hand in order to keep from being parted from her companion, she gives an amused smile as the crowd parts and leans in to whisper something to Alyssa. She then smiles up at Wyck waving her free hand, "Quite a show you've got going here." She projects so he can hear her over the music.

Aly just shakes her head to whatever Rebecca said. She smiles as she moves up to Wyck. "Nice party," she calls over the music. "Congrats. Looks like a good turnout."

The flashing of lights causes the chameleon fabric of Rivi's suit to swirl in various colors. His eye turns towards Wyck as he steps down from the throne, seeing him currently occupied he pushes away from the wall and strolls out in to the mass of people. The offer of Myst is declined just as one of the clubbers on an early binge comes up and hangs on his shoulder while laughing hysterically. Rivi simply looks at her and heaves a sigh before shrugging her off and pushing further into the crowd.

Dr. Gross gives the Myst-seller a wary look and a few quick sniffs, not that scent is much of an improvement over sight and sound in this crowd. After hesitating, she digs into one of her many pockets and pulls out a small gray cred stick, which she fiddles with carefully, then hands over, pointing a finger at the vial.

Privately, Alyssa nods. "Water would be great," she says. "Quite a... diverse crowd here tonight," she comments. Her eyes, glowing red, blue, and green with her VR contacts, scan the room. "Even prepared, I still feel nervous."

Privately, Rebecca nods as well, "Water would be awesome." She pats Alyssa on the arm, "It will be fine. I doubt we have to really about trouble this time around?" She gives Wyck a look though.

The Myst-seller hands over one of the vials to Dr. Gross and turns to go about her business. She still has a fourth of a tray left and she's only made it a few feet away from where she started. The potency of the drink seems to be catching on as others are goaded into trying it as they dance.

Rebecca nods her head to something that Wyck said, and looks over the room with Alyssa before turning her attention back to the man on the throne. She pats her friends arm, like she's trying to reassure him, but at the same time seems to give Wyck a bit of a cautious once over.

On the dais, Wyck, Alyssa and Rebecca speak in close tones so as to be heard amid the crashing waves of sound. The 'guard' that collected them from the floor returns to his post beside the throne after having gathered some bottles of water for the guests. On either side of the throne two 'sitting stools' are brought out so that the women can sit and speak without having to kneel or bend over too much.

jason moves slowly through the crowd, a drink in each hand (held high to keep from spilling if he's jostled by other rave-goers) as he edges his way through. He glances at anyone especially interesting looking but for the most part he seems to be just moving from one end of the dance area to the other.

Shodol slowly descends through the sweaty press of flesh, the odors and excretions of a hundred different humans rubbing against its clothing and leathery skin as it moves past them. The creature maintains a facade of calmness as it endures the fluids and stenches of the frantic and fitful living, squeezing past them to stop at the bar. Where it leans forward, and beckons at a suddenly dazed bartender, who shuffles over and moves his head closer. The pale man places his face next to the others ear to be heard over the pounding music, and whispers in a voice thick with rot and malice. "The sprinkler systems. Where does your water supply connect to them?"

Alyssa smiles and nods to Rebecca. She takes the bottle of water, then sits on the stool provided.

Privately, Alyssa shakes her head as Rebecca pats her arm. "Probably not," she agrees. "Sorry, just feeling a little uneasy. When they aren't even taking steps to hide their appearances, it makes me wonder what they have in mind, is all."

Celden reasons that in the eyes of many of the clubbers, he probably looks like a supermodel. This idle, private joke is proven fact as a scantily dressed woman begins to lick his neck. Quite ironic considering Celdens 'life story.' The male lightly traces a dark talon across the top of her head and flashes another grin. The woman’s hallucination ends abruptly and she takes in the intoxicating terror in front of her. She screams, falls backwards, and reels towards Shodol, and might just collide with him should he not move out of the way..

The bartender, busy a he's ever been with all of these people, waves off the man's query about the water supply and simply waves him towards the man on the throne - not like he'd know such things about building maintenance.

Dr. Gross retrieves the small vial and peers at it. She doesn't drink it, she doesn't quaff it, she doesn't sip it. The vial is held under her nose, then it is held up to be seen through the glare of a strobe light, for a moment. Holding the thing carefully, close to her chest, the stooped young woman in black begins to hobble and nudge her way through the crowd to a darker, quieter corner.

Rebecca takes a bottle of provided water and cracks the top off it, lifting it towards their host in thanks, before taking a sip off it. She kind of rolls her eyes at Alyssa. Unlike her friend she doesn't sit, but rather falls back into the rhythm of the music, handing her water bottle towards Alyssa to hold on to so she's free to dance. Lucky for Wyck she's just the type of girl you'd want dancing up front. She mouths something at Alyssa.

Emerging from the other side of the crowd Rivi steps out not far from where security is keeping those back from the throne. Reaching into his pocket he withdraws a cred stick and hands it to one of the security guards as he whispers to him. A few moments later the guard nods and walks in the direction of Wyck. After the guard relays the message to Wyck a peace sign is flashed to the man by Rivi.

You paged Alyssa and Rebecca with 'Don't worry. I have taken precautions." His eyes subtly look skyward and those able to see beyond the thumping lights and speakers might see high-powered search lights fitted with UV emitters. Only a few of them because they're expensive, but possibly handy when the time comes. "You two should have a good time. Relax. What's the worst that could happen?"'.

A guard tells Wyck, "A man... Mr. Rivi would like to offer his congratulations to you for the success of your party. If you find time to speak with him he will be around for the night." After which he points out Rivi and pockets the cred chip.

Privately, Alyssa grins at Rebecca. "That's right. Just because you're not paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you," she says, winking. Wyck's statement makes her roll her eyes. "Famous last words," she says. "So what's the deal, Wyck? You were never a promoter before. Why the raves all of a sudden?" she asks.

Wyck answers simply, "Bait," and politely ushers them off stage as someone else needs a moment of his time.

Rebecca turns to study Rivi. Rebecca just smiles and continues to let the music move her. She waves at Wyck, "Have fun." And then taking Alyssa's hand (after freeing up her water) "Come on, just relax, we'll stay out of trouble." But she does lean into Alyssa and whisper something to her friend.

From up on the small stage, Wyck politely thanks the two women for their time and asks for his security to help clear a path so that they can leave. Eventually, once the people have been moved to the side, the next person, Rivi, is permitted to walk up the three our four steps to the 'throne'.

Aly smiles broadly then stands up as Wyck waves the two women off the stage. She waves to the man and takes rebecca's hand again, returning to the dance floor.

Upon receiving permission from the guards Rivi smiles and offers his thanks before heading up towards the throne. A hand is extended in the direction of Wyck as he bows his afro briefly in greeting, "Well on your way to King of LATMA..." He says with a bright smile revealing perfect teeth.

Rebecca hands off her water to a girl who really looks like she could use some while she and Alyssa continue their whispered conversation making their way back into the middle of the dance floor. It's easier not to be noticed talking when you are dancing close together. And so for the moment the women dance dangerously close.

Having been to one of these 'raves' before, Dr. Gross knows what to expect. She finds herself a quiet corner to lurk in, awkwardly hunched forward, and waits for interesting events to erupt, carefully setting her little black bag down on the floor for when it is needed. Then she studies the little vial again.

Someone collides with Shodol as he stands leaning over the bar. He turns quickly, a look of animalistic fury on his face at the sheer temerity of being purposely assaulted by one of the sheep. The panicking woman, her face turning towards him with her mouth fixed in an O of terror, reels back.

The pale man's lips writhe, and he utters a single venomous word. "Flee." The female's body stiffens, her face frozen a moment, and then she leaps back, tripping and falling to the floor. Feet kicking frantically under her, she pulls herself up and attempts to plow her way through the drug-addled mass of dancers, unintelligible words stuttering from her mouth.

Wyck speaks to the man that's come to pay him a visit, "Why thank you...sir?" He doesn't seem to recognize the face that much but there are a lot of people greeting him with praise tonight.'.

Mind you, the girls aren't really in the middle of the floor, they are a little way in front of the security line around Wyck. But well buffered from events happening on the edges of the crowd.

Celden can only 'hope' that the woman is kidnapped and murdered tonight. She is going to be his pet soon enough if she lives to see the end of this rave. The gnarled horror cannot help but grin. Perhaps tonight will yield him some pleasure after all.

After inspecting the little vial, Gross kneels and roots around in her bag, retrieving the cap from one of her own little vials that fits, more or less, over the vial of Myst, sealing the whole thing with some duct tape. Then she springs to her feet again, and burrows back into the crowd to bother another seller.

Security guards at the exit are alerted to the fleeing woman's panic-induced retreat. A pair of guys in the crowd instantly cease being part of the crowd and help her to the exit as though it were a practiced exercise. Without any outwardly visible sign of hostility, all they can do is remove the disruption and continue with the party.

"Crude." Rebecca says, but she shrugs her shoulders, stepping back and turning to face her friend "Come on, you where the one who told me I needed to lighten up, and now you are all..."

Aly scans the crowd as she dances with Rebecca. Her irises are rimmed with red, green, and blue light from her VR contacts, which fits in just about perfectly at the rave. She's smiling and nodding to Sarah, and the two are talking as they dance.

Jason catches sight of the girl being 'escorted' out. His brow furrows briefly as she's led by but after a few moments he grins and his lips move with an expulsion of breath. Probably a chuckle, though it's impossible to tell with all the other noise and confusion. He occasionally glances towards Wyck, who's so conspicuous up there, before moving across the floor again, both drinks still in hand and mostly full.

Rivi stands by the throne speaking with Wyck, the sound of the music making it impossible to make it out as they whisper back and forth.

The edges of the crowd, in a place such as this, are where people go to rest from the writhing mass of bodies at the center. With the amount of alcohol being consumed and sweated out, it's no wonder that people are starting to show signs of fatigue here and there. Some have chosen the immediate rush from a shot of Myst and so order another and another - keeping their body going as long as the music continues to beat stronger than their own withering lives. Here and there amongst the corners and 'save zones', some people have apparently taken a bit of a cat nap. Unable to or unwilling to will their bodies onward without a bit of rest to recharge them beyond what the glowing green elixir can provide.

Wyck notices Rivi thoroughly inspecting you before he leans in and replies, "We spoke on the phone, I was the one interested in promoting your parties." He adds, "You have got a good thing going here." He remarks before leaning back, his uncovered eye tracing your face.

"Lets dance." Rebecca is almost begging her friend to just move to the music. She holds on her hands for another moment and then lets them go. "I'm not drinking anything served in here tonight." She tells the other woman, and then takes a breath as if breathing in the beat. It moves through body, the limbs swaying to their own accord.

Celden shrugs softly. He could care less that the woman is gone. Searching for her location afterward will be a wasted effort and indeed is not worth his time. The Terror eyes Shodol with a grin, grateful that he isn't the only one who can take some semblance of pleasure in scaring mortal women.

Aly nods and slides against Rebecca, smiling. The two move to the thumping beat of the music, and Aly's smiling and laughing as they talk.

Dr. Gross corners a seller in some dark recess of the club and insists, creepily, on another vial of Myst, spindly fingers pointing and gesturing in grotesque ways, her wiry body agitated by a potentially infectious bout of cough. The seller is terrified, or at least mildly put off. Money is exchanged, and the pale woman returns to her chosen lurking spot. There, with a shifty glance around, she imbibes the content of the vial and stares around, head jerking rapidly from side to side, angular twisted figure twitching against the wall.

Shodol looks back at the creature returning the grin with an expressionless stare. He abruptly moves away from the counter, striding across the intervening space between them. A fluidly writhing woman with an expression of dazed bliss on her face pulls at his arm as he passes, and he takes hold of her hand in a cold bruising grip, dragging her with him to stop in front of Celden. "You." His words are difficult to make out over the throbbing music, and he speaks louder. "You, the dirty one. Assist me in finding the water system for the fire sprinklers." He speaks even louder as the current song takes on an annoying, pounding bass solo. "Hilarity will ensue."

Wyck glances up to Rivi while they're speaking. At the same time as the 'feeling' comes over him - Wyck's eyes darken to opalescent black pools. Just for a moment, his eyes turn shiny black, almost like a second set of eye-lids, and then back to normal.

Taking note of the eyes Rivi breaks into a smile and pats your (Wyck's) shoulder, "We all have secrets my friend, no judgment." He motions an arm out to the party, "Keep it up and we'll make you rule LATMA, I want you to talk with me as soon as you can. Just a talk, I expect no obligation."

The music continues to thrum. People continue to dance. Several of the Myst-sellers are making their third and fourth trips out into the crowd. Security has started to 'help' people outside who have crashed and passed out from too much 'fun'. What they do when they're outside is up to them or their friends.

Celden nods softly. There is no need for either himself of Shodol to exchange pleasantries, "What exactly do you have in mind friend?"

Though dressed for the occasion, Stuart really doesn't fit in here. He totally ignores the music as he walks towards the bar, easily weaving his way through people, and shoving them a bit when absolutely necessary. He arrives at the bar.

The shift in Rebecca is subtle, as if for a moment, a brief shattering of a second she went stiff. When she moves again her movements are a bit more calculated, as of she is now putting though into them. Her eyes begin to focus on a spot across the room. Only for a moment, before looking at Wyck and muttering to Alyssa.

The 'King' nods to Rivi from up on the stage, their conversations seemingly having been concluded. Standing from his Throne, Wyck straightens his jacket and mutters something to the guards beside him as he seems to be taking a break from being on public display. Must be all that water he's drinking.

A parting salute is given by Rivi as he steps down from the throne area and wanders back into the crowd. The man in the chameleon suit strolls past the people dancing, his eye taking particular interest in those under the influence of Myst.

Rebecca glances over her shoulder at Wyck, a look of concern on her face. Alyssa has to tug her along, she stumbles, but doesn't fall, still watching Wyck. She doesn't think to mask the worry on her face.

Whatever the Myst does, it's agitating Dr. Gross in a corner. She doesn't dance, not as such, but she does rock rather rapidly back and forth where she stands, hands distractedly scratching all over herself. Her swollen eyes are open wide, face held up, jaw a little slack as she stares at all the glowing and shifting lights.

>As Security begins to remove people that have fallen asleep from the club, others start to drift into slumber here and there. The gathering of people at the center of the room grows thinner and thinner. The rave seems to be winding up hours before it was intended but people find themselves sleepy beyond measure and the Myst isn't keeping them as awake as they had hoped. They start to leave by ones and twos here and there leaving those people that they met to sleep it off for a while in a quiet corner.

Aly's dragging Rebecca toward the door. She's looking back at you as well, though, as she fights her way through the crowd.

The music is just too loud, and Shodol hesitates, pulling the giggling female closer to him. There are too many people moving and shouting and laughing and dancing. His clothing and skin are covered in human excretions and human perfumes from the jostling crowd. His body temperature rises as the stifling heat of the surroundings warms his dead flesh, a detestable and unnerving sensation. Like dying in reverse. And for some reason he's starting to get tired. A glance back at Celden. "Never mind." He stares with a disgusted look around him. "Hilarity will have to wait." He yanks on the female, who for some reason is starting to doze in his grip. He lets her drop on the floor, then begins to stalk towards the exit.

Rebecca stops short, making Alyssa stop or leave her behind. She whispers fiercely to her friend, pointing back over her shoulder towards Wyck. She nods her head to something the other woman says, as if in agreement. "I will." And then heads for the door. She stops just at the entrance, turning around to see Alyssa's progress, and where Wyck is as well. She does give Rivi a brief glance, frowning a bit, but turns back to track her friends.

Jason slows in his wandering as the crowd thins out. Suddenly able to move much faster, he instead pauses for a few moments. Finally he jerks into motion again, turning to follow a pair of girls towards the outskirts of the crowd. But while they continue on to leave the party altogether, Jason veers off towards one of the bars. At the end of the line, he turns and glances around at the remaining crowd.

The thinned crowd is noted as Rivi turns and begins moving back further in the club straight past the groups heading out. He seems to be headed to a particular destination...

Aly nods to Rebecca and sends her toward the door, then turns and starts pushing her way back toward Wyck. She has to fight the crowd a little, and fishes out her cell phone as she moves.

Celden nods slowly, wondering still why tiredness had begun to creep up. He had spoken too soon. The tiredness has come back, although there is no telling how long it will be before he drops to the ground in slumber. What could possibly be this potent?

From the ground level, Wyck's a bit harder to single out than before, but the people still dance in the center, oblivious as to what's happening to the others who 'just can't take it'. The supply of Myst is checked and the larger containers and the small pellets of dry ice used to create the fog haven't been tampered with. Wyck withdraws a pair of sunglasses and dons them as several people look to him for their instructions. Could it be a reaction to the drink or something else. Either way, someone's screwing with his party.

Aly fights her way through until the crowd starts to thin, then she moves up to Wyck and takes a hold of his arm. She speaks quietly into his ear.

Celden can hardly stay awake now. His eyelids are heavy, threatening to jam shut any second. Not wanting to be handled by the guards, he slowly drags himself through the crowds, finding a dark corner to slump down into. He invokes the shadows, which cloak around him in a cold embrace. In the eyes of those gathered, he is gone.

Rivi looks to Alyssa and holds up a hand for her to stop, his eye turning to Wyck, "The fuck... You need to watch yourself." He says to the man, his gaze briefly moves back to Alyssa, "You a friend of his?"

The rush of energy suddenly leaves Dr. Gross, her bewildered eyes start to slide shut under heavy eyelids. Struggling, she blinks them open, forcefully, and forces herself to stay on two feet, bending down jerkily to retrieve her bag, head shaking rapidly from side to side as she attempts to fight off the drowsiness, gaze turning towards the exit.

Alyssa nods to Rivi. "Yeah. My other friend is worried, wants me to get him out of here. What the hell is that?" she asks, referring to the mojo that's making everyone go loopy. "Whatever it is, it seems to be coming from your grim reaper over there," she says, jerking her head toward the statue of Charon.

Celden loses his shroud as the slumber conquers him. It was his last hope to remain unseen but alas, he cannot hold such a cloak while asleep.

As people doze left and right around him, Shodol moves quickly towards the exit, a snarl fixed on his face. Looking this way and that, searching the strobe-infested depths of the room for signs of hidden assailants, he takes hold of a staggering female, propping her up into a painful standing position. "You. We're going to your apartment. We're going to commit intercourse multiple times and pursue a meaningful relationship together. Call us a taxi." The woman just smiles sleepily, and he pulls her towards the exit.

Rebecca still lingers at the door. She steps aside for Dr. Gross, but seeming to feel that whatever had caused the alarm has passed she is reluctant to leave her friends behind. Indecision pulls at her, keeping her firmly planted. Then out of the corner of her eye she noticed a shape that she thought was a shadow before. Rolling her eyes, and throwing up her hands she makes her way over to Celden. Kneeling next to him she shakes him firmly. "Mister mister wake up..." She mutter something under her breath.

Celden awakens from sleep abruptly. Something has awakened him. His gaze travels to Rebecca, "Who the Hell are you?"

Whatever is going on around him, seems like Stuart just wants a drink. He orders one before watching the various bits of eye candy around the room.

"You need to wake up, and get out of here right now." Rebecca instructs firmly pulling him up. "Right now. We don't have time to talk about it... look your friend is leaving." She motions towards where Shodol is vanishing.

Celden scowls and curses something inaudible. How could he have been so foolish? Sleeping here? Damnable! He drags himself up and begins to head toward the exit.

Alyssa nods to Rivi and takes a firm hold on Wyck's arm. "Come on, we're leaving," She says to him, and starts pulling him toward the exit.

Wyck is literally caught between Rivi and Alyssa's grip; the two having words for him and gripping his arms tightly to ensure that they can have his full attention as they speak. Deciding that now is the best time to be elsewhere and let the clean up crew deal with those who are sleeping it off, Wyck turns to leave as patron near Celden spies his true visage and lets out a blood-curdling scream.

Rivi steps away and let's Alyssa march off with Wyck, his uncovered eye watches them exit before he turns and begins to head for the restrooms.

Celden dashes from the club, shoving a limping, but tired raver out of the way.

Alyssa gets a tighter hold on Wyck as he starts screaming like a little girl. She continues pushing him toward the exit. Her eyes widen as she sees Rebecca by Celden. As Celden leaves Rebecca's side, Aly shakes her head and pulls Wyck over in her direction so she can shepherd Rebecca out as well. "You were supposed to be gone already," she scolds the woman as she reaches her. "Come on."

Security guards continue to try and get people who have dozed off to stand up and leave. Sometimes they have to carry them, others they just have to poke a few times. Friends try 'back-packing' their comrades out in the usual fireman position, others try and manage as best they can. Still, there must be two dozen sleeping forms stashed all around the perimeter of the room as the rave starts to wind down to a crawl.

Wyck leaves with Aly, having instructed one of his helpers to stay until the party is cleaned up.

Celden's 'friend' turns back briefly to glare at the room, where the bass pounds and the strobe lights flash eerily over the sleeping bodies of ravers. He then whaps his female companion on the back of the head to keep her awake and moves out into the night.

"Sorry." Rebecca tells Alyssa, "I just couldn't leave you here, you know that." She heads out with her friends, letting Alyssa Shepard her out to safety of the streets.

"Is that an insect bite? Sleeping sickness is unusual at this latitude." Gross wheezes here and there as she elbows and pushes her way through the crowd towards the exit.

Jason blinks a few times as if to clear his head, staring as the rave seems to be winding down, in the most peaceful unravelike ending possible. He notices Dr. Gross heading towards the exit, expression at first flat and then thoughtful. He looks at Celden and the others, then begins drifting towards the exit as well.

Ice-Rave RP-Log

2011-12-28T19:22:00.002-05:00

ICE RAVE 8-9-10

Janet
Shodol
Jason
Alyssa
Bruteus
Hannah
Chione
Eris
Zero
Lillian
Rivi
Merysta
Neferet
Axiom
Lazlo
George

San Pedro - NXX Processing Plant - Loading Docks
The loading docks are a bustle of activity day and night, with eighteen-wheelers and other trucks pulling up and pulling out almost constantly. Three bays are set up in front of the huge roll-up doors that lead into the processing plant, at least one of them occupied at any time. Set further away from the plant itself is a tiny island of dying grass that surrounds a wooden picnic table, probably where the employees go for their smoke breaks and to take a lunch, when the weather is nice enough, or for drivers to stretch their legs while their trucks are being emptied or filled.
A security gate leads out to the street, nestled between twelve-foot high walls of cement, topped with razor-wire. A pair of rent-a-cops can be seen at the gate itself, with another wandering the inside perimeter at random intervals.

The theme for the rave is ice. It being only a day or two after Christmas, the break from the heat waves that plague the LATMA area is an experience that many have been looking forward to all week. The refrigerated room is permeated with blasts of cold air to keep the columns of ice from melting too quickly. Lights embedded within ice bar and towers pulse in synch with the music as people mingle here and there in semi-winter wear.

Guests of the rave are given gifts as they enter. Usually small and easily fit into a pocket, the gift is a small glass orb with snowflakes etched all over its surface. Twisting the ball in half opens it to reveal a random prize. Sometimes a coupon for a free drink at a local bar, one night free at the Lynwood Inn, a fine green powder of unknown origin, or even a micro cred-stick with various amounts.
The theme for the rave is ice. It being only a day or two after Christmas, the break from the heat waves that plague the LATMA area is an experience that many have been looking forward to all week. The refrigerated room is permeated with blasts of cold air to keep the columns of ice from melting too quickly. Lights embedded within ice bar and towers pulse in synch with the music as people mingle here and there in semi-winter wear.

Someone screams out "AVALANCHE" from the side of the ice bar. Patrons nearby turn and position themselves so that they might drink a shot of some kind of alcohol as it is poured through a large block of ice that has been hollowed out with maze-like chambers. The block is nearly six feet long and the bartender must climb onto a ladder to pour the red liquor down from the top.

Bar maids in scantily clad 'Eskimo' costumes wander here and there in the ice-rave offering shots of various forms of alcohol and Myst in shot glasses made of ice. Common mixed drinks include vodka and raspberry, vodka and lemon, and Vodka and cherry. Straight drinks are Whiskey and Rum.

Janet's had the jackets hood hiked up over her head to keep her ears warm. With hands buried deep in the pockets she walks carefully about scared of an ass-up that is going to leave her skull-cracked on the ground.

Hannah has dressed up for the ice theme, white and silver and blue, from her clothes to her hair and choice of cyberoptics display colour. She walks quietly through the crowd, smiling as she takes in the decoration and her fellow ravers, though there's something forced about the smile, her face too tense and taut. Wandering past a waitress, she reaches over with silver fingertips to pick an ice glass, vodka and lemon.

With all the bodies present within the refrigerated room, the temperature is going to feel modestly cool but not frigid. Still, for those born and raised in Southern California anything under seventy would probably be considered uncomfortable. A few souls have dropped their jackets around the edge and have begun generating their own heat out on the dance floor, enjoying the cool breezes against any exposed skin.

Upon being offered the Myst there is a shake of Rivi's head, "Nah..." He remarks with a bit of a chuckle. The man wearing the eye patch continues to spot out those through the room, Lillian is given extra attention as he offers a brief salute in her direction before turning his attention elsewhere.

The music continues to thump and the lights flash within the ice around the room. Every hour or so, a pair of "Santa's Helpers" walks through the club and begins a rather erotic dance against one of the ice columns that's sure to get most mens attention.

Lillian, grinning, salutes Rivi right back though the seriousness of the gesture is somewhat hobbled by her hopping up and down on a blinky-light covered pogostick. She proceeds into the thick of things, one hop at a time, looking rather self-satisfied with her perch. The waitstaff seem to think better of approaching her lest she tip their trays with her bouncing.

Rivi stands up and rolls his shoulders a few times as he seems to be getting into the music. Peering through his "one good eye" he breaks into straight dance and he's actually not bad. The chameleon suit shifts colors with his movements as the red boots move across the floor like something straight out of Footloose... well maybe not that far but you get it.

The music dies down for just a moment and then shifts to a new beat. Guest DJ's take over from time to time to show off their skills to local promoters. This selection sounds something like this:

[OOC:Click here for Rave Music playing in the background.]

Jason appears late at the sight of this latest rave, peering around for a few faces he's seen before and then going to find a bar. He gives the block of ice a long, speculative look but ends up getting a bottle of something more conventional looking.

Hannah's dancing is restricted to a subtle shaking of her head from side to side, and careful timing of her steps to the beat as she wanders about the warehouse, a spacewoman exploring an ice planet. She drinks her vodka and lemon, then discards the ice glass onto a passing waitress's tray, picking up another. This one is raspberry rather than lemon, but the presence of vodka ensures continuity.
Set.

Janet kinda hangs around the edge of the rave a little wallflower mannerism showing through as her head keeps down. Its almost as if she doesn't want to be seen but some part of her wants to socialize. One of the blocks with a big fur on it becomes her seat and she watches on nervously.

Whatever era Rivi learned to dance it definitely wasn't this one. He has moves but ones that fit lines of cocaine and bad Travolta flicks. Regardless he gets into it, the afro flopping around to the music as he moves around the dance floor.

Lillian continues to hop around on her light-up pogostick at the ice rave. At one point, she nearly topples over one of Santa's Helpers, but deftly hops backwards, lifting the stick up and over as she somersaults into a back flip and resumes hopping as before. Thank goodness for the high ceilings of old warehouses out in the docks. The multicolored ice-drink display catches her attention, and she goes back to bouncing in place with more controlled hops.

Bruteus makes his way through the doors and into the rave itself. He fades into a corner and seats himself, watching the others dance.

After two vodka mixes, Hannah is still standing quasi-motionless near the dance floor. Another waitress intercepts the spacewoman, and she leans over to trade a few words, voices rising to be heard over the beat, but not to go far. She points a spidery silver finger at a shot glass of Myst, then picks it up, scans it with glowing white eyes, and downs the thing in a single go with her head thrown back.

Shodol pads through the entrance, a blast of cold air sending bits of frosty ice to collect in his coat and hair. Looking out over the dance room with an unblinking stare, inhaling deeply. The smell of the collected writhing masses, packed together, frantically moving and laughing and dancing. The amassed herd draws predators, and so the large man walks in. Mingles. Makes himself at home.

Jason drifts through groups of dancers, pausing to leer at a few particularly interesting looking women (or men, apparently he's not picky). He occasionally gets bumped, spilling bits of his drink, but never seems to get too worked up, instead just nodding amiably at whoever bumped him as he moves on.

Hands fly in random directions, afro bounces with the shake of his head, all the while Rivi looks to be doing something that resembles disco. Either way he moves and he doesn't seem to give a fuck what the others think.

Entering after Security searches her, the petite pale young woman looks around. (despite desc) Eris is dressed in a Alice in wonderland type dress, but it's clear plastic mixed with layers of silver shimmering micro-silk. Her legs in a palor of silvery thigh highs. Her hair pulled back and decorated with silver shimmers as well. She picks her way into the crowd in her clear plastic mary janes, her silver painted lips pressed in a bee stung pout.

With all the bodies present within the refrigerated room, the temperature is going to feel modestly cool but not frigid. Still, for those born and raised in Southern California anything under seventy would probably be considered uncomfortable. A few souls have dropped their jackets around the edge and have begun generating their own heat out on the dance floor, enjoying the cool breezes against any exposed skin.

"I get the feeling the cold and the furry suits are being appreciated by the guy." Janet says to no one in particular. It just makes her own shoulders ride up and herself feel all the colder. A few of the dancers can't help but be a spectacle and she's not talking about the column shimmiests. So she watches the jerky movement and all too suave steps wondering if she can pick up a move or two.

Chione enters in the main doorway and gets searched by security briefly before she passes on through. Her first glances around at how other people are dressed draw her closer to the walls to stand out of the way to observe. It's so much colder here than she imagined so eventually she has to push away from the wall when she sees someone she recognizes and makes her way over to Bruteus sitting at his own table.

The music dies down for just a moment and then shifts to a new beat. Guest DJ's take over from time to time to show off their skills to local promoters. This selection sounds something like this:

[OOC: Click here for background music]]

Eris meanders away from the crowds, drinking in the people with her pale eyes and her lips part in a slight oh pout. She slinks towards a small out of the way spot to continue her voyeuristic enterprise. The timid young woman hugging herself in her out of the way corner. She takes the shots given her with barely a glance at them. Her eyes only for the pulsing mass of flesh dancing to the new beat. She downs her shots and sets them aside, moving a little in her chosen little spot.

Bruteus smiles at Chione as she approaches, and hopes she can hear him over the music, "Quite a strange place this is! I have never seen so many.. colors!"
From afar, Hannah might be a regular buyer. Rolling +1 for blood filters, though, unless it magically bypasses that?

Chione can hear him well enough when he raises his voice. She nods to him with a smile and then touches some ice along the chair resting beside him. Instead of sitting on it and freezing her ass off she slides an arm around Bruteus and settles down on the edge of his chair. Her lips press to his ear where she tells him something beneath the tone and rhythm of the playing music.

Immersed in a clump of hopped-up men and women in neon clothing, jerking around in whatever ridiculous dance style is practiced in 2043, Shodol is a stone-faced statue entwined in blurring movement and sound. He does not get down with his bad self. He does not put his hands in the air. He seemingly cares. An icy blast from the vents sends flecks of frost to coat his one eye in glittering ice. He continues to stare unblinkingly at some distant point in the room.

Wyck finally makes his appearance to the Ice Rave. Still attempting to change his original 'street-witch' image to that of a club promoter, he's shifted out of the leather jacket and into something more professional. A navy-blue suit jacket of the finest micro-wool fibers hugs his shoulders comfortably. Walking through the crowd without a care in the world, he shakes as many hands as he pats asses.

The music dies down for just a moment and then shifts to a new beat. Guest DJ's take over from time to time to show off their skills to local promoters. This selection sounds something like this:

[OOC: Click here for background music]

Bruteus smiles at her and responds, "I have. Actually I don't mind it so much. If you are cold I will do my best to warm you."

Janet opens up the present she had buried in her pocket. Not a second thought had been given about it until the paper is pealed back. Shock freezes her expression before disgust irritates her to moving. Storming to a rubbish bin she searches for the culprit that 'planted' whatever it was she got amongst the goodies.

A nod of recognition is given to Wyck as he passes Rivi who continues on in his dance. A couple of girls quacked out on chemicals have clung to the chameleon suited man as they dance around the disco outburst. One of the girls reaches for Rivi's orb which has been kept in his hand and opens it up while laughing, not from the contents inside but rather the drugs she is on. Handing Rivi a piece of paper he looks over his free night at the Lynwood Inn... how ironic. He passes it back to the girl and insists she keep it before continuing on in his dance.

Chione pulls out her glass orb and shakes it in front of Bruteus. "In time, yes." She tells him while examining the gift given to her by the people at the front door. Other people seem to be opening theirs up and she mimics someone at a side table to twist hers open. Green powder! A brow lifts as she looks at Bruteus, not sure what to do with it.

Lillian continues to bounce in small hops on her pogo-stick, now near the periphery of the crowd. She looks up at the DJ station and seems to consider something. Her expression exhibits... nefarious intent. She eventually bounces off, pogo-stick now under her arm. The blinking lights on her chew toy and body fade, as if they'd run out of battery simultaneously. And without further ado, the girl has vanished into the pulsating swarm of the living.

Hannah stands at the edge of the dance floor after trying the Myst. She looks at the ice glass carefully held in her metallic fingers, then out across the crowd. She doesn't dance, yet, but her eyes begin to flicker with the beat, white and ice blue pulsating on and off. The nearest people get a long once-over, and her tight face seems to relax slightly. At the same time, her body stiffens, then breaks into dance. She's not good at it, her moves consist of stepping from side to side, bobbing her head, and jerk her arms up and down as if she's running, but she's really into her limited repertoire, and she's inhumanly fast at it.

Bruteus snickers before leaning in to whisper to her..

The music dies down for just a moment and then shifts to a new beat. Guest DJ's take over from time to time to show off their skills to local promoters. This selection sounds something like this:

[ooc: click here for background music]

It could have been anyone. The reality cuts like a knife into Janet. Fear whitens the outer rims of her eyes and she begins to head towards the exit. The hood tugged tighter over her head arms rigid across her body. "It was a mistake. A damned mistake." again and again she mutters profanities along with her angry words trying to heat herself with the fact.

Wyck slides in and through the crowd as though he were sliding on ice. Finally pausing to duck behind the frosty, LED-infused bar, he whispers a few things here and there to his staff.

Zero deposits the door prize into this pocket for later use, and looks up to the scene ahead of him. He winces at the lighting effects, and drops his view to the floor as he moves forward into the area. He moves past the ravers as quickly as possible towards the far side of the area. He finds what secluded spot is available, and continues his observation from there. He doesn't seem to react much to the music, and seems generally out of place.

Chione is leaning against the edge of Bruteus' chair. They are sitting at a table closest to the entrance way and she is shaking her head no to Bruteus. Her snowflake ball is still open and she's examining the mysterious green powder in it. One finger dips in it and she offers it to Bruteus to ... try.

Bruteus shrugs, licking the powder from her finger, amazed at himself for doing such a thing in public, "Hmmm.. I don't feel anything yet."

Alyssa pushes her way into the crowded rave, dressed in leather tonight. She doesn't bother depositing her coat, given the temperature in the place. She moves to the ice bar, waves to Wyck behind it as she sees him, then orders a bottle of beer.

Hidden from mundane view, Lillian proceeds towards the DJ station from the edge of the crowd. Closing within a few feet of the raised platform, she easily avoids the security, taking up a spot over the DJs shoulder, behind one of the larger speakers.

Someone screams out "AVALANCHE" from the side of the ice bar. Patrons nearby turn and position themselves so that they might drink a shot of some kind of alcohol as it is poured through a large block of ice that has been hollowed out with maze-like chambers. The block is nearly six feet long and the bartender must climb onto a ladder to pour the red liquor down from the top.

Another enters the rave, a being of grace and timeless beauty. Neferet is accompanied by two men in fine suits, the coffee to her cafe au lait complexion. Raven curls dance at her shoulders as the woman's gaze moves over the crowd and the slightest of smiles curls one corner of her lips into what might be deemed as a mischievous grin. Glancing at the two men with her, a dismissive wave is given and they find a table to quietly observe from as the dark lady begins to mingle.

Looking down at his hands, Shodol stares at the little orb he got from the meat at the door. Holding it up, he frowns, eying the pretty little nicknack. Exerting some slight pressure, pulverizing the fragile container, he then examines his prize. A little metal button, yellow, with a smiley face on it. He stares at the smiley face. It stares back with its empty abstract smile. He frowns and crumples the button into a wrinkled ball, then turns to his side.

An underage girl who snuck into the proceedings flails about in a happy stoned stupor. She feels a sharp poke on her shoulder, and looks up to see a pale, unpleasant man looking down at her. "You. Give me your ball." She opens her mouth to tell the strange man to blow off, then stops, face hanging open. With a mournful expression she gives him her prize, then shuffles off. Shodol then cracks this one open, and receives a much more favorable prize. Ten nuyen!

Zero moves his gaze over some of the more obvious ravers in the area, deciding that his position leaning against a far ice column is secluded enough for his people watching activities.

A thick, inky blackness explodes from the DJ station, engulfing the blue and white lights, the crowd near the stage, and even the large block of ice glowing with liquor is suddenly no more than a black blob. Inside that eighty-foot-radius black blob, there is chaos, as those within find themselves suddenly blinded. From

Chione looks at Bruteus waiting to see if he's going to croak on the mystery powder before she tries it herself. "Is sugar?" She only licks the residue off her finger before closing the pretty snowflake ball and then suddenly turns her head to see where the blue and white lights went.

Bruteus smiles at Chione, "I am starting to feel.. awake. Do you feel lit Chione?"

Zero notices what seems to be some pretty nifty special effects coming from the DJ area. He takes a break from watching those dancing, and focuses on that area. He remains against his column, arms crosses, waiting to see if the light show starts back up in a blast of music.

The appearance of the inky black blob of...smoke was something that the dancers weren't ready for. One corner of the ice rave decides to suddenly be elsewhere and be damned to anyone who gets in their way. Others, farther from the DJ booth, now enjoying the effects of Myst, stare at it confusedly with a stupid, slack-jawed grin on their face.

Wyck, having bent his head behind the bar for a moment, doesn't see the event and the music may deafen its effects if only for a moment or two.

Hannah is gracelessly into the beat, all enthusiasm and hyper-focused reflexes, no skill or flexibility in that slightly pudgy body, too tightly sheathed in silver, now pushing deeper into the crowd to grind and bounce. Her eyes flicker sharply, color and intensity changing to match the light show, until the light show turns black. Her eyes dim down to black reflective lenses, and her dancing stops for a heartbeat.

Chione suddenly starts to laugh at Bruteus. "Lit. It is minty like cold winter." With her arm wrapped around the back of his neck she pushes in to sit on his lap now instead of the edge of his chair. She leans in to whisper to him with her lips pressed to his ear.

Cutting through the crowd like a knife, Neferet pauses when darkness appears, turning her gaze on the sudden inky black. Now the chaos. The mocha skinned woman frowns her displeasure, but continues on her path toward the table where Chione and Bruteus are sitting. Just as she breaks the mass of people her eyes witness the licking of strange green powder/residue and delicate brows arch briefly. Then she is upon them, peering down.

Seeming to flourish in the pitch black, Lillian moves quickly to the control booth, easily knocking an idle security out of her path, and the DJ as well. The large cloud of thick, insurmountable darkness gives her ample room to work, as the mortals onstage and near it have suddenly lost their primary sense. She takes control of the mixer and switches it over to P.A. mode, abruptly silencing the beat.

"DANCERS. PARTIERS. DRUGGIES AND DRUNKS. PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR THE ULTIMATE HIGH." The words reverberate coldly against the walls, as the last echoes of music are suddenly cut short. "THE COLD EMBRACE OF DEATH WILL SET YOU FREE." After these words, Lillian smashes her fist into the mixer, though that cannot be seen, the feedback screams through the still hot speakers.

Arriving late (but apparently just in time for the special effects) Lazlo steps from the doorway of a recently arrived shuttle bus. His eyes rake the crowd, taking notice of the strange black...substance uncoiling at one corner of the dance floor.
You paged Alyssa with 'No, just the DJ booth.'.

Bruteus grins, feeling the same way, "Really now? And how do I feel?"

Axiom walks in to the edge of the rave, curious. He is rather low key and looking around, mildly dancing to the music. Wearing just a white shirt and jeans he notices the substance in the corner as well but watches for now.

Zero winces, turns his head and covers his ears from his position against a column. He decides that this isn't the party he thought it was going to be, and moves further away from the DJ booth. He starts to look for exits....areas above him, and anyone that might get in his way. He turns his gaze over his shoulder as he continues to on, keeping a watchful eye on the source of the sonic attack.

Pausing in his dance finally Rivi looks up as the mixer is smashed. His jaws bulge as he grits his teeth, the eye burning as it looks towards the partier gone mad. The chameleon suit shifts colors as he immediately begins heading in her direction.
Eris is off in her quiet little corner. Her little glass ball tucked away. The Darkness doesn't reach her and her head lowers a bit causing pale locks to swing forward around her delicate doll still face. She takes in the strange black substance, the shadowy smoke, the sudden scream on the speakers and her brow lofts just slightly. She steps back more into the shadows and waits, a little snarl escapes her and her hands go over her ears. Her pale eyes turn to the form of the woman causing the ruckus.

Do we laugh? Is this another Rave-stunt? Many guests of the rave aren't exactly sure what to do. The announcement over the sound system could just be the beginning of a new trance mix. Even with the silence of the music, several women continue to dance and the men near them continue to flirt. It would seem that there's plenty of confusion to go around.

LillianOBF seems to be the center of attention, but is utterly imperceptible, due to a swath of impenetrable blackness. Having destroyed the DJ booth to her satisfaction, she slips away to the corner of the stage, still engulfed in the unnatural dark.

Merysta was walking in when she notices the black cloud. She narrows her eyes and stays as far away from it as she can.

Chione looks up as Neferet is now close enough to be peering down at herself and Bruteus. She reaches both hands up and grabs a hold of Neferet's arms to pull her closer. The snowflake ball of green mysterious powder is given up to her in silent offering with a smile.

Eris shakes her head at the sound and the pale creature moves from her corner and started delicately picking her way towards the exit.

Shodol looks up, an irritated expression momentarily flitting across his hollow features as darkness envelops him. The crowd jostles around him sluggishly, panicked, their limbs heavy and their muscles suddenly freezing up in the shadowy embrace of the unnatural dark. Screams and shouts and hysterical laughter seem to come from far away, swallowed up in thick suffocating un-light as drug-addled humans continue to dance and contort and drown in the darkness.

Lazlo steps away from the shuttle, suddenly conscious of being in the likely path should a stampede erupt. Moving about the fringe of the crowd he starts to look for a speaker and the cables leading to it, a plan beginning to form in the back of his mind.

"Show me death..." Rivi exclaims through the darkness, the agitation in his voice is quite evident. He follows the edge of the darkness his eye scanning anything and everything he passes, it's obvious he's not happy at all.

Axiom looks with concern but hasn't done anything yet. He grabs a near by beer and relaxes against a lamp post. He watches and listens. The music is good at the least.

Bruteus wraps his arms around Chione and pulls her back to him after she hands over her drug, "Where are you going darling?"

The darkness seems contained around the DJ booth. The electronics that control the LED's embedded around the room don't seem affected but they're no longer pulsating.

Hannah is one of the confused crowd, resuming dancing after the black cloud shows up, interrupting it again at the feedback following the announcement. Still pumped, she stumbles as a few elements in the crowd around her begin to push and jostle away from the epicenter of panic, then begins to scan the warehouse, dazedly studying the reactions of others.

Zero back peddles as he reaches the furthest parts of the rave area, looking up to what seems a still functioning light away from the immediate area of the DJ booth. He stops, determines that this is a safe distance to figure out what's going on. In front of him, confusion....concentrated darkness in one area, and a lack of music from what seems a recently destroyed set of turn tables. He's heard of dramatics before, but this seems to have gone too far.

Stepping closer to Chione as she is drawn in, Neferet peeks down at the orb placed in her hand. She studies it a moment, then the pair sitting there. Her gaze settles on Bruteus of the pair, burning and displeased suddenly. No words come forth just now, instead turning to watch and see what happens with the rave that is quickly spiraling out of control.

Aly sets her beer aside on the bar for a moment and pulls out her phone. She links it up to her holocomputer and taps a few keys , then shuts down the computer and puts the phone away. She picks up her beer again and starts looking around, scanning the darkness in particular.

Zero looks around his immediate area, as if something suddenly came to him. He reaches in his pocket, pulls out his unopened gift orb and throws it down on the ground. He picks up his boot and grinds the heel into it's glassy surface.

Eris quietly slips to the side, she's not super attractive, active, drunk or high, and she's got a little annoyed looking pout on her features. She moves over to a wall and tilts her head..

Rivi heads up towards the DJ's booth, arms outstretched to push people out of his way as he does so.

Merysta remains where she is leaning against one of the walls watching the darkness and listening to the noise, sudden lack of music. She studies the people as they pass by.

Lazlo finds a speaker and the connecting audio cable and quickly sets to work. On the fringes of the chaos any confusion his actions are unlikely to be noticed as he unplugs the cable and fishes a small electronic device from the recesses of his jacket. Patching the cable into the electronic device he rapidly taps the screen, configuring subsonic audio signals and subliminal patterns for the flashing lights, attempting to override any panic reactions that may be spreading with feelings of elation.

Wyck starts walking towards the inky blackness but with everyone trying to keep from touching it and moving around in a rather hap-hazard fashion, he's forced to skirt the edge of the refrigerated room they're in and come up from the back.

Chione wishes the music would start up again! She seems about to say something to Neferet but then she is pulled back by Bruteus and she grins. Whatever is happening all around them she doesn't seem concerned about it in the least. "I want to dance. Where is the music?"

Zero lifts up his boot, and looks down to the remains of his gift orb. Green dust mixes in with the glass particles on the floor. The bottom of his boot wears a mixture of both materials as well. He stomps his boot in place a couple of times to knock off any remains, and backs away with almost a growl.

Eris fiddles with something.. And then turns, pressing back against the wall and breaks open her ball. She pulls green powder out and sniffs at it. Doll eyes staring at the people in the rave.

Bruteus says to Chione, "I am not sure.. it would seem that someone has.. canceled it for now yes? It should be back so darling."

Shodol emerges from the inky darkness, absently waving a hand in front of his face, frowning irritably. A flailing arm reaches out behind him, grasping blindly for something, anything. The pale man turns and idly shoves the desperate drowning man back into the shadows before brushing a bit of blood off his coat and strolling back into the lighted portions of the rave room.

Lillian sticks within the cover of darkness for a time, peering out into the crowd, perhaps to assess what effect, if any, her little stunt has had on the masses. She is at about the edge of the stage, watching as Rivi and Lazlo come barreling up and to the foreground to alleviate the destruction she has caused. The timing seemingly right, she slips off the stage and into the crowd that remains within the pitch black.

As with everything, there's a right time for things to happen and a wrong time. This would be the -wrong- time for the fire alarm to go off. Yes, totally the wrong time. However, someone seems to think this is what is needed and so the squelch of a siren's blast bounces through the room once. Odd. It's just one sound. One bleat of a siren that was probably more startling than disruptive. Could it be that, when planning a rave, a smart person decided to disable the fire alarms so that you wouldn't have a panic-filled stampede of people just at the wrong time? Yup. One single blast is enough to pull a 'yelp' from several people but not enough to cause them to turn and run.

There is no visible effect to Lazlo's actions. The audio signal is too low for normal hearing and even those with cybernetics or some other form of enhancement would be unlikely to understand what they hear without expert training in neural psychology. Among the crowd however the effect is more noticeable as people relax and laugh, assuming that the inky darkness and squealing speakers are simply part of the show.

Contents:
Shodol
Merysta
Rebecca
Jason
George
Alyssa
Bruteus
Axiom
Hannah
Chione
Eris
Zero
LillianOBF
Rivi
Lazlo
Neferet

With all of the chaos, the two suited men who entered with her have rejoined Neferet as she remains near the table where Chione and Bruteus are seated. When things begin to come back under control she returns her attention on them. She casually offers Chione a hand, which if taken assists her in exiting the lap of the man to stand next to her. Even with the events going on around, she is calm and collected; like the ice cold that makes up the theme of the rave itself.

Axiom continues to sip his beer, relaxing, and enjoying the crowd. He's curious as to what is going to happen next, head moving from left to right. He seems rather relaxed.

Chione puts her hands up suddenly to her ears to cover them when the first fire alarm wail goes off. With no music to drown it out it's strongly noticeable. She doesn't lower her hands until she's really sure that awful sound won't happen again. "If music doesn't return we can go play music another place." She tells this to Bruteus and Nef as she's offered a hand to get up. Which she does squeeze Neferet's hand and slides up to stand as if Nef could read her mind.

And as inexplicably as it appeared, the black cloud evaporates, revealing a stage in disharmony, and a destroyed mixer. Looks like she missed the turntables and other equipment though, so repairing the damage might be a one-part replacement. Meanwhile Lillian vanishes as well, seemingly satisfied with whatever it was she intended to do.

Zero looks up from his spot in the back of the area, and gives a visual 'wtf' look to himself as the fire alarm goes off. He looks back towards the crowd, and squints towards an individual coming out of the ink. He moves from his spot, moving towards the person in his sites....taking only a moment sneak a kick into the face of a dreg cleaning up the remains of his broken globe. Zero's face in obvious disgust at the recent events and abundance of low lifes infesting the area.

Rebecca enters but stops at the door, clearly looking for something, or in this case someone. A little frown on her lips as the blackness vanishes just as she appears. "Oh really." She snorts with clear disgust.

Yep he had heard about the new place and wanted to check it out. Though George was more into Jazz, this would be a good place, to pass out potential business cards, about his skills.. Hell LATMA had become basically a den of death, everyone is pack, so who doesn't need qualified Gunsmiths these days? As he enters, removes his shades, and decides to head for a spot to get a drink, , moves past the people at the door.

In spite of the darkness, and in spite of a few bruises likely to hurt in the morning as her body connected with fleeing strangers, Hannah is too high to quit it, and the subliminal sounds reaching her keep her from wanting to go anywhere but where she is, right in the middle of the crowd, grinding and clumsily gyrating. But there's no music to do it to, so she stands still, reacting only when pushed against, eyes lighting up again with an electric blue glow as she looks to the columns.

Alyssa is still at the bar, leaning her back against it with a beer in one hand. She's watching the crowd, seemingly. Her head turns as Rebecca shows up in the door, and she starts moving in her direction to meet her.

Coming down from the area of the DJ booth is Rivi whom walks directly over to Wyck and whispers something to him.

Bruteus is luckily not as intoxicated as those around him, though enough that he does not register that he could be in trouble, "Yes we will go play music elsewhere if it doesn't come back on." He stands just as Chione is lifted.

Rivi whispers "I handled our problem, get the music going before this thing dies."

Shodol strolls across the no-mans-land between where the supernatural shadow thing had been and where people had kept away from it, glancing up as he sees...Zero. Making a slight adjustment in his movements, he moves that way, extending a hand as he walks to clamp around the arm of a stoned woman standing around in dazed confusion. He pulls her along with him, stopping next to the other man, and leans forward to speak calmly over the commotion. "The cattle are restless."

Merysta watching as the darkness faded, relaxes a bit and continues to watch the pulsating crowd. She adopts her normal stance with her hands in her pockets. Watching...

Rebecca heads towards Alyssa as the other woman moves towards her. "Do I even need to ask what the fuck happened here. And I was actually looking forward to having fun for a chance this evening." She sounds rather pissed off, "If I fucking find out who did this, I'm going to be really tempted to rip their heart out and play volley ball with it." She looks around for Wyck, damage done, etc, "I guess we should go see if we can help him out." Her eyes lingering on where Wyck and Rivi are talking.

Eventually Wyck appears up at the DJ booth, now visible with the 'cloud' gone. His eyes scan the room for any familiar face as doesn't look like he knows a thing about repairing the sound system. Perhaps to distract the guests from the lack of music, he calls out very slowly, "One...free...Myst...at...the...Bar." That's all people needed to hear and they begin wandering over to try the glowing green drink; if anything...it's free.

With the panic of the crowd forestalled Lazlo unplugs the small electronic device in his hand, dropping the cable to leave it where it lays and slipping the device back into his pocket. Turning he merges with the crowd and makes his way towards the bar, eager for a drink to settle his nerves.

Leopold watches the clean-up process from the sidelines, until it becomes clear that everything is under control. Then, with a nod to security, he slips back outside.

Axiom relaxes a bit when the music returns and gets into the swing of things. All things told he's not a bad dancer but he won't be joining any troops any time in the near future. He mixes into the crowd and moves with the ebbs and flows of the current.

Aly slides in next to Rebecca and slips an arm around her so she doesn't lose her in the crowd's rush to the bar. "I saw who it was," she says. "She left out that door over there," she says, pointing. She looks up to the booth and at Wyck as he looks at the board like a monkey doing a math problem. "Come on, let's go take a look."

Zero makes no effort to hide his displeasure of his current surroundings. He walks quickly through the crowd, openly shoving glow stick wielding sheep to one side or the other. He face palms a walking tattoo with a mohawk as he nears Shodol, "Don't look at me....I didn't do it this time." He leans into the giant and says something in low tones

"Now...we should leave." Neferet states to the two at the table where she is standing. "Raves are not something we partake in. This is not our thing. Understand?" the woman states as she keeps Chione's hand for a moment, then passes her off to Bruteus. She does not look back to make sure they follow, but the two suited men of course walk behind the mocha skinned beauty as she heads for the exit.

Zero mutters to Shodol, "... issue... what... is... much... makes me... place..."

Lazlo finds his destination suddenly becoming much more crowded as a slew of people make their way towards the free drinks. Unknown and unrecognized for his actions it takes him a while but eventually he receives a free drink like everyone else, looking at the glowing liquid with curiosity before taking a sip.

Rebecca nods to Alyssa, slipping her arm around Alyssa's arm to keep herself linked up with the other woman. They head towards the stage, but Rebecca lingers giving Rivi a bit of time to talk with Wyck before they intrude.

Axiom is rather severely put out by the lack of beer, but he suffers and also tries one of the mysts (after eying it for a moment suspiciously for not being beer) and then sips. Pretty good. He continues to meld into the crowd.

George just so happens to have been able to get one of the free drinks. Spots a couple of people he knows, and heads in their direction.. Though he sees Axiom drinking it..

Axiom cannot uses forces to produce kinetic force for the duration of the scene.
You paged Neferet with 'Milk...or lemon?'.

Chione is free again and when she is passed over to Brutus she quickly kisses Neferet upon the lips. Her body draws back and she begins to silently dance her way beside Brutus and follows to the exit. On their way out she picks up and steals two of the icy looking glasses from an abandoned table. Completely fearless she passes one to Bruteus before drinking up the chilled liquid, in a twirl out the door.

Aly holds up at the base of the booth as well, keeping Rebecca between herself and the wall. The crowd is pretty thin where the two women are, with everyone heading to the bar. Aly looks up to the booth and waves to Wyck

Hannah reaches into one of the silver pouches on her utility belt, pulls out a datachip at the tip of thin silver fingers, and slots it into the side of her skull. Her eyes flicker rapidly for a moment, then she resumes dancing to some internal beat, pushing her way through the crowd towards the ice bar to get another shot of Myst. It goes down just as fast as the first.

Wyck waves down to Aly and 'Becca and tries to get them to come up to the booth with him. Having no earthly idea what wires go where, he would sooner weave them into a witch's ladder than know how to fix the sound problem.

Shodol gives an idle shrug to what Zero says, and pulls his dazed female companion next to him. "We are in a zoo, watching the animals perform." His voice is low and hoarse, barely legible in the crowd of yammering people. "Watch them. Be entertained. Throw them peanuts and treats and let them fight over bits of trash for your amusement." He pats the woman on her shoulder, the beginnings of a purple bruise forming as he shifts his grip.

Someone screams out "AVALANCHE" from the side of the ice bar. Patrons nearby turn and position themselves so that they might drink a shot of some kind of alcohol as it is poured through a large block of ice that has been hollowed out with maze-like chambers. The block is nearly six feet long and the bartender must climb onto a ladder to pour the red liquor down from the top.

Departing the area of where Wyck and them are fixing the sound Rivi heads back through the room, this time checking out the other patrons now that the dancing is at a halt.

Did any one know Rebecca actually use to work with sound equipment? Actually she did, but that was a life time ago. When that apparently she's able to recall very clearly as she looks over the sound system. "I know this system it's what Matt hand hold on." She tells Wyck and Alyssa as she starts poking around. With in a few minutes she's able to isolate the problem, turning the sound system back on. Heck it even sounds better then it did before.

George turns and looks, but Axiom has split, so he decides to continue on, towards the booth spotting Alyssa.. Still holding the new drink says "Hey" to get her attention with a bit of a wave..

Aly moves up to the DJ Booth as Wyck waves them up. She looks at the smashed mixer and hmms. "Might not wanna let that DJ play anymore," she offers to Wyck with a grin. "Everything ok?" She tilts her head a bit as Rebecca digs in, hooking up the new mixer.

Lazlo takes a second sip of the glowing green drink, swishing the liquid back and forth in his mouth as he catalogs the flavors and sensations it instills. Deciding that a more precise analysis is required he once again fishes the small electronic device from his jacket, flipping the cover open and examining the screen.

Giln 'swings' into the rave after being checked by security. He grins at the intoxicated people and begins to wonder what trouble can be caused. Oh yes the possibilities...

Axiom bumps into Hannah as he makes his way through the crowd. He seems a bit out of it, though whether it is from the lights, the Myst or something else entirely (probably the something else entirely) is hard to say. "Hey." He moves up and down to the music.

Zero looks down to the woman firmly in the grasp of the monster before him. He gives her about 2 seconds of his time before eying Shodol, "I don't find it entertaining anymore....the only thought that gives me some pleasure right now is the prospect of this party turning into a mad house and watching the carnage." He looks over Shodol's large frame, and notices that the black ink is completely gone, and the staff is already working on the smashed equipment in the booth, "And it seems as though that chance is gone now."

Rebecca brushes her hands together. "I fucking swear if another person messes with shit, I'm going to make it my personal mission to spend the rest of my life hunting them down." But she smiles, "Any ways it was easy. I use to have a friend who had a whole music studio, the whole works, from sound system, to the recorder. I almost cut a record there... but." She shrugs and moves a bit to the beat. "Okay what do you say Aly, you, me the dance floor until our feet are two sore?"

Aly holds up a finger to Rebecca, then her holocomputer pops to life again shrouding her left arm in a glowing blue holographic framework. She taps at some keys for a moment then glances at Wyck, raising an eyebrow.

Wyck glances to Rebecca and can't help himself. He tries to wrap his arms around the woman and give her a huge, warm hug of thanks. She seriously saved him tonight.

Zero decides to grace the woman in Shodol's grasp with another glance before speaking to the monster, "What's your plans for her?"

Lazlo laughs to himself as he examines the data that scrolls across the screen of his hand-held. Someone's certainly been naughty. His stylus dances over the surface of the screen as he makes a record of the compounds found within the drink, storing away the information in case he should run across something with a similar signature.

Rebecca grins at hugs Wyck back. Affection doesn't her phase her, not from Wyck in that fashion. "Any time, really. I'm glad I was able to actually help." The conversation between Zero and Shodol is to far away for Rebecca to hear it, not with the music going now.

"Play that one again!" Hannah yells out as she pushes away from the ice bar, the second dose of Myst working its way through her body. When Axiom bumps into her and a word is exchanged, she stiffens and looks at him. One might liken her look to that of a deer in headlights, glowing eyes and everything. "Hey."

Giln whistles softly as he pulls a stink bomb from his pocket, attempting to detonate it without detection..

Security, wearing plain clothes, continue to move in and through the party to be sure that no one tries to disrupt the evening.

George seems Alyssa is rather busy, so wth a shrug of his shoulders, finds another spot to stand at.. Seems like something happened right before he came, but hell who cares. So might as well people watch, though he is still standing near the booth

Giln is escorted out, mumbling all the way.

Axiom smiles and nods, "Name's Axiom." He can sense the awkwardness of the encounter and attempts to diffuse it by dancing, "What's yours?" He continues to sip the first Myst. Does the man sip damn near everything?

"Think of the people here as a grove of fruit trees." Shodol's voice alters subtly, a low and pleasant murmur. Utterly artificial. He brushes a freezing-cold hand over the woman's face, and down her neck. "You must tend them, and trim their sickly branches. Clean them of their parasites. Care for them." He entwines a lock of her hair in a pale finger. "But they are still just trees, bearing fruit, existing by your sustaining hand. Why burn down your trees without reason?" He pulls the confused, stoned woman towards him by her hair. "Her? We're going to go pick some fruit together."

Rebecca waves to Wyck as she steps back, "I got to live it up while I'm still a free woman." She laughs gaily at that tossing her hair, and grinning at Aly, "Gotta it." And she heads towards the dance floor, a free spot not far from where George is sitting.

Wyck stays at the DJ booth, monitoring what music is played next since no one else wants to be up where the 'cloud' once appeared. Wyck's fine with that. He pulls off his micro-wool jacket to reveal a white, sleeveless t-shirt and a new black tribal tattoo down his left shoulder.
Axiom pages: wait..is this a mind effect?
Rebecca pages: what kind of tattoo?

Aly descends from the booth just behind Rebecca, her black trench coat swirling about her legs as she moves. She smiles and waves as she sees George, then starts dancing with Rebecca.

"Pnn-" Hannah's answer fizzles off as she gestures at something above her head, though there's nothing there. After a long break, the Myst gets her in enough of a mood to call out, "Hannah." and smile at Axiom, though not without some tension. She resumes dancing. Her moves are terrible, but they keep to the beat. "That song was fuckin' awesome. They should play it again!" she tells him, fully expecting him to know what she's talking about, eyes shifting from blue to white and back as she looks back to the DJ booth.

"Hey Ally" George responds with a smile, nodding to her friend as well, though holds up the green drink, and finally sips from it, since no one else has collapsed or anything..

Aly continues dancing with Rebecca, but opens up her body just a little as George approaches. "Hey George," she calls over the music. "This is my friend Rebecca. This is George," she yells to Rebecca in turn. She turns back to the man and says, "I never pegged you as a raver. You enjoying yourself?"

Merysta looking around finally sees a few faces that she thinks she recognizes she gingerly shoves her way through the pulsating crowd and manages to position herself somewhat near to Rebecca and Aly. "Hi I recognized you from the beach last night."

Zero stands stoically in front of the large individual, listening to his words. He lets his icy blue eyes move over the crowd immediately around him, observing them all as lesser life in his greater world. He speaks just above whisper to the man, "There's days when I'd almost rather starve than have to deal with this society. How in the darwinsim scheme of things that this is what prevailed as a civilization, I have no idea. I long for the day that changes though." He violently shoves a dancer that gets to close to him, daring the person with a stare to do something about it.

Axiom nods, "It is awesome..." his eyes go a little glassy as he downs the entire Myst in one gulp, not sipping. His normally inscrutable and calm demeanor melts with the last drop of the drink, "It is indeed fucking awesome..." he begins to move with more skill, showing a natural athletics and almost perfect timing to the beat. "Its amazing."

The sharp dressed Rivi seems to be a bit overwhelmed as he pushes past other people, his eye darting around. He finds the far back wall and presses his back against it before forcing a deep sigh, "No thanks..." He says to an offer of Myst from a passing Eskimo lady before he crosses his arms across his chest and watches the DJs.

Rebecca focuses on George for a moment, then frowns sighing. She's frowning at herself mind you. It fades quickly and she waves towards George, "Hey nice to meet you." She calls out pausing in her dancing.

Wyck gets an unusually devious look on his eyes and pulls some small bit of tech from his pocket. Plugging it into the sound system he goes off-venue a bit and pulls something out from history. Music that probably was forgotten or re-re-re-re-remixed a few dozen times. The music isn't the usual techno-beats commonly found in his rave but it's something that should get some people's attention. Perhaps it will be so retro that it will be en vogue. Perhaps.

"Hey Merysta." Rebecca gives the other woman a smile falling back into her dance steps.

Aly smiles and waves to Mery as she also joins the little group. "Hello Mery," she greets. "Nice to see you again."

The music continues to thump and the lights flash within the ice around the room. Every hour or so, a pair of "Santa's Helpers" walks through the club and begins a rather erotic dance against one of the ice columns that's sure to get most mens attention.

"I'm George, nice to meet you as well" This said in Rebecca's direction.."I see we have a mutual friend here?" indicating Ally

Shodol peels his lips back in an awful smile, regarding Zero with a single shrouded eye. His voice drips with false cheery paternalism. "Fear not. Time will pass. The trees will wither and blacken and throw their dead limbs up to the burning heavens in mute screams for succor. Silence will cover the earth once more. It is inevitable." He drags the slowly-sobering woman closer, a freezing arm around her neck. "Try and enjoy them while they last. Make some memories, before that is all that remains."

"That song was so fuckin' very!" Hannah yells out again, then spins around to focus glowing ice blue eyes on the DJ booth. She resumes dancing after a moment of this, though her dancing consists of stepping from side to side to side very fast, shaking her body, and pumping her arms up and down as if she's running in place, to which she adds some clumsy grinding back against Axiom.

Rebecca manages to dance, but the conversation with her friends distracts her. She frowns again, glancing at Aly, but she turns back to George shouting, "Yeah, Come dance?" She motions towards her, Aly and Mery are standing

Axiom moves to the music and manages a rather impressive cartwheel in the middle of the crowd but it ends rather crudely. Someone somewhere would be rather displeased.

As Hannah grinds into him he smiles and grinds right back wrapping his arms around her, helping to smooth the awkward gyrations to the music, "Fucking amazing to the pangalactic core!" He grabs a Myst off of a nearby tray as it wanders by and slams it.

Merysta nods and starts to dance as well. "Have to thank you for your help on the beach. It was very much appreciated." She smiles, "Its probably too late to catch the kids who had the party."

Wyck doesn't understand why, but the music system keeps returning to a particular piece of music.

[ooc: Click here for background music]

Alyssa is not a trained dancer like Rebecca, but she's full of natural grace. She doesn't have the fancy moves, but when she dances, it's sinuous and smooth. She smiles and takes Merysta's hand, pulling her into the dance party as well. "I don't think this is the time or place to worry about that," she says to Merysta, grinning.

Someone screams out "AVALANCHE" from the side of the ice bar. Patrons nearby turn and position themselves so that they might drink a shot of some kind of alcohol as it is poured through a large block of ice that has been hollowed out with maze-like chambers. The block is nearly six feet long and the bartender must climb onto a ladder to pour the red liquor down from the top.

Rebecca frowns as the same song places over and over. "What the heck." She shouts to the people around them, "He just placed this song." She turns to Merc, "No problem, I want to talk to you and Naki more about things, but clearly I think we need to go bail our friend out of a jam again." She points towards Wyck.

George nods, and comes over where the ladies are.. sitting the green stuff down.. Warms his hands a bit by rubbing them together, and begins to dance slowly with ladies then pauses.."I can help with that"

Wyck calls out to the crowd gathered using the sound system as necessary to broadcast the news. "Ok folks. Last call. Get your free shot of Myst on your way out and don't forget your free gift. We'll keep going for a while longer but the music has a mind of its own for some reason."

Axiom would help but he's too stoned out of his mind to care...besides, that song is awesomezors and stuff. He dances the night away enjoying every second. He shines and breaths the music in as one might oxygen.

"I wonder if that cyber head." Rebecca points to Hannah, "Actually jacked into the system... We can probably pull the plug, but if you have a better way." She winks at them, and turns creating a small triangle between herself, aly and George.

Lazlo decides that things are winding down and it probably is a good time to go. Going to get his free gift he is shocked to find that it isn't one of Santa's Helpers but consoles himself with one of the little powder filled orbs.

Merysta nods and continues to dance with her new friends. "That would be great."
Hannah broadens her selection of moves by jumping up and down energetically, in spite of the arms around her, which makes for very awkward grinding, and possibly feet getting trod under her big moon boots. "That song's so fuckin' great!" she points a shiny silver finger towards the DJ's booth, and with the other she reaches behind herself to grope Axiom.

Zero grimaces and stands like a statue among the dancers around him. A decent sized circle of open area appears around the unamused man, the last show of violence towards a raver who had gotten too close must have made a good impression with the locals. He takes in Shodols words, then looks to the watch on his wrist, "I think I've tired of this event, I'm going to take my leave. I was hoping to meet with our friend tonight, but you know how that goes."

Aly calls over the music, "We could just go back to my place. This looks like it's winding down anyway." She looks between the other three and raises an eyebrow, looking for opinions.

Axiom gets stomped at least five times letting out a slight, "OW!" each time but continuing to dance. In his minds eye the two of them are doing something akin to Fred Aistair and Ginger Rogers on Acid with a Side of Hip Hop, when in fact its the occasionally brilliant athletic move like a flip or a back flipped pointed with a mild limp from being stomped on with a an attention span too short to do anything truly impressive. "FUCK YEAH!"

"It’s her." Rebecca points to Hannah, "I tell you. She probably hacked the system. Aly come on you can shut a simple hack down. You are my computer wiz friend after all." She pats the other woman's shoulder and winks, "Unless George knows how to beat you to it. Or I could go deck her."

George chuckles.."I would suggest, shutting her down, allow Ally to hack the program.. I don't do computer stuff per se, but I might can help in other ways.. by using some of the existing stuff here.. No need to leave your friend in a pickle"

Aly's eyebrows draw together and she catches Rebecca by the arm. "Good grief, girl, calm down," she says. "I think maybe we should go. You're going to get your ass kicked, and probably mine, too."

Rebecca looks Axiom over. "And we'll probably have to do something about him." She mutters, but for the moment it gives Hannah something to play with while they fix the problem. "Seriously we could also just simply unplug it. Aly it's your call."
Merysta looking a slight bit confused, at the computer terminology. But continues to watch. Not knowing how else to contribute to the problem.
Rebecca clearly isn't going any where. Poor Alyssa

"Friends do tend to be unreliable." Shodol replies pleasantly to Zero, putting his coat around the shivering woman at his side. She only shivers more violently. The pale man pauses in his words as someone nearby begins to spaz out. Waiting for Axiom to tire himself out, he continues. "Best to stick with accomplices and victims." He glances towards the exit. "The evening seems to be winding down. The night's entertainment appears to have concluded. We'll talk later, most likely. Of your friend. And other things. Ta, for now." He then turns and begins to meander towards the exit, the woman with him looking out from his coat with large confused eyes, searching for her purse, her friends. Trying to gather her thoughts and understand why she is leaving with this strange and unpleasant man. Trying to escape. He pulls her out of the rave building, and the door clicks shuts with a metallic finality on her life.

"I've got so much fuckin' edge." Hannah cries out, voice auto-tuned, poorly, to match the music. She eases back on the jumping, and just steps quickly in place, gyrating and grinding against Axiom. Considering where her hand is, between her body and his, and the rhythmic way she's got her hips slamming backwards, the only thing making it 'not sex' is the presence of clothes. And she's even taking care of that, undoing her collar and starting to unzip her jumpsuit.

Finally Rivi pushes from the wall and heads in the direction of Wyck, a smile on his face as he approaches, "Once again good show my friend. We will talk later this week, yes?" He asks, the eyebrow arching from behind the patch.

Shodol heads back out into San Pedro.

Zero nods slightly to Shodol, watching the giant take his leave with victim in tow. "Take care, Brother." He stands in place by himself for a few moments, then turns and strides for the door.

Aly rolls her eyes and sighs. "I'll see what I can do." She touches her bracelet and her arm is once again engulfed in a glowing blue holographic framework. She taps at the keys suspended above her forearm quickly, glancing up at the booth every few moments.

Axiom might be drugged out of his mind but he still has some sense of self preservation in all of this....and the air around him slightly changes. If you blink, if you shift your gaze at all of it is blocked momentarily he and Hannah vanish from view as a mental 'Look elsewhere' field surrounds the two of them as he begins kiss her sloppily on the lips, returning the favor anatomically in the exact same location.
Wyck pulls on his jacket and is about to step down from the DJ booth, letting it play 'that' song as it wishes. The last song to be played is something from his music-pod, skipping the compromised playback system that was obviously damaged in the previous 'instance'. Rivi's compliment is met with a warm smile; clearly enjoying tonight's party even with the small interruption. Offering his hand to the man, he nods emphatically. "Sure. Same time as usual?"

George looks towards Ally, and speaking very low.."Who appears to have hacked into the system?" reaches into his coat pulls out a nice PDA type phone

Merysta watches clearly fascinated. This blue techno stuff was very far away from the green of the woods that she was used to. She watched and kept an eye out for any passing trouble.

Jumpsuit unzipped halfway to her nethers, bright blue subcutaneous LED heart glowing on her sternum, Hannah turns, looking away from the DJ booth, and climbs on Axiom for some a very intense and somewhat awkward make-out session, with further complimentary grinding. Then again, it's a dance floor, at a rave, Myst flowing freely, and she's not the sexiest or most remarkable thing around. It's almost easy to miss.

Aly glances at Hannah then up to the booth for a moment before looking back down at the holo-display projected above the palm of her hand. A few more keys are tapped and she smiles. "That should about do it..." she says with a smile.

Rebecca was just about to pull the cord on the sound system, when she bumps into a Eskimo who tries very very hard to give her Myst. Rebecca refuses, and goes to turn away, only to be run into by a couple more people leaving, who bump her into the lap of a large gentlemen who is rather pleased to have a pretty girl (especially because he's high on Myst) leaving Rebecca to struggle to free herself from his grasp.

George hhmms, and grabs his drink, while heading towards Rebecca.. and places it in the man's hand.."Here have this, release her though" smiles

Axiom naturally returns the favor natural geographic style. This is of course with wild enthusiasm since there is no skill or finesse whatsoever to this at this point, though what is lacked in finesse is more than made up for with enthusiasm. Most, if not all of this is completely unseen by those present in the crowd.
Rebecca is traded for a drink and she stands up smiling at George. "Why thank you kind sir." She winks at him, and wraps her arm around his. "Any ways, how do you know Alyssa? I am surprised I haven't met you before?"

"I will see you then. Be safe." Rivi remarks to Wyck and offers a final salute before turning and heading for the exit.

The music finally changes to a new selection. Perhaps a new 'signature' piece to mark the end of one of his raves, Wyck's eyes glitter brightly with near child-like mischief as the lyrics become clearly heard through the sound speakers.

[OOC: Click here to hear what's playing in the background]

George shrugs "I kinda keep to myself, don't come around as much.. You could say we have the same overall goals in mind, she deals with information, I deal with materials.. However seems like that will change soon enough"
Rivi heads back out into San Pedro.

Rivi's departure caches Rebecca's attention. She watches him leave, and then turns her attention back to George and company. "Any ways my mood is spoiled do you guys just want to go home?" She gives George a little nod, "Yes I think I can put that together." She winks, "I'm a very smart girl, even for my age."

George nods.."Do you guys mind if I can accompany you? Though I'm usually at Rintaro's Grail, a wine place.. and I'm also more into Jazz, just decided to check this place out some more"

Wyck hums along with the song, muttering the lyrics as he wanders through the thinning crowd. "Ain't no rest for the WYCK-ed..."

Aly shuts down the computer as the music changes. She smiles at Merysta and starts dancing... and NOW Rebecca wants to go home. She purses her lips and sighs. "Yeah," she says finally. "Let's get out of here."

Merysta speaks up, "Could I accompany you all as well?" She smiles, "The park gets pretty lonely at times and the trees don’t talk back."

The music is the least thought on Hannah's mind, far more interested in interfacing very tightly with Axiom. Much like her dancing, it's all gumption and go-getter attitude and very little skill, but at least it comes with expensive visual effects.

With a click of a switch, the air conditioning units within the large chamber are turned off. The ice that has been stacked into columns, tables, seats and bars will soon start to melt with the ambient heat from all the remaining bodies that have decided to avail themselves of private nooks and crannies here and there.

"You can both come if you want," says Aly to Mery and George. She then starts pushing her way through the crowd toward the exit.

"Seems we will have to meet up another time, come by the Grail, good to see you again Ally.. oH I didn't get your name, but Ally knows me, please get my number and call me later?" George says to Rebecca

Merysta nods, "Its ok. I will catch you all at another time then." She looks around at the thinning crowd. "Hope to see you in the park some time."
"Crap..." Rebecca mutters frowning, "Oh crap." She hurries out after Alyssa calling to her "Aly shit Aly wait up please." She hurries to catch up with her friend.

Quite high, jumpsuit very out of place, flushed and shiny and stumbling, Hannah allows herself to be led out of the party before all the stragglers are gone.
Axiom leads away. (Fade to Black etc etc etc)

Babylon

2011-12-28T18:54:00.000-05:00

A hidden haven of depravity?

A secret night club?

A 'speak easy' for the world of darkness?

Collage: Winterhaven

2011-12-16T21:27:00.013-05:00

The village of Winterhaven rests in the middle of a mountainous valley with rocky hills surrounding it on three sides and a lake on the fourth. Surrounding the village is a thick forest of black pine trees that insulate it from the cold, winter winds that continually threaten to cover the land in ice and snow.

As you move farther away from the lake and closer to the mountains, the winter's chill brings snow that seems to blanket the land in a belt around the forest.

Far to the south, on the opposite side of the lake is the Runestone Hill with a massive set of double doors set into the side of the hill that lead to the Crystal Caves below.

The entrance to the crystal caves and the home of the Dragon who sleeps under the mountain

Deeper still in the crystal caves, you come upon the actual burial chamber of the Dragon - the Heart of Winterhaven itself.

To get to Winterhaven, you have to walk through time. A clock isn't

time, it's just numbers and springs. Pay it no mind, just walk right on

through so long as you have the right key.

One of the pathways to Winterhaven is through an old, grandfather clock that doesn't work. By winding the clock it will play a small tune - and for so long as it plays you can walk through it to get to the shard realm of Winterhaven.

Either a simple, brass key to wind the clock and let it play some weird tune.

Collage: Dalia

2011-12-15T00:16:00.002-05:00

Collage: Blackthorn

2011-12-14T23:35:00.000-05:00

Wyck's Raves

2011-12-14T01:31:00.007-05:00

Click here for a video of Wyck's raves.

Click here for a RP-LOG of the Vault Rave

Click here for a RP-LOG of the Ice Rave

Wycked Grounds

2011-12-14T00:35:00.011-05:00

Wyck's Coffee House / Bookstore in Pasadena right across the street from the Wolf's Mantle Tavern.

This is the outside of the building (which actually exists about 1 block away from the location in RL. Thanks AMY!)

The pentagonal table in the back is a great place to plan, plot and read.

The great big, blue couch is awesome for flopping and reading.

But Wyck loves to curl up on the purple pimp couch.

A black cat named simply 'cat' has claimed the bookstore / coffee house as his own. The humans have yet to realize the change in ownership.

No one's really sure if its a male or a female - it likes to maintain its privacy and, like any other cat, doesn't give secrets away for free.

The back section of the bookstore is covered with paperback and 'real' books. Shelves are stuffed to busting with them as Wyck has gone to every old bookstore in California, it would seem, and bought them out.

In an age where most people have some form of electronic text / book device like a Kindle, analog bookstores are rare. They are able to stay in business mostly due to people's reluctancy to give up everything from the old world.

Ana is one of the two women who Wyck has hired to help him run the Coffee house during the morning rush. Ana is a local to Pasadena and is very friendly with the customers. She's knows all the latest news, has heard all the good gossip and is willing and able to tell anyone who wants to listen.

Tasha, however, don't give a damn. She doesn't give a damn about you, your coffee, your pastries or how many marsh mellows in your hot chocolate. She is, however, an old friend of Wyck's - one he met when he was passing through Atlanta. When she ended up out in LATMA he set her up with a place and a job. She's grateful for the help but is SO not a morning person.

Eventually Wyck broke his rule of hiring only women and brought on a local business student from UC-LATMA named simply 'Pup'. His real name is something that he's not too proud of so he keeps it to himself and everyone uses his nickname more so than any other name.

Pup, much to Wyck's disapproval, is painfully straight. The two ran into each other when Pup came into the coffee house looking for work and Wyck noticed the guy had experience as a bartender. Wyck, wanting to spice up the morning rush a bit, wanted to see what he could do with an espresso machine and put him to work for the morning rush.

Pup's largest concern is having to fight off every advance that Ana can throw at him - dodge every innuendo and politely be 'too busy' to help her in the store room. Tasha, on the other hand, gets along great with Pup and the two have become nearly brother and sister with Tasha looking out for the 'young pup'.

The 'Widdershins' is a signature late that Pup makes that has three shots of espresso and a bit of mocha to sweeten it.

Widdershins is a popular choice in the morning for those people who sprawl out to start their day.

Gear: Thomas Book's Knife

2011-12-11T01:44:00.003-05:00

Gear: Thomas Book's Flashlight

2011-12-11T01:41:00.002-05:00

Character: Blackthorne - Ventrue

2011-12-10T15:59:00.008-05:00

Thomas Daniel Blackthorne, a 10th generation Ventrue. Thomas was the childe of a Vegas crime boss named Nathaniel "Nate" Wilson who got his start in Atlantic City during Prohibition.

Thomas was found in Las Vegas by his sire and recruited to be a 'fixer' for him; someone who could fix problems, smooth things over or remove obstacles when needed. Thomas was already known for his ability to get people to do things for him - or not do things should he ask. He had a natural talent at persuading people to see things his way. Somewhat quiet and soft-spoken, he was not the 'bruiser' that usually darkens the lights of Las Vegas - he was smooth.

When Nate brought him into his business affairs on a more permanent basis, he ensured that Thomas couldn't go anywhere else. All and all, Thomas took the news that his boss was a Kindred in stride.

"One blood-sucker is just like another...don't care so long as I get my cut."

This brash honesty impressed Nate even more and only a few years later he secured enough leverage over his primogen that he was able to embrace Thomas and make him one of the Ventrue. Normally he would not need to work so hard to gain the control over the leader of his clan, but a new vampire within their local court would be a vulnerability that the others might want to exploit. By having some degree of leverage over the clan's local leader, Nate was able to ensure that none of his own clan would use the Childe against him.

1920's Vampire Mush

2011-12-06T01:18:00.013-05:00

A running list of ideas for a Vampire-Heavy mush set in the Prohibition Era of the 1920's.

1. Human characters are open-chargen.

2. Vampire characters are application-chargen.

3. Ghoul/Revnant characters are made ICLY.

4. Mage / Traditions: Virtual Adepts are closed as they do not exist until the 50's. They are filled with the Ali--somethings.

5. Mage / Traditions: Hollow Ones are coming into their own during the 20's as a pseudo-tradition.

6. The city starts out as a Camarilla-held territory. The sabbat don't have many footholds in the US but with massive numbers of immigrants arriving to the eastern ports daily - it's only a matter of time before they start to gain territory.

7. Vampire / Restricted Clans: Samedi (restricted), True Brujah (banned), Old Clan Tzimisce (banned), Daughters of Cacaphony (banned)

8. Non-Vampire / Chargen. Mage / Garou are available by app only.

9. Mage / Traditions: Akashics would be almost entirely Asian Chinese immigrants. Dream-Speakers would be heavily represented but hated by the whites. Hermetics would be bankers and politicians kids. Educated. Verbena would need to be careful, because the Christian Right was stomping all over the place, flexing it's muscles.

10. Mage / Traditions / Verbenna: (restricted numbers)

11. Vampire / Common Theme: Ventrue vs Brujah power-struggles with the emergence of the Prohibition-Era Crime Bosses.

12. Vampire: Theme: Ventrue run the city where the mush was set and the Brujah have been nickle-and-diming their way along the coast but when Prohibition starts, a new figure amongst the Brujah starts to rake in serious money bootlegging. The two sides fight until it spills into open war over the course of three nights. A blood bath to start the new era wipes out the old ventrue prince, the new brujah boss and most of the Clan leaders who were siding with one group or the other. It's a new day...and a new game.

13. Mortal/Theme: Mortal Characters could be anything from laborers, bootleggers, runners (as in drivers and such) as well as Government Agents (probably by App) for things like the Treasury, Prohibition Agents, FBI, etc. Other concepts could include entertainers, sports figures, ex-soldiers (WWI just ended), businessmen, politicians and the like.

14. Vampire/ Clans: Major Clans (where most characters would be found) represented would be: Ventrue, Brujah, Toreador, Nosferatu. Minor Clans (fewer app-ok slots) would include: Gangrel, Tremere, Tzimisce, Lasombra, Ravnos, Giovanni and Setite.

15. Garou / ??

16. Vampire / Sects / Phases: As the Camarilla sect is established, it would open up more slots in the other sects (sabbat and independants) to cause drama - create story.

17. Vamp / theme: No apping for position within the Camarilla. No apping for Prince, Sheriff, etc. Characters are apping for generation, resources, concept and the like. What they DO with that once they go IC is up to them.

18. Vamp: Chargen. Though difficult to track. players are restricted to one 'main' super-toon. Alts can be any variety of human they like. Non-vamp supers are also app-only but do not count against their 'main as they are temporary characters for specific plots. A player can have a Vamp Main, as many humans as they want - and a non-vamp super (mage, garou, etc.) for a plot if approved.

19. Q: If you have a main vamp and as many mortals as you want. What happens when your mortal gets ghouled? Is there a limit on Mortal+ alts?

20. What skills / knowledges/ talents would have to be changed to reflect a 1920's era?

21. Video on youtube about coastal cities during prohibition.

22. Prohibition wars between giovanni and glasswalkers, Technocracy Untouchables, an actual relevant setting for sons of ether, brujah leading civil liberties rallies, etcetera.

23. Staff Requirements:
-Mage Staff (coordinating all mage apps),
-Garou Staff (coordinating all Garou apps),
-Mortal+ Staff (coordinating all mortal+ apps) ,
-Camarilla Staff (coordinating all Camarilla Vamp apps),
-Independant Staff (you get the idea.)
-Sabbat Staff
-Mortal Staff
-Theme Staff

Ice House Rave

2011-09-07T17:57:00.001-05:00

Diamondback Rave

2011-09-07T17:56:00.001-05:00

Sundown Rave

2011-09-07T17:55:00.003-05:00

Vault Rave

2011-09-07T17:54:00.003-05:00

Car Hendge Rave

2011-09-07T17:52:00.002-05:00

Character Collage: Ian

2011-08-18T15:29:00.017-05:00

Ian, originally from Ohio but his parents moved to New York when he was 17, was attending NY University for both his BBA and MBA when his life changed. Ian had always been a fixture on the college club scene - his ability to promote certain parties, produce and coordinate various events and the like was, to some degree why he was going for a degree in business. He had no idea that his success was what brought the attention of the man who would be his sire. He had innate talent for getting people to do what he wanted them to do - not by blackmail or threats - but by convincing them that by doing what he wanted was good for them as well.

His embrace was quick. His sire, a man who posed as a club owner in New York, only met with him for an hour before he had made up his mind to change Ian's life forever. Thinking that the club owner was taking him out for a night on the town to wine and dine him so that he would either go to work for him or hold his parties at the man's club, Ian was embraced within six hours of meeting James. He spent only three nights with his sire - enough to get him past the shaky first few steps and then James vanished. There was no word or warning - but one night Ian woke up and his sire was not there. Since then he's been moving around from city to city, generally staying out of the other vampire's affairs and eventually made his way up to the Toronto area. One of the last things that his sire had told him was that the other vampires may want him dead - for some reason. Since he doesn't know why - and wasn't willing to risk it he usually stays at the fringe of vampire society and moves on when it gets too complicated to stay.

For two years he was a clanless leach that moved around the area until the Prince of New York finally ordered him gathered up and returned to his court. James was not supposed to sire any one and doing so provoked the Prince. However, since Ian had no control over what James did - the Prince released him to his sire's clan; the Mehket. Martin, a member of the Mehket of New York, adopted Ian as a surrogate sire and mentor; a favor to the Primogen. Over the next twenty years, Ian discovered that not only did he like being on the 'inside' of the mask rather than the outside - but he NEEDED the vampire society of the camarilla to survive. Those two years he spent in self-imposed exile were the worst of his new 'life' and he never wanted to have to go through that again.

Russ when he gets cleaned up in a suit

Russ' Gear

The note left by his sire, James:

His Hangouts

RELATIONS
Russ' Original Sire, James Macavoy

Russ' Foster Sire, Martin Bishop

Character Collage: Russel

2011-08-18T15:24:00.011-05:00

The modern mystagogue is an archaeologist, cryptographer, and master of riddles who scours ruins. He soothsays the layout of city streets and programming codes. But aside from these puzzles, enemies also threaten the Mysterium.

A member of the Mysterium Order

And a follower of the Path of Mastigos.

Waylan

2011-08-02T17:34:00.005-05:00

Character Collage: Chavez

2011-07-27T21:46:00.004-05:00

Weaponry

2011-07-17T21:36:00.001-05:00

Artwork: Watercolors

2011-07-15T11:32:00.001-05:00

Concept Art: Fantasy Gear

2011-07-15T11:29:00.000-05:00

Concept Art: Gear

2011-07-15T11:28:00.001-05:00

Concept Art: Thematic

2011-07-15T11:24:00.002-05:00

Sketches: Fantasy

2011-07-15T11:22:00.001-05:00

Pam

2011-07-14T23:21:00.005-05:00

Brujah Chicks can be SO hot.

Firehouse

2011-07-14T22:56:00.006-05:00

Collage: Pup

2011-07-13T15:54:00.002-05:00

Wyck-Loft

2011-07-12T15:15:00.006-05:00

An arial few of Wyck's building before he started 'updating' it. The large HVAC units on the roof have been hidden behind a wooden fence that surrounds the entire roof.

Wyck's basic floor plan, obviously, doesn't incorporate all of the space on the top floor - still working on that.

One of the benefits of being a 'working witch' is that occasionally you get to live in a nice place. Wyck's loft in Pasadena was a gift from one of his more affluent clients.
Although he's usually out on the road or bouncing from city to city, he does get the chance to call this place home from time to time.

While he's at his loft, Wyck can be seen looking like most anyone else; relaxed and less 'street'.
Occasionally he will even wear a suit-jacket when he has to met potential customer.

One of wyck's favorite spots to entertain is not actually in his apartment on the top floor but actually on the roof above.

The roof has been renovated with a tile floor, furniture and a hut tub in one corner.

Nomad Markets

2011-07-12T11:59:00.000-05:00

Character Collage: Justin du Marchande

2010-07-27T23:41:00.006-05:00

Character Collage: Dwayne "Fishbone" Rollins

2010-02-22T23:37:00.012-05:00

A hand-carved fish hook is a prized gift from Fishbone's mentor at his birth sept.

Emblazoned in black marker on the flap of Fishbone's satchel, a combination of scorch marks and ink, is the Native depiction of the wolf spirit.

Wyck Index

2009-08-06T16:20:00.002-05:00

Wyck's Visual Collage

Wyck's Friends

Thomas Book - Complete

2009-02-15T11:41:00.001-05:00

Part 1

A Funeral

Funerals. I hate funerals. They always remind me of her.

Some funerals are full of alcohol, others are full of wives and mothers throwing themselves at the coffin screaming and pleading with their God. Some people say that funerals are times of reflection and when families come together, but what do you do when you have no family? The only real family that a Wizard has are the few friends he makes on his journey. Even still, being a Wizard is like being in a Fraternity; you're only Brothers when there's drinking and parties. As soon as it gets rough, you find out who's got your back. Funerals reminded me exactly how few people had mine.

I was surprised that I got the invitation. I knew that Mouse had died, but I didn't expect this. Mouse was Nat's cousin so I guess it was a invitation based on tradition and formality than familiarity. Natalya's grandmother, a woman whose influence could be felt in almost every corner of the family, made the invitation in her own name. She was one of the few people in the family that didn't blame me for Nat's death. She knew what I did and why I did it without ever being told.

As soon as they pulled the casket from the back of the car, I felt the first drops of rain on my face. The storm clouds didn't appear on any forecast and I'm sure that all of the local news stations would be baffled why it rained over only one part of the city. If there was every any doubt, the rain had proclaimed the nature of the boy's death. Mouse had been murdered.

The motley bunch of mourners were gathered around the pit dug in the corner of the cemetery. Fifty people gathered around as the rain began to swell in the clouds. The old women with their floral scarves and carpet bags could have stepped out of a village in Eastern Europe. The old men, what few there were, stood beside them like scarecrows with big black umbrellas. I could see that almost everyone there had a small bag to be placed as a gift to Mouse for his journey to the Other Side. I saw bags with clothes, some food and I think one even was going to give him new pair of shoes. The Gypsy were always such practical people.

Since I was here as a guest of Baba's invitation, I didn't know quite where to stand for the funeral. I've always been more of a fringe-watcher than someone who jumps into the middle of things. I was content to stay at the edge and pay my respects - and then Baba appeared beside me. I'm not going to tell you that I jumped. That would be a lie.

I squeaked

My well-rehearsed icy exterior was disrupted by a five-foot nothing old woman who has never spoken more than two words in English. That tough old broad fought the Nazis. I swear it. She was as quiet as a fart in church. She just smiled and extended her old, grandmotherly hand for me to take and with the force of a team of oxen, dragged me over to stand beside the grave. She made it a point to involve me and the others wouldn't question it - not directly. So I found a spot beside a guy that had the smile of an insurance salesman and a woman who was incredibly too tanned for April and reeked of cheap perfume; it's that new fragrance - Bad Taste.

By the time they had the small, white casket arranged for their final fair-the-well, I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. The rain was already soaking through my overcoat, but it wasn't the cold water that I felt. It was a presence. Someone or something had gotten close enough for me to pick up the ripples. Granny Baba felt it too. Before I could really get a sense for what was pinging on my magical radar, she had pulled a small, draw-string bag from her purse and sprinkled something over the grave. I don't know if the family knew what she was doing, but it was Baba - she was from the Old Country and no one questioned her mojo.

Gypsy magic was NEVER to be ignored. The Rom had been fighting spirits and demons centuries before the inqusition and had managed to survive even the cleansing fires of the Church. Whatever it was that Grandmother Baba had sprinkled on the grave was probably some kind of protective blessing - the same ones that all grandmothers have I'm sure; the gypsy simply do it with more flair. I smelled lavender and something that reminded me of week-old laundry, but whatever it was made the 'blip' go away. After the first few shovels of dirt were tossed into the grave, I took my cue and turned to leave. Marco, one of Natalya's brother, gave me a dirty look and muttered some Romani insult under his breath. He couldn't publicly say anything to me while at the funeral - especially while under Baba's watchful eyes, but I knew that he'd love to break something over my head if he were to ever catch me out and alone.

Just as I was getting into the Jeep, I saw something shiny on the steering wheel and paused. Someone in my line of work doesn't do anything without some degree of paranoia. Sticking into my steering wheel was a square nail; like the old ones used to shoe horses. This one was silver; an old Gypsy ward against witches and Magi. Though not all of the wards from the Old Country still worked, nailing a witch's footprint with a silver nail was one of those that still packed quite a sting.

I glanced over towards Marco and the other brothers that were watching like a pack of dogs, snickeringly eager to see if their message was received. I would have liked nothing more than to fling a little of my own mojo at them, but the family didn't deserve it. Marco would step over the line sometime and Granny Baba wouldn't mind if I put him back in his place. I took the nail and stuffed it into my pocket and drove away from the graveyard and within a minute or two I was out of the rain. Handy thing, too. My jeep liked to leak.

UPDATE: 4-09-08

You would think that a Mage would be able to repair a leaky jeep-top with a flap of a finger, but not all magic works that way. Besides, magic can get addictive. If I start using it to repair every little thing that has gone wrong in my life - I'd be worse than a crack-addict. Duct tape is just as good as any spell, sometimes better. I had taped the tear in the cover a week ago and I thought that it was going to hold until I could get paid by Mr. Tweed. I love antique dealers - they're so twitchy about hauntings and they pay well. Payday was in two days - according to his secretary, so I just had to coast along until then. By the third stop-light, I had gotten past the mourning clouds around the grave yard and back to clear skies. The jeep would dry out eventually.

My jacket and shirt were soaked, and all I could think of was grabbing a shower. The smell of the graveyard was still on me as I pulled into the old firehouse that I called home. Natalya has been gone for almost a year now and I remember it all; the smell of the fresh dirt around the grave, and the thud of the rain on all of the umbrellas. It was the same sound today. Why do sounds like that always stick with us?

I was half out of my shirt when I heard something break in the back of the apartment.

"Six?"

My cat had a tough life. When Nat got him, she said that it was the number on his cage. I said that it was the number of lives that he had burnt through. According to the vet, he had been poisoned with antifreeze, electrocuted, and shot at least once. I'm fairly certain that if there was a nuclear holocaust, the few things left alive would include cockroaches, twinkies, New York rats and Six. He was great for naps. He was so mellow, orange and so round that he could pass for a buddha statue.

I heard it again and I knew that it was a lot bigger than a cat. With the appearance of a 'something' at the funeral and Marco's warning, it could have been anything. I wasn't going to take any chances. Crossing from the top of the stairs to a hall table, I found my insurance and tried to sneak closer.

Magi are practical folk. Traditionalists get burned at the stake. Living through two Witch Wars had taught me that if you rely on magic to save your life, you're not long for this world. My insurance was in the form of an antique Colt revolver. It only had six shots but it had never missed what it was pointed at; at least that's what the ghost said when I got it. My insurance was always kept loaded. I never understood the logic of having an unloaded gun in your home.

With each step, I found myself hoping that it was Marco. I -wanted- it to be him. Dropping a nail on me is one thing, breaking into my home was crossing the line. I couldn't think of what would be worse: having him arrested or taking him to Baba for punishment. When I got close enough to see what it was, I was disappointed. It wasn't Marco. It wasn't a wraith either.

It was a kid, barely older than the one that I just saw buried.

*** Chapter 2 ***

The guy stood there, caught. Well, he was almost more of a kid than a guy. He had somehow gotten upstairs and was standing in my office. That was a mistake.

My apartment was on the second floor of the fire house that I had inherited from my uncle Julian and my office was in the back, right corner. It was where Julian kept his journals and all of the rare books he had collected over the years. It was a combination study and library with bookshelves lining three of the four walls and a display of artifacts on the fourth. It was my study; my space.

How did he get in?

This kid had to have crawled up the fire escape or something. I don't have much for anyone to steal; nothing worth much to anyone outside the Trade. You don't really see many people trying to steal rare books - there are a lot of things that are easier to steal and easier to sell. I was expecting Marco to send me a message, but sending a kid was something unexpected. He was too clean to be a street-rat and didn't have the look of a junkie. This threw me; enough that my mind blanked. Maybe he was here for a book? Well, he found one; Me.

"Who sent you?"

It was all that I could ask. As stupid as it sounds it was still a legitimate question. If he was one of Marco's boys then I figured that he was here with some kind of message. He started to move rather than answer my question and I chose to make my intentions clear. Cocking the hammer on a pistol is the universal gesture for Don't Move.

He raised his hands in the counter gesture of Don't Shoot. That's when I saw the mark. On the inside of his left wrist was a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, but an alchemical symbol; sulfur. The symbol was easy to identify for anyone of the Walden Witches who had picked up a book on alchemy, let alone anyone in the Trade. It was a combination of symbols; a cross with not one line but two across the center bar - the bottom line wider than the top. At the bottom of the center bar was a figure-eight set where the two orbs meet at their intersection. The presence of the symbol could mean anything - he could be marked by a cult, a gothy, high-school click, or worse.

As much as he was shocked at being caught, he was twice as confused by my question. He looked from my eyes to the muzzle of the pistol, back to my eyes and then to a window nearest the fire escape. I didn't want to shoot him, but I didn't want to let him leave until I found out if he had stolen something.

The end of the hall was the access door for circular fire escape. He glanced around nervously for a way out and I stepped into the room from the doorway as I cupped the butt of the pistol with my left hand like I had seen on all of the cop shows. I wasn't the best shot in the world but I was hoping that he wouldn't figure that out. Just then, as the edge of his vest hung up on the strap of his satchel I could see the edge of a red, leather journal tucked into his belt.

That was reason enough for me to blow a hole in someone. I know people have their reasons to steal, but grabbing a journal is about the most serious sin I could imagine. The only reason I didn't shoot first and ask some questions of his ghost was that he was standing between me and a parchment fragment framed on the wall. I was such a bad shot that I might accidentally shoot through the kid.

He looked like he might try and run so I cocked the pistol's hammer; universal language for 'don't move'.

"I got something from Mouse," he said with a lilt of fear and trembling in his voice.

"Mouse is dead. Keep talking." I responded; the mask of confidence and authority becoming tainted with the fresh memory of the funeral.

"You're Book, right? Mouse said to bring this to you if anything happened to him." The kid explained and tried to reach for the edge of the journal.

I didn't know if was on the level or not so I barked out a warning that I would shoot him if he tried anything.

Just then, as carefully pulled the journal from his belt, the tinkle of silver bells filled the room. As though a dozen wind chimes had suddenly been hit by the same gust of wind at the same time, the room was filled with a silvery cacophony. One of my protective wards had been tripped.

Something was trying to push its way into the fire house.

Then it hit me, if the boy had meant me harm there would already be the sound of the tiny silver bells ringing as soon as I got inside. Even half-soaked as I was, I wouldn't have missed such a warning. What was going on?

"Thomas," the voice of my tutor beckoned from a mirror on the wall behind me. "We are under attack.

"Who is that?" the boy asked pointing to the form of a man who appeared only in the reflection of the mirror on the wall of antiques behind me.

"Who is this?" Sir William, my tutor, asked with the same, imperious tone he once used for his students back at Oxford; Oxford in 1732.

"I don't know. What's coming?" I asked as I twitched the barrel of the pistol in my hand to signal the boy to have a seat.

"You, what's your name?" I asked as I eased the pistol's hammer down.

"Wyck," he answered and watched the reflection in the mirror - wondering how he was shown there yet there was no person in the room.

"Can't you people have normal names for a change?" Sir William groaned.

"Sir William?" I asked as I reached for the wooden staff that rested against the window behind my desk.

A storm was coming yet there were no clouds. Just as rain had appeared to mark Mouse's funeral, the darkness of a coming storm had blotted out the sun over my house. The windows grew dark and the wind began to whistle outside. The breathy whistle twisted in its pitch to become a whirr and then into a wooshy howl.

"Tornado?" Wyck asked as he stuffed the burnt-red, leather journal into his satchel but remained seated and finally drew his eyes off of the mirror.

"By the air. This is no spell Thomas. Something is in the wind." The tutor explained.

"Lilitu," Wyck muttered as though he were figuring out a cross-words puzzle.

"Be silent boy!" Sir William commanded.

"Don't be saying things you don't know nothing about kid." I grumbled as I held the staff defensively across my chest.

Once I had calmed my mind a bit, I focused my thoughts on the energies of my staff and the protective wards around the fire house. Once I had the right image caught in my mind I slammed the butt of the staff into the wooden floor of my office as though I were driving a nail. Well, that's almost what I was doing. I needed to drive the energy around me through my staff straight through the floors of the building until it reached the bedrock below. Once it hit real earth it could fan out to each of the four hearth stones that uncle Julian had buried at the four corners that marked north, south, east and west. They were my own, personal, magical claymore mines.

The wind's howl began to drown out almost every other sound though I could still hear Wyck's voice cursing his luck over and over again. The boy left the chair he was sitting in and curled up in a ball away from any of the windows. I couldn't stop what I was doing to stop him but he wasn't going any where. I needed to focus on the defenses.

It wasn't something that I could call up all the time, but Julian's journals described the stones as a 'rainy day weapon'; something to only be used one in a great while since it took so long for them to recharge. As soon as the energy reached the stones they erupted in a torrent of arcane energy. Whatever supernatural darkness that had surrounded my home ate the magical equivalent of a dozen lightning bolts. With the shriek of pain and defeat, the darkness faded with the suddenness of a summer shower.

"Fuck..." Wyck commented as he slowly opened his eyes and relaxed his muscles.

I had to force my fingers to let go of the staff I was holding on so tight. I hadn't used the stones before and I severely underestimated how much juice they needed to work. I was all but exhausted as I turned to look at the boy. I noticed that steam was rising off of my forearms and chest; the result of channeling so much energy through my staff. I didn't have the energy to fight with Wyck and thankfully I could see he was more afraid of what was outside than what was inside.

"Start talking kid..." I put the staff back against the corner of the window next to the bookcase and eased myself into my chair. Just to make sure that I wasn't finished with him, I clapped the pistol on my desk and rested my chin on my fist.

This was going to be an interesting story.

Part III

The headache began in the base of my head, back where your neck and your skull meet. It was a dull ache that began to seep into me like the chill of cold breeze. It takes a while for you to fully realize it but by then it's too late.

I wasn't sure, at first, whether the headache was more from casting the spell through the stones or listening to Wyck attempt to mutter through an explanation that had so many um's and 'uh's that I lost track what he was trying to say.

"Wait... wait." I told him and pulled the pistol from the top of my desk and slid it off into the drawer in front of me. I could tell that his eyes were starting at it like it was the only thing in the room. He really was just a frightened kid and I had turned things up a notch by waving a gun at him and that was before some...THING tried to huff and puff and blow my walls down.

Wyck eased himself into a chair across from my desk and with a glance over his shoulder to the mirror on the far wall, he let out a long, slow breath and tried to relax.

Sir William, hovering in the reflection in the mirror, folded his arms like a disapproving parent waiting for a child to try and explain their way out of trouble. Since he could only move from reflection to reflection, he was able to walk about in the mirrored version of the room as though he were in it with us. The professor, as I liked to call him - though he had no resemblance to the character from Gilligan's Island - walked over within the anti-room and leaned against a seat under a window between two bookshelves.

"Ok. All I know is that Mouse found me the night before he died and told me to hang onto something for him." Wyck began and placed the red, leather journal onto the desk between us.

"He said that if anything happened that I should get it to you no matter what," he continued.

My eyes paused on Wyck, I wanted to wait for a second to see if I could pick out any tick of a lie in his face. He was either very good at looking like a frightened, nineteen year-old kid who had gotten in way over his head or he was just too freaked out to lie about it. I shifted my attention from his face to the book on the desk and shrugged a bit. It wasn't one of my journals, I could tell by the design.

Let me take a minute here to point out that wizards in general are book snobs. Whether it's old leather tomes of arcane knowledge musty with age or papyrus scrolls made fragile with the passage of time, we know from books. Aside from the rare books that I had collected while working for my uncle Julian, I had a lot of journals that recorded my own experiences with magic and such.

Most of my journals were hand-made; a skill that Julian insisted that I learn. Knowing how books were put together made it easier for me to appraise their value.

The journal on the table in front of me was hand-bound, that was easily pointed out just by seeing the edge. The cover was thin leather that had been died a shade of red ochre, like rusty dirt. Whoever bound it didn't know what they were doing with dye - the color was uneven and splotchy. That's when it hit me.

It wasn't leather dye.

The journal was dyed in blood. Not dipped in, but worn into the leather itself. The blood had dried once and had been reapplied over and over again to give the whole cover an oddly rust-like appearance.

It was about as big as one of my own journals - half the size of a regular piece of printing paper. I could tell that the leather was warn darker across the spine where someone had held it and their own body oil and sweat had been infused into the leather. The journal was packed full of pages, at least two-fingers thick, and the front and back cover were tied together with a black braided cord of something that looked like horse's hair.

Though normally I would never peer into someone else's journal - it's almost a sin amongst Magi - but I wanted to see what Mouse may have died for. As my hand brushed against the surface of the journal I felt a spark - not unlike being shocked by having your feet rub across the carpet and reaching for a door knob.

"Warded," I commented.

"Really," Wyck asked and reached for the book. Before I could warn him he plucked it off the table much to my surprise. He was unaffected.

It occurred to me that Wyck had probably touched the book a dozen times since Mouse had given it to him. Why would it suddenly react to my touch and ignore his?

Unless it was warded against me.

Now I was definitely curious what was between those blood-stained cover, but I would need to hear more about what Wyck knew before I jumped into something. I was really good at leaping before I looked and after last year's problem with the high-school coven of necromancers, I had promised myself to try and be more patient.

"Ok, keep talking. Where did you see Mouse last? What did he look like?" I asked and glanced to Sir William in the reflection. He was already circling the mirror-verse of the room and looking at the journal on the desk in front of me.

"Uh, he found me at Fagan's place."

"Where?" I asked having only the mildest idea who 'Fagan' was outside of the context of Oliver Twist.

"Fagan. He's an alley-runner down near the Warrens."

This didn't sound good. Alley-runners were basically black market entrepreneurs that were willing to find and sell you whatever you wanted to indulge in - so long as the price was right. Drugs were only the tip of the ice berg for these folks. You got the vice, they have the price. I didn't know what kind of runner Fagan was, but if he was anything like the Dickens character he probably dealt in stolen property. Mouse was an occasional thief, but it was always small-time stuff; dvd players, CD's, stuff that a kid would like.

"Was he supposed to meet you there? Was this something already arranged?" I asked and shifted back in my chair a little.

"No," Wyck explained. "But I'm always there on Tuesday nights. Great place to pick up some...um... work."

"So he found me there and took me off to the side. He didn't look too good; kinda pale," Wyck described.

"Pale?"I asked. Mouse was one of the street gypsies. He lived here and there around the city and was rarely out in the day. Pale was a normal state for him. Anyone who would have known him would have known that. I wondered exactly how well this kid knew my now-dead friend.

"Not just his usual emo-pale, but anemic, paper-white kind of pale,"Wyck countered.

"Thomas," Sir William muttered.

"Was he hurt?" I asked.

This was actually the first bit of information that I had about what happened to Mouse. All I knew was that he was dead - jumped from a building a few days ago.

"His clothes were torn and he was sorta scratched up," Wyck explained with a half-glance towards William's mirror.

"Thomas..." Sir William repeated though with more emphasis - trying to get my attention but I wanted to hear about what happened to Mouse more than what the old ghost had to say.

"Scratched?" I repeated.

"Well, more like clawed. There were three big scrapes down his back and it looked like someone had ripped into his jacket."

Now we were getting somewhere. Wyck was on the run from something that had tried to grab him. Whatever it was almost got him and he ran to Fagan's place trying to find help.

"So then what happened," I asked and leaned forward in my chair only mildly aware of the journal on the desk.

"Thomas!" Sir William barked and just as I looked over towards his favorite mirror I could see black flames beginning to erupt from the reflected form of the book. The journal in front of me was still perfectly normal, but its reflection was starting to be consumed by the purple-hued, black flames of magic.

I stood up with a shock and knocked the journal off my desk. It hit the wooden floor with the sizzle of a bit of fresh slab of meat on a hot grill. Wyck flinched and recoiled into his chair as though the book were going to bite his feet.

"What?" he yipped.

"Get the book, "I told him and pointed to where it fell.

"Hell no!" He retorted.

"Dammit, it won't hurt you. Pick it up." I lied. I had no idea what it was doing, but I was hoping that since the book hadn't hurt him this far that it wouldn't hurt him now.

"Fuck that." He scrambled out of the chair and backed away from the book as though he expected it to blow up now.

The flames were now a column of black fire in the reflections of the mirror. I didn't have much time. Sir William was now across the room in a smaller mirror on the wall so that he could keep an eye on Wyck. I reached out my right hand and spread my fingers while I called up the words of a spell to mind.

"Winds I command thee...to bl.."

Usually, I would say the word 'blow' and a big gust of wind would barrel out from my hand and knock back whatever was in front of me. It's usually was only good for small things but I thought that it could at least scoot the journal across the floor and hopefully into the circle of copper in the corner. It wasn't my main protective circle - that was in the basement, but it should have been enough to hold whatever was happening in the Netherwhere.

However, as I pronounced the final word and the power of the spell popped in my ears, I felt a huge fist of wind slam into my gut. It doubled me over and knocked me back into the shelves behind me with a crunch. The shelves were built to hold several dozen pounds of books and were sturdy to the touch. Sturdy enough that when my back slammed into them I swear I heard a pop or two. Not good.

I was a barefooted, crumpled heap of still-damp jeans. Whatever hit me went right through the protective bracelet. I hurt in places I didn't know could hurt. It took some effort but I finally managed to twist my head so that I could look out to see where the journal was on the floor - unmoved by my spell.

The wind that I had tried to call to move the journal was now spiraling and twisting around the room like a miniature tornado. Books were being blown off their shelves and free pages swirled in the air with a growing roar in my ears.

"Put it in the shukle," I muttered through a rapidly swelling lip. I couldn't pronounce the word through swollen lips.

Wyck seemed to have understood what I was saying and scampered over on his hands and knees to pluck the journal up and tossed it towards the circle that had been scorched into the wood of the floor. As the journal left his fingers, a hefty tome came off a nearby shelf and clocked the boy in the side of his jaw; enough that it forced him to bite into his lip.

As soon as the journal's cover touched the wood inside the circle the wind died as though someone threw the switch on a big fan.

I lamented not keeping the reams of blank paper for making journals in some kind of a container and not loose on one of the shelves. The floor of the office was about a finger's thickness with loose pages and I slowly tried to rise. Being hit in the gut was worse than power crunches in the gym. I got my shoulder blades about three inches off the ground before the pain hit me and I collapsed back onto the wooden floor with a dull thud.

"Ow..." I exclaimed, trying to make light of the pain.

I rolled over onto my stomach and pulled my knees under my gut. I could feel the lump on my lip swelling with each throb of the pain in my back and stomach.

"Kid, you ok?"

"Wyck," he corrected me.

"I'll take that as 'yes'." I commented as I reached for the staff beside me and used it as a crutch to get to my legs.

Sir William clicked his teeth as he looked at the mess of blank paper all over the floor. "I tried to tell you, Thomas, that I thought I recognized the ward on the journal."

"Try harder next time," I groaned.

"Some kind of reflexive magic or something? Bouncing back whatever was cast on it only worse?" Wyck offered. The boy had an uncanny knack at chiming in at the right time with the right information.

"Ok, Wyck," I began reaching up with my hand to gently touch the bruise on my lip just to see how badly it had already swollen. "You sound like you know a little something about what's going on so don't make any plans on leaving until we've had our talk. For now," I glanced towards the circle and scattered pages on the floor. The swirl of the wind had moved the pages from their perch on one of the shelves to cover the floor but thankfully none of them interrupted the continuity of the protective circle opposite the door to my office.

Circles had been used in magic since the beginning. They were for holding things in or keeping things out. The small circle I had burned into the wood of the floor was for keeping things in. It was only about three feet across so it wasn't really large enough for summon something but it had come in handy as an extra layer of protection on more than a few times.

Sir William's shifting from one mirror to the other caught my attention for a moment and I turned to him but only just to see how badly my lip was swelling. "Pick up the pa..." I started to tell the boy.

Wyck was already on his hands and knees starting to gather the papers into neat stacks. He didn't wrinkle a page or dog-ear a single corner. The kid was meticulous, far more careful with the pages than I would have given him credit especially considering his appearance. With his help I was able to step to the circle without having to walk on the blank pages and I stared down at the journal.

It laid there innocently. Anonymously. Patiently.

"One book to rule them all," I muttered.

Sir William just rolled his eyes at me from his side of the mirror at the allusion.

"Professor - can you tell me anything about the book?" I asked as I bent to help Wyck collect the pages and put them back onto the shelves as well as a few other books that had fallen in the micro-storm.

"Nothing, Thomas. Not a thing. It has been warded against my sight. Actually, there are wards against almost anything one could imagine placed on that book."

"That would take a lot of umph to be able to layer all of that magic onto something like that, wouldn't it?" I asked and stepped over to the old wing-backed chair behind the desk and eased into it with my staff as a crutch.

Wyck pulled himself back into the chair opposite my desk but turned it around so we could both watch the book sitting there within the circle like someone had simply dropped it from a nearby shelf. The black flames had died out or had stopped through some other means. I had only seen flames like that once before and I didn't want to bring myself to even think of what it could mean.

It was bad.

Very bad.

"So what happened after Mouse gave that to you at Fagans?" I tried to continue the conversation while I had the presence of mind to do so.

Wyck shrugged and turned back towards me. "Dunno. I was already on my way out when he found me. He just asked me to hold onto it and then went to go talk to Fagan about something."

"That's it?" I asked and began to realize that I was bare-footed and half out of my clothes when this whole problem started. I needed to either get a shower and clean up completely or just put back on what I had taken off and ignore the feeling of walking around in wet denim.

Or not.

"He was going to meet me the next night and we were going to hold up with this guy I know. He likes to party and he likes 'em young. You know, get off the street for a while."

"I..uh... see," I tried not to judge but I really didn't like hearing that Mouse was willing to sell himself for a safe place to crash. He could have come to me and I would have let him sleep on the couch or something.

"So did Mouse find you?" I asked as I stripped off my damp socks and winced as I could feel some bruises forming on my back.

"Nope. I waited and waited but he never came. I tried to look around for him but no one one the street had seen him since he was at Fagan's place."

That settled it. I knew that I needed to go and find out what this Fagan guy knew. Getting Wyck to show me where I could find him could be a bit more complicated.

"How... WELL... did you know Mouse?" I asked trying to at least sound polite.

"We were close," he responded enigmatically.

"Ever seen his tattoo?" I asked - testing just how close of a connection there may have been between them.

Wyck blushed. His eyes dropped from mine and he looked away immediately. Whether he wanted to conceal the details of the relationship from me or not, his face told it all.

"Oh. Ok, " I commented just trying to change the topic as quickly as possible, "Well, I am going to need your help if I'm going to find out what happened to Mouse and what's up with that book."

"I'm down." He replied and stood up as though he were ready to charge off that very minute.

"Whoa there boy. Have a seat. First thing's first." I pointed to the journal, "First, I need to lock that up somewhere until I can figure it out what it is and who might have killed Mouse for it."

"Then we can go talk to Fagan. Once you get me there, you can head off and do whatever."I explained while I stood up and tried not to let the deep inhale of breath sound too much like a moan of pain. " I don't want you to get in any deeper than you are."

"I'm already in over my head," Wyck snerked darkly.

"Sir William," I asked while stripping off my still-damp shirt. The centuries-old spirit appeared in a mirror nearest me on the wall and inclined his head as though he were waiting for me to finish the request. "Please keep an eye on Wyck here while I change my clothes."

"Certainly Thomas," he nodded and turned his eyes towards the boy in the chair and leveled him with the full weight of his professorial death-stare. In life Sir William was a professor at Oxford in the mid-sixteenth century. He was more than accustomed to staring down students of various degree and putting the occasional upstart in his place with just a glance. Since his death and eventual enforced servitude, he had gained quite a sum of arcane knowledge though his ability to influence the world of the living was limited, he could cast his own illusions and make people think otherwise.

I looked directly at Wyck, enough to make eye contact with him, and told him to stay in the office. He nodded and I headed out and down the hall to change out of my wet clothes.

Water Gathering

2009-01-25T12:54:00.002-05:00

Gathering water can be difficult when you still live in one of the towns that survived the flash.

Running water only works part of the time so you're never really certain when it will decide not to work for you - usually when you need it most. Winter is one of the worst times for the water to freeze up or when they can't get it fixed that quickly.

So, you do what our grandparents did and stock up.

Right now my basement is as stocked as a wine cellar - just with bottles of water. Anything that could hold water has been washed and converted into use. We are truly a 'Green' society because recycling isn't just a cool idea - it's a fact of life.

When the water goes out, it could take a week to get it turned back on. This is when people start dipping into their water cache for everything from flushing the toilet, doing dishes and sink-baths. Showers and baths are usually on hold until the water's back on.

In some parts of the town, you can't get running water because the pipes broke and they're too far down to dig by hand. Though we've been able to rebuild most of the digging machines after The Flash, we don't have any pipes to replace the ones that ruptured with the cold.

Celtic Zodiac

2008-10-28T11:14:00.009-05:00

Years of the Land, of Order and Stability

Wolf
Bear
Boar
Stag
*Dragon*

Years of the Sky, of the Endless Possibilities
Hawk
Raven
Owl

Years of the Horse
2007
1995
1983
1971
1959
1947

Concept: The Horse is a symbol of freedom; a wild, white stallion running along the planes. Following the Serpent, it symbolizes the energy of breaking bonds and new freedom.

Born:

Year: The year of the Horse is all about stretching your legs and enjoying a bit of freedom. The Horse is a creature of the wind and wants to get out. Like the butterfly that has just emerged from the old cocoon, the Horse wants nothing more than to go experience some of the newly found freedom.
*Dragon*

Years of the Sea, of Balance and Wisdom
The years of the the Sea are years when lessons are learned through hardship and tribulation. To survive these hardships we must acquire a good set of sea legs - means to rise above the troubles and find our own path.

Like the Sea, these years are calm, stormy and choppy from time to time and occasionally all at once. Those born in the year of the Sea have learned to anticipate and accomodate such hardships.

Years of the Crane
2008
1996
1984
1972
1960
1948

Concept: The crane is a symbol of balance; balance through wisdom.

Born: Those born in the year of the crane are often faced with having to navigate through the hazards of life to find their own balance. Like the crane picking its way through the reeds at the edge of the waters, they move from one leg to the other - gently picking the way through potential danger. Cranes will have hardship thrown at them over and over again but they have the capacity to find a balance that may not work for anyone else.

Year: The year of the Crane is all about figuring out some sense of balance for your life. It may not work for other people but if it works for you - if you can find some sense of balance, embrace it.
Salmon
Lynx

Year of the Serpent
2006
1994
1982
1970
1958
1946

Born: Those born in the year of the Serpent are continually reinventing themselves. Whether they stick to a New Year’s resolution or not, they seem to always be itching at their life, never satisfied with what they are for long. One year it’s yoga, the next it’s a tattoo. They are also more likely to change their appearance to match their ever-dynamic personality.

Year: The year of the Serpent is a year of transformation. In this year, you will slowly scratch yourself along the rocks to free your from the itchy dead skin of years past. The process of pulling the skin from your body is a painful process that can last the whole of the year but in the end you will have been transformed into something greater than you were.

*Dragon*

Metro: Thomas Book: The Fae

2008-10-26T23:05:00.007-05:00

The Fae of Metro
(and Thomas Book)

are organized into Four different Courts, each one based off a different season.

The Summer Court, ruled by Queen Titania, Queen of Light and Fire
The Autumn Court, ruled by Lord Oberon, King of Shadows and Earth
The Winter Court, ruled by Queen Maab, Queen of Night and Wind
The Spring Court, unclaimed but once ruled by the Lady Esmeralda, Ruler of Storms and Rains

Brief History:

Originally there were only two courts, The "Good Fae" of Summer, under the rule of Queen Titania and then the "Bad Fae" of Queen Maab's Winter Court. For some reason, both Queens invested Lord Oberon with the Mantle of Ruler of Autumn. Subsequently they also bestowed Lady Esmeralda with the Mantle of Spring.

Oberon was probably elevated to have more custodians of the power of the changing times (the seasons) during the age of Industrialization when many forests were being threatened around the world. Given the title as the "Lord of Leaves", Oberon is the chief protector of the last of the Great Forests and those patches of woods here and there to maintain a natural presence within the mundane worlds.

Oberon became a power to be recognized by the Queens when he managed to Call a bulk of the Wild Fae to his banner during one of the larger conflicts between Summer and Winter. Through his combined forces, he was able to maintain the balance between the seasons and ensure peace (at least on the surface) between the two old enemies.

Oberon has become somewhat of a Neutral third in recent centuries, focusing his efforts more on maintaining the realm of the Fae and protecting it from the forces of the Umbra that would corrupt it.

Lady Esmeralda was a companion to the Queen of Summer but Maab imbued within her the chaotic power of the storm. Winter's grasp of suffering could therefor extend closer and closer to Summer's edge. Esmeralda vanished nearly a century ago - "called out to sea" for some unknown reason and has yet to return. With the power vacuum, many of her followers have flocked to Titania or to Maab for protection within the Umbra.

Rulership

As the seasons change, the strength of the two courts rise and fall with the Solstices being the time of great power for both and the equinoxes being times where the strength of one court is equal to the other - often when small battles occurred.

The four courts will squabble with each other during the year but sometimes unify to defend their realms within the Umbra from the brood of creatures that would attack and corrupt them.

Politics

The summer court opposes the Winter Court's campaign to sew destruction in the mortal world and reclaim it as their own. The Winter Court continually attempts to take down the technological authority on reality that mortals have had for the past few centuries. If Winter had her way, she would freeze the mortal world in a season of ice (that lasted a few years) until they were willing to accept her authority once more.

The Autumn court, as it is a season of change, accepts that things must change and attempts to maintain their place within the Umbra.

Metro: Thomas Book: Character: Bloodthorn

2008-10-26T22:41:00.009-05:00

Bloodthorn

A Fae that Thomas Book has dealt with before.

Appearance:

Bloodthorn appears to be a young boy somewhere in his early teens with long, elven ears and a big, red, burlap sack slung over his shoulder like a weird version of Santa Claus.

Bloodthorn's skin is somewhat tanned, though not 'baked'. Considering that most of the Fae have very fair skin, the bit of sun that has given him some color makes him stand out as if he had lived in a tanning booth. The near-tanned complexion marks him as a member of the Wyld Fae.

Bloodthorn stands a bare three and a half-feet tall when he manifests to his fullest height. With the lean and well-muscled features of a track and field runner, his frame is slender and defined. His eyes are a shade of green similar to fresh acorns and his hair is a dirty blonde, the color of staw-colored autumn leaves. Wherever he stands there's the faint smell of fall about him; the smell of a pile of dead leaves.

Bloodthorn patrols the Umbra but rarely enters the city unless he's on an errand for the Lord of Autumn, Oberon. He prefers the solace of trees and the forests but has been summoned within the confines of a cemetery once - since there were so many Oak Trees there it was a "City Forest".

Bloodthorn is one of the Wild Fae, technically unaligned to the Courts, but has worked for Oberon on a few times and is usually the one contacted if the Lord of Shadowed Leaves wishes to speak to the Wilder Brood.

Thomas has used Bloodthorn once to direct him towards a spirit within the Umbra.

"Why you seek Crow?"

He speaks like a younger version of Yoda; and rarely gives anyone a straight answer.

Generally speaking, he doesn't wear much when he's coming and going. Aside from a loincloth of deer skin and his red, burlap bag of infinite holding, he doesn't wear much. Thomas gave him a tear-drop pendant of green amber for helping him out once and Bloodthorn carries it as a favorite piece of jewelry.

Bloodthorn's abilities include:

Wild growth (causing any plants to spontaneously grow rapidly and up to a giant size within moments)

Nature's Grace (Absolute Elven Grace. Walk on the smallest branches, leaves no trace, breaks no leaves, etc.)

Bramble Thorns (Ensnaring thorny vines to grasp and hold people)

Bloodthorn's Allies:

1. Oberon
2. Thomas Book
3. Titania

Bloodthorn's addictions:
1. Honey Roasted Peanuts

Bloodthorn's Bribery:
1. Amber of any kind but prefers green
2. Sack of Acorns

Bloodthorns' Enemies:
1. Queen of the Winter Court & her Emissaries
2. Tree-Killers

Metro:Thomas Book: Part 3

2008-10-23T20:32:00.008-05:00

The headache began in the base of my head, back where your neck and your skull meet. It was a dull ache that began to seep into me like the chill of cold breeze. It takes a while for you to fully realize it but by then it's too late.

I wasn't sure, at first, whether the headache was more from casting the spell through the stones or listening to Wyck attempt to mutter through an explanation that had so many um's and 'uh's that I lost track what he was trying to say.

"Wait... wait." I told him and pulled the pistol from the top of my desk and slid it off into the drawer in front of me. I could tell that his eyes were starting at it like it was the only thing in the room. He really was just a frightened kid and I had turned things up a notch by waving a gun at him and that was before some...THING tried to huff and puff and blow my walls down.

Wyck eased himself into a chair across from my desk and with a glance over his shoulder to the mirror on the far wall, he let out a long, slow breath and tried to relax.

Sir William, hovering in the reflection in the mirror, folded his arms like a disapproving parent waiting for a child to try and explain their way out of trouble. Since he could only move from reflection to reflection, he was able to walk about in the mirrored version of the room as though he were in it with us. The professor, as I liked to call him - though he had no resemblance to the character from Gilligan's Island - walked over within the anti-room and leaned against a seat under a window between two bookshelves.

"Ok. All I know is that Mouse found me the night before he died and told me to hang onto something for him." Wyck began and placed the red, leather journal onto the desk between us.

"He said that if anything happened that I should get it to you no matter what," he continued.

My eyes paused on Wyck, I wanted to wait for a second to see if I could pick out any tick of a lie in his face. He was either very good at looking like a frightened, nineteen year-old kid who had gotten in way over his head or he was just too freaked out to lie about it. I shifted my attention from his face to the book on the desk and shrugged a bit. It wasn't one of my journals, I could tell by the design.

Let me take a minute here to point out that wizards in general are book snobs. Whether it's old

The journal on the table in front of me was hand-bound, that was easily pointed out just by seeing the edge. The cover was thin leather that had been died a shade of red ochre, like rusty dirt. Whoever bound it didn't know what they were doing with dye - the color was uneven and splotchy. That's when it hit me.

It wasn't dye.

The journal was dyed in blood. Not dipped in, but worn into the leather itself. It was like the leather of most well-loved books, warn darker across the spine where someone might hold it and their own body oils had been infused into the tanned animal skin. The color of the book looked as though whoever had held the it did so with blood on their hand. The blood had dried once and had been reapplied over and over again to give the whole cover an oddly rust-like appearance. It was about as big as one of my journals - half the size of a regular piece of printing paper. It was packed full of pages, at least two-fingers thick, and the front and back cover were tied together with a black braided cord of something that looked like horse hair.

Though normally I would never peer into someone else's journal - that's almost sacrilege - but I wanted to see what Mouse may have died for. As my brushed against the surface of the journal I felt a spark - not unlike being shocked by having your feet rub across the carpet and reaching for a door knob.

"Warded," I commented.

"Really," Wyck asked and reached for the book. He was unaffected.

It occurred to me that Wyck had probably touched the book a dozen times since Mouse had given it to him. Why would it suddenly react to my touch and ignore his?

Unless it was warded against me.

Now I was definintely curious what was between those blood-stained cover, but I would need to hear more about what Wyck knew before I jumped into something. I was really good at leaping before I looked and after last year's problem with the high-school coven of necromancers, I had promised myself to try and be more patient.

"Ok, keep talking. Where did you see Mouse last? What did he look like?" I asked and glanced to Sir William in the reflection. He was already circling the mirror-verse of the room and looking at the journal on the desk in front of me.

"Uh, he found me at Fagan's place."

"Where?" I asked having only the mildest idea who 'Fagan' was outside of the context of Oliver Twist.

"Fagan. He's an alley runner down near the Warrens."

This didn't sound good. Alley Runners were basically black market entrepreneurs that were willing to find and sell you whatever you wanted to indulge in - so long as the price was right. Drugs were only the tip of the ice berg for these folks. You got the vice, they have the price. I didn't know what kind of runner Fagan was, but if he was anything like the Dickens character he probably dealt in stolen property. I knew that Mouse was an occasional thief, but it was always small-time stuff.

"Was he supposed to meet you there? Was this something already arranged?" I asked and shifted back in my chair a little.

"No," Wyck explained. "But I'm always there on Tuesday nights. Great place to pick up some...um... work."

"So he found me there and took me off to the side. He didn't look too good; kinda pale," Wyck described.

"Pale?"I asked. Mouse was one of the street gypsies. He lived here and there around the city and was rarely out in the day. Pale was a normal state for him. Anyone who would have known him would have known that. I wondered exactly how well this kid knew my now-dead friend.

"Not just his usual emo-pale, but anemic, paper-white kind of pale,"Wyck countered.

"Thomas," Sir William muttered.

"Was he hurt?" I asked.

This was actually the first bit of information that I had about what happened to Mouse. All I knew was that he was dead - jumped from a building a few days ago.

"His clothes were torn and he was sorta scratched up," Wyck explained with a half-glance towards William's mirror.

"Thomas..." Sir William repeated though with more emphasis - trying to get my attention but I wanted to hear about what happened to Mouse more than what the old ghost had to say.

"Scratched?" I repeated.

"Well, more like clawed. There were three big scrapes down his back and it looked like someone had ripped into his jacket."

Now we were getting somewhere. Wyck was on the run from something that had tried to grab him. Whatever it was almost got him and he ran to Fagan's place trying to find help.

"So then what happened," I asked and leaned forward in my chair only mildly aware of the journal on the desk.

"Thomas!" Sir William barked and just as I looked over towards his favorite mirror I could see black flames beginning to erupt from the reflected form of the book. The journal in front of me was still perfectly normal, but its reflection was starting to be consumed by the purple-hued, black flames of magic.

I stood up with a shock and knocked the journal off my desk. It hit the wooden floor with the sizzle of a bit of fresh slab of meat on a hot grill. Wyck flinched and recoiled into his chair as though the book were going to bite his feet.

"What?" he yipped.

"Get the book, "I told him and pointed to where it fell.

"Hell no!" He retorted.

"Dammit, it won't hurt you. Pick it up." I lied. I had no idea what it was doing, but I was hoping that since the book hadn't hurt him this far that it wouldn't hurt him now.

"Fuck that." He scrambled out of the chair and backed away from the book as though he expected it to blow up now.

The flames were now a column of black fire in the reflections of the mirror. I didn't have much time. Sir William was now across the room in a smaller mirror on the wall so that he could keep an eye on Wyck. I reached out my right hand and spread my fingers while I called up the words of a spell to mind.

"Winds I command thee...to bl.."

Usually, I would say the word 'blow' and a big gust of wind would barrel out from my hand and knock back whatever was in front of me. It's usually was only good for small things but I thought that it could at least scoot the journal across the floor and hopefully into the circle of copper in the corner. It wasn't my main protective circle - that was in the basement, but it should have been enough to hold whatever was happening in the Netherwhere.

However, as I pronounced the final word and the power of the spell popped in my ears, I felt a huge fist of wind slam into my gut. It doubled me over and knocked me back into the shelves behind me with a crunch. The shelves were built to hold several dozen pounds of books and were sturdy to the touch. Sturdy enough that when my back slammed into them I swear I heard a pop or two. Not good.

I was a barefooted, crumpled heap of still-damp jeans. Whatever hit me went right through the protective bracelet I wore on my left wrist. I hurt in places I didn't know could hurt. It took some effort but I finally managed to twist my head so that I could look out to see where the journal was on the floor - unmoved by my spell.

The wind that I had tried to call to move the journal was now spiraling and twisting around the room like a miniature tornado. Books were being blown off their shelves and free pages swirled in the air with a growing roar in my ears.

"Put it in the shukle," I muttered through a rapidly swelling lip.

Wyck seemed to have understood what I was saying and scampered over on his hands and knees to pluck the journal up and tossed it towards the circle that had been scorched into the wood of the floor. As the journal left his fingers, a hefty tome came off a nearby shelf and clocked the boy in the side of his jaw; enough that it forced him to bite into his lip.

As soon as the journal's cover touched the wood inside the circle the wind died as though someone threw the switch on a big fan.

I lamented not not keeping the reams of blank paper for my journals in some kind of a container. The floor of the office was about a finger's thickness with loose pages and I slowly tried to rise. Being hit in the gut was worse than power crunches in the gym. I got my shoulder blades about three inches off the ground before the pain hit me and I collapsed back onto the wooden floor with a dull thud.

"Ow..." I exclaimed, trying to make light of the pain.

I rolled over onto my stomach and pulled my knees under my gut. I could feel the lump on my lip swelling with each throb of the pain in my back and stomach.

"You ok kid?"

"Wyck," he corrected me.

"I'll take that as 'yes'." I commented as I reached for the staff beside me and used it as a crutch to get to my legs.

Sir William clicked his teeth as he looked at the mess of blank paper all over the floor. "I tried to tell you, Thomas, that I thought I recognized the ward on the journal."

"Try harder next time," I groaned.

"Some kind of reflexive magic or something? Bouncing back whatever's cast on it only worse?" The boy had an uncanny knack at chiming in at the right time with the right information.

"Ok Wyck," I began reaching up with my hand to gently touch the bruise on my lip just to see how badly it had already swollen. "You sound like you know a little something about what's going on so don't make any plans on leaving until we've had our talk. For now," I glanced towards the circle and scattered pages on the floor. The swirl of the wind had moved the pages from their perch on one of the shelves to cover the floor but thankfully none of them interrupted the continuity of the protective circle opposite the door to my office.

Circles had been used in magic since the begining. They were for holding things in or keeping things out. The small circle I had burned into the wood of the floor was for keeping things in. It was only about three feet across so it wasn't really large enough for summon something but it had come in handy as an extra layer of protection on more than a few times.

"Pick up the pa..." I started.

Wyck was already on his hands and knees starting to gather the papers into neat stacks. He didn't wrinkle a page or dog-ear a single corner. The kid was meticulous, far more careful with the pages than I would have given him credit especially considering his appearance. With his help I was able to step to the circle without having to walk on the blank pages and I stared down at the journal. It laid there innocently. Anonymously. Patiently.

"One book to rule them all," I muttered.

Sir William just rolled his eyes at me from his side of the mirror at the allusion.

"Professor - can you tell me anything about the book?" I asked as I bent to help Wyck collect the pages and put them back onto the shelves as well as a few other books that had fallen in the micro-storm.

"Nothing, Thomas. Not a thing. It has been warded against my sight. Actually, there are wards against almost anything one could imagine placed on that book."

"That would take a lot of umph to be able to layer all of that magic onto something like that, wouldn't it?" I asked and stepped over to the chair behind the desk and eased into it with my staff as a crutch.

Wyck pulled himself back into the chair opposite my desk but turned it around so we could both watch the book sitting there within the circle like someone had simply dropped it from a nearby shelf. The black flames had died out or had stopped through some other means. I had only seen flames like that once before and I didn't want to bring myself to even think of what it could mean.

It was bad.

Very bad.

"So what happened after Mouse gave that to you at Fagans?" I tried to continue the conversation while I had the presence of mind to do so.

Wyck shrugged. "Dunno. I was already on my way out when he found me. He just asked me to hold onto it and then went to go talk to Fagan about something."

"That's it?" I asked and began to realize that I was bare-footed and half out of my clothes when this whole problem started. I needed to either get a shower and clean up completely or just put back on what I had taken off and ignore the feeling of walking around in wet denim.

Or not.

"He was going to meet me the next night and we were going to hold up with this guy I know. He likes to party and he likes 'em young. You know, get off the street for a while."

"I..uh... see," I tried not to judge but I really didn't like hearing that Mouse was willing to sell himself for a safe place to crash. He could have come to me and I would have let him sleep on the couch or something.

"So did Mouse find you?" I asked as I stripped off my damp socks and winced as I could feel some bruises forming on my back.

"Nope. I waited and waited but he never came. I tried to look around for him but no one one the street had seen him since he was at Fagan's place."

That settled it. I knew that I needed to go and find out what this guy knew. Getting Wyck to show me where it could be a bit more complicated.

"How... leather tomes of arcane knowledge musty with age or papyrus scrolls made fragile with the passage of time, we know from books. Aside from the books that I've collected while working for my uncle Julian's rare book business, i have a lot of journals that record my own experiences with magic and such. Julian insisted that I learn how to bind my own journals so that I could inspect and appraise books more effectively. So I have black covers for my personal journal and brown covers for magical stuff.WELL... did you know Mouse?" I asked trying to at least sound polite.

"We were close," he responded enigmatically.

"Ever see his tattoo?" I asked - testing just how close of a connection there may have been between them.

Wyck blushed. His eyes dropped from mine and he looked away immediately. Whether he wanted to conceal the details of the relationship from me or not, his face told it all.

"Oh. Ok, " I commented just trying to change the topic as quickly as possible, "Well, I am going to need your help if I'm going to find out what happened to Mouse and what's up with that book."

"I'm down." He replied and stood up as though he were ready to charge off that very minute.

"Whoa there boy. Have a seat. First thing's first." I pointed to the journal, "First, I need to lock that up somewhere until I can figure it out what it is and who might have killed Mouse for it."

"Then we can go talk to Fagan. Once you get me there, you can head off and do whatever."I explained while I stood up and tried not to let the deep inhale of breath sound too much like a moan of pain. " I don't want you to get in any more than you are."

"I'm already in over my head," Wyck snerked darkly.

"Sir William," I asked while stripping off my still-damp shirt. The centuries-old spirit appeared in a mirror nearest me on the wall and inclined his head as though he were waiting for me to finish the request. "Please keep an eye on Wyck here while I change my clothes."

"Certainly Thomas," he nodded and turned his eyes towards the boy in the chair and leveled him the full weight of his professorial death-stare. In life Sir William was a professor at Oxford in the mid-sixteenth century. He was more than accustomed to staring down students of various degree and putting the occasional upstart in his place with just a glance. Since his death and eventual enforced servitude, he had gained quite a sum of arcane knowledge though his ability to influence the world of the living was limited, he could cast his own illusions and make people think otherwise.

I looked directly at Wyck, enough to make eye contact with him, and told him to stay in the office. He nodded and I headed out and down the hall to change out of my wet clothes.

Metro: Book: Heather Coffee

2008-10-19T14:08:00.002-05:00

She's part Erin Brochovitch, part Laura Croft and all trouble.

Character Pic

2008-09-12T10:33:00.004-05:00

This is a pic of a guy from the BBC series, "HEX". In the series, he plays an angel named Azazael.

Though I'm not sure if I could use him as an angel, I have to use him for someone in Metro.

Modern bits of Architecture

2008-09-09T08:03:00.003-05:00

Thomas Book's Loft

2008-09-09T07:57:00.004-05:00

Kindred vs Vampires

2008-08-12T11:25:00.004-05:00

In the world of Metro there are two kinds of "Vampires", the Kindred and the Vampires.

Kindred appear human and can exist with limited exposure to sunlight.

Kindred saliva is hallucinogenic and will often lull their victims into a euphoric, painless state while feeding.

Vampires are undead - having gone through bloody, Red Rites to return as something more than Human. Their skin is ashen gray, they loose their hair and their fingers will slightly elongate to give them a monstrous appearance.

Vampiric saliva is paralytic, immobilizing their victims temporarily so that they can feed.

Thomas Book - Fragment

2008-08-11T23:12:00.010-05:00

This is a fragment that shows pacing of the first Chronicle of Thomas Book.

= = BACK STORY = =

THE MIDNIGHT MARKET
The Midnight Market is the Black Market of the Supernatural World of Metro; Black Magic Market. It's location is kept secret and travels around the confines of Metro - never appearing in the same place twice. It is called the Midnight Market because it only exists for one hour.

It is almost like a Rave in that those buying and selling will suddenly appear in a secret location, do their business and then as the hour strikes one a.m., they vanish.

The Council and other members of the Eastern Conclave have been trying trying to find and close such markets for decades but they seem to pop up and operate even in the face of dutiful Sheriffs and Wardens.

To traffic in (buy or sell) items found within the Midnight Market is generally grounds for a Summons to Court as this almost always involves infernal magic.

THE TWILIGHT MARKET
The Twilight Market is the Metro version of Diagon Alley from Harry Potter. It is in a fixed location (opposite the Midnight Market) in the Underground with shops and stalls of various sort. The Twilight Market sits inside a huge, vaulted cavern somewhere below Metro. There are many ways to get there and get back but the paths are often hazed or fogged with shadows and illusion magic to blind them to Mundanes.

With the plethora of candles and crystal lamps, the whole market has a twilight haze to it. Anything and everything one can imagine that would be of magical need to the Supernatural world can usually be found here.

KEEPER OF THE KEY
The Key is an object (thinking a medallion or disk of some sort) that is found using the map that is the cover of the Red Journal.

The Red Journal is the book that Wyck delivered to Book at the request of Mouse - who stole it from Iago for "Evil Bad Guy".

((Evil Bad Guy, we will eventually find out, is actually the former Sheriff for Metro who went Infernal years ago. He sent one man after Book (who ended up killing Natalya in the crossfire) a year ago and then recently sends Marco to try it again. Evil Bad Guy (EBG) is also the same person who kills Uncle Julian after Julian discovers his identity.))

The Key is a powerful artifact that the Council immediately would snatch up since it's just too powerful to leave out there on the 'Street'. It calls to certain people and whispers to them. It has a will of its own. It is Metro's version of one of the Rings of Power (LOTR); not THE ring of power, just one of them.

EBG

((Evil Bad Guy, we will eventually find out, is actually the former Sheriff for Metro who went Infernal years ago. He sent one man after Book (who ended up killing Natalya in the crossfire) a year ago and then recently sends Marco to try it again. Evil Bad Guy (EBG) is also the same person who kills Uncle Julian after Julian discovers his identity.))

EBG is still around - though more in a sagely capacity, helping people live comfortable lives. He would strike you as a Gandalf or a Dumbledoor by day and an Emperor Palpatine by night.

Julian discovers just how dark EBG is while he was also trafficing in the Black before he died.

EBG's presence will be felt for several books until there is a showdown between he and Book later on. Book will learn that it was EBG who killed Julian and will want the payback, Evil Willow style.

= = MAIN STORY - IN ORDER OF EVENTS = =

THE RIDDLE

The Red Journal is only translated partially by the "Map Guy" in the Twilight Market. The one page that was translated before the Vampires approach is a fragment of a riddle:

"with Seven Wings and Seven Rings and Seven Stars Under Heaven."

Every seven pages in the journal the languages shifts. There are seven identified languages in the book and the pattern is fairly consistent. The languages vary ancient Greek, Shadowkin, Troll, ancient Elvish, etc.

Mostly they are languages of peoples of crumbled kingdoms.

WYCK KIDNAPPED

Wyck and Book have a falling out when Book thinks that Wyck has been stealing from him.

Wyck calls Nugget from the metro station near Book's house. He is heading to the 'Nest' and plans to crash with her for a few days until things blow over with Book. Wyck never arrives. He is grabbed by two Vampires at a stop before the Nest (where Nugget is waiting for him).

((Nugget's older brother disappeared similarly 2 years ago on his way home from working at the Neverland Cafe'))

Wyck is held captive (molested, fed upon) for three days by the Vampire Iago who is searching for information on the "Key".

Nugget demands information from Book - who has no idea where Wyck went after leaving his place.

Wyck, under the power of Iago's mesmerism, says that the 'Nest' is the location of the "Key".

MARCO VS. THOMAS

Marco, a newly appointed Warden of the Conclave, uses an infernal sigil to try and kill Thomas.

Thomas, using his unorthodox method of redirecting magic, accepts the infernal bolt of balefire and redirects it back at Marco - killing him instantly.

Nugget, arriving at the mouth of the alley where Marco and Thomas are fighting, only sees Thomas redirect the infernal bolt and assumes that Thomas cast it rather than redirect.

Thomas, turning to see Nugget springing to attack him, silences her with a 'Shhh' spell.

Nugget runs to the Neverland Cafe' to tell Darcy that Thomas cast the whammy on her. She tells her that she saw Thomas cast "a ball of green fire" at a guy and kill him.

Darcy and Duke Sin, who overheard the conversation, go investigate the alley. Duke Sin immediately senses the presence of Infernal magic and leaves the scene. Darcy sees and sketches the sigil that has been burned into the man's right palm.

Darcy contacts Heather Coffee for info on the Sigil. The only reference Coffee can find is that another man was found with the same mark one year ago - around when Natalya died.

The next morning, Book has a warrant issued out on him by the Sheriff (secretly Duke Sin) for his involvement in the death of a Warden (Marco).

RESCUE WYCK

The next night, Book is contacted by Augur, the blind Seer, that Wyck needs him and can be found at a specific point in the city.

((Augur offers the information to repay an earlier, undisclosed, debt))

Wyck finally is able to snap the rusted bedsprings and escapes down a drainage grate - leaving at least five other people who are held captive with him.

Wyck falls down into a sewage / drainage stream and floats along for a while until he manages to grab ahold of a ladder set into the wall and climbs up forever. He eventually pushes aside a manhole cover and is found by Book.

Pouring Wyck into his jeep, Book takes him back to the firehouse and cleans him up.

DELIVERING A WARRANT

With Wyck resting, Book waits for word of his return to the firehouse to reach the Sheriff on the second floor balcony. Coffee arrives and displays the "Mark of the Herald" (blue glyph on the back of her hand visible to magic-folk) to signify that she's there on business.

Book lets Coffee into the house and she discovers that he's rigged the house's defenses to repell a magical seige. Every ward is activated, every counter-attack is armed. He's playing jazz - to calm him down and let him think. It's the same Jazz he listened to when Natalya died.

Coffee listens to the whole story but is duty-bound to deliver the Warrant and escort Book to the Court to answer the charges. Rather than leaving the Firehouse, and put himself at the mercy of every one on the street who would attack him for the warrant (sometimes considered a bounty) or for information on "The Key" - Coffee pulls the Court to them (virtually) through the various mirrors on the walls with Sir William's help.

COURT

Coffee has information about the Infernal Sigil that was used one year ago against Natalya. It is enough to remove that stain from Book's name for Marco's death. Marco, using infernal magic, was guilty of violating one of the laws of magic and Book was just in defending himself against it with lethal force.

ATTACKED

Before the Court can get into the crux of the matter with Book, but after he was cleared of the more serious charge of Infernalism, the firehouse comes under attack.

Vampires, under the command of Iago, have attacked whatever street-folk who were watching to see if Book would emerge. This is the supernatural equivalent of having the police surrounding a place and having sent in negotiators. With a few dead at the rear of the house, the others scatter for the cafe' or the metro line.

Coffee, who has "officially" delivered the summons, can not 'arrest' Book; only Wardens of the Sheriff can do that. With the attack, the connection tho the Court is broken.

Wyck is too sick and injured to travel far and so Coffee tells Book to take him to the Sisters. As a Herald, she can't help or hinder him - but she can help Wyck.

((Three old witches who are part of the House of Avalon. They have a "House of Healing" on the opposite side of town))

Book gets Wyck to down a shot of 'Super Coffee' so he can walk and the two escape out Book's basement and through the tunnels that eventually lead to the Boardwalk.

DESTRUCTION OF THE NEST
((Not sure where this fits))

Nugget returns to the Nest where her and a few friends have squatted. It's not much but it's dry, warm and usually out of the sight of anyone who would do them harm. They have to be careful about letting anyone see them sneak into the place for fear that they will be discovered (by the police or other forces) so she has to take a weird way in.

Late at night, she climbs up the fire escape of a nearby building and then crossing the roof to shinny down to a ledge and then cross a gap that's bridged by a pirate-like, plank-bridge to another building. From there she can enter through a sky-light.

At some point in the process of her entering the squat, she picks up that there's something wrong. When she enters the squat she sees that the other four friends are all dead; slaughtered. As she tries to escape, a Vampire, still feeding on one of her friends in another room - hears her and tries to attack. She manages to kick his hand free and climb out onto the roof.

The plank-bridge isn't designed for combat or quick escapes so she ends up falling from it to the alley below as the Vampire follows her.

((2 stories down. Enough to screw her up for a while but not kill her. ))

The Vampire jumps down on top of her but ends up stabbing himself with a stake and ashes himself.

Wyck, Book or someone find her and take Nugget to the Sisters (of the House of Avalon) where she heals up and pledges herself to become a full-fledged vampire-hunter complete with bow and arrow. This, however, is another story.

THE MIDNIGHT MARKET
((Not sure where this fits either))

Coffee or Book would have reason to try and find the Midnight Market as part of an on-going research for the origin of this very powerful Infernal Sigil that not only destroys the caster but also consumes their soul in the process. By using all of this power it normally rips through normal magical shields and thus ensures the immediate death of its intended victim.

Book can't be seen investigating this matter as his earlier involvement has put him on the Sheriff's "Watch List". Any suspect behavior would result in his imprisonment, death or ostracism.

Thomas Book: Timeline

2008-08-11T22:06:00.005-05:00

This is going to be where I post the known dates for the Chronicles of Thomas Book (as opposed to the Journals of James Blackthorn, the Steam-Pulp character).

1976, June - Child (male, unnamed) stillborn to Daniel and Margarette Book.

1976, August - Thomas Book born to Julian (name?) and Lucette. Lucette dies in child birth.

1976, September (6 days after birth) - Julian leaves Thomas with his sister and her husband and leaves to deal with the death of his fiance.

1976-1994 - Julian occasionally visits Margarette and Daniel (and Thomas) and presents himself as Thomas' uncle. Thomas and Julian exchange letters regularly. Julian often sends Thomas post-cards from his travels.

1994, September - Thomas enrolls at Harvard University to study Archaeology.

1998, September - Thomas is accepted into a small, paleography (ancient writing) program at Poague University (Ashland Kentucky - prior to creation of Metro)

1999, "Winter" - Thomas gets a new roommate, Alex Saunders - an undergraduate in Photography.

1999, "Spring" - Thomas meets Raymond, Nugget's older brother, through Alex.

2001, "Winter" - Thomas parents, Margarette and Daniel, die in a head-on car wreck.

2001, "Spring" - Julian moves his business from New Orleans to the newly thriving city of 'Metro'.

2001, "Summer" - Thomas starts to work for Julian as an 'agent' to identify, appraise, buy and sell rare books.

2002 - 2003 - Thomas travels throughout the US and into Europe on "buying trips".

2003, "Spring" - Julian dies of a "heart attack" while Thomas is in London. Julian actually dies of an infernal curse. No body is found - only remains.

2003, "Summer" - Thomas takes over Julian's business and inherits the fire house (with bookstore below).

2003, "Fall" - Thomas discovers Julian's secret and starts to learn magic from Julian's journals and the House spirit, Sir William.

2006, "Spring" - Thomas meets Natalya Poriskaya on a case of demonic possession.

2006, "Summer" - Thomas meets Natalya again and they begin to date.

2007, "Winter" - Thomas asks Natalya to marry him, but this starts a huge problem between the Gypsy families and Thomas. Wizards and Gypsies are in the middle of a supernatural cold war and so the engagement is called off (at least publically).

2007, "Spring" - Natalya is killed in the cross-fire between Thomas and a man using Infernal magic.

2008, Spring - Mouse, Natalya's younger brother, jumps off a four-story building and dies.

(story begins)

Vampire Eyes

2008-08-03T14:54:00.003-05:00

The eyes of a vampire are unique, rather than being a single point of black at the center like a human or the slits of a cat, there are actually three 'slits'. These slits allow them to see more in lower levels of light.

Thomas Book - Index

2008-08-03T12:04:00.006-05:00

Note:

Originally, these posts were under the name "Thomas Blackthorn". I have decided to change the name of the main character to "Thomas Book" and use the name 'Blackthorn' for the pulp fiction stories set in the 1920's.

The world of Thomas Book is influenced by the writings of Jim Butcher's Dresden Files, the Hellboy series and Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.

Magic is real but dangerous. There are still things that go bump in the night and it's a dangerous place.

Full Story: Thomas Book and the Curse of the Key (working title)

Part 1: A Funeral for Mouse
Part 2: Delivery for the Dead
Part 3: Blood-Stained Journal

Thomas Book, Part 2

2008-08-02T09:21:00.001-05:00

Thomas Book is an Urban Mage; that is he sells his magic to the highest bidder.

Click Here for Part 1: A Gypsy Funeral

Edited from 4/14/08

The guy stood there, caught. Well, he was almost more of a kid than a guy. He had somehow gotten upstairs and was standing in my office. That was a mistake.

My apartment was on the second floor of the fire house that I had inherited from my uncle Julian and my office was in the back, right corner. It was where Julian kept his journals and all of the rare books he had collected over the years. It was a combination study and library with bookshelves lining three of the four walls and a display of artifacts on the fourth. It was my study; my space.

How did he get in?

This kid had to have crawled up the fire escape or something. I don't have much for anyone to steal; nothing worth much to anyone outside the Trade. You don't really see many people trying to steal rare books - there are a lot of things that are easier to steal and easier to sell. I was expecting Marco to send me a message, but sending a kid was something unexpected. He was too clean to be a street-rat and didn't have the look of a junkie. This threw me; enough that my mind blanked. Maybe he was here for a book? Well, he found one; Me.

"Who sent you?"

It was all that I could ask. As stupid as it sounds it was still a legitimate question. If he was one of Marco's boys then I figured that he was here with some kind of message. He started to move rather than answer my question and I chose to make my intentions clear. Cocking the hammer on a pistol is the universal gesture for Don't Move.

He raised his hands in the counter gesture of Don't Shoot. That's when I saw the mark. On the inside of his left wrist was a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, but an alchemical symbol; sulfur. The symbol was easy to identify for anyone of the Walden Witches who had picked up a book on alchemy, let alone anyone in the Trade. It was a combination of symbols; a cross with not one line but two across the center bar - the bottom line wider than the top. At the bottom of the center bar was a figure-eight set where the two orbs meet at their intersection. The presence of the symbol could mean anything - he could be marked by a cult, a gothy, high-school click, or worse.

As much as he was shocked at being caught, he was twice as confused by my question. He looked from my eyes to the muzzle of the pistol, back to my eyes and then to a window nearest the fire escape. I didn't want to shoot him, but I didn't want to let him leave until I found out if he had stolen something.

The end of the hall was the access door for circular fire escape. He glanced around nervously for a way out and I stepped into the room from the doorway as I cupped the butt of the pistol with my left hand like I had seen on all of the cop shows. I wasn't the best shot in the world but I was hoping that he wouldn't figure that out. Just then, as the edge of his vest hung up on the strap of his satchel I could see the edge of a red, leather journal tucked into his belt.

That was reason enough for me to blow a hole in someone. I know people have their reasons to steal, but grabbing a journal is about the most serious sin I could imagine. The only reason I didn't shoot first and ask some questions of his ghost was that he was standing between me and a parchment fragment framed on the wall. I was such a bad shot that I might accidentally shoot through the kid.

He looked like he might try and run so I cocked the pistol's hammer; universal language for 'don't move'.

"I got something from Mouse," he said with a lilt of fear and trembling in his voice.

"Mouse is dead. Keep talking." I responded; the mask of confidence and authority becoming tainted with the fresh memory of the funeral.

"You're Book, right? Mouse said to bring this to you if anything happened to him." The kid explained and tried to reach for the edge of the journal.

I didn't know if was on the level or not so I barked out a warning that I would shoot him if he tried anything.

Just then, as carefully pulled the journal from his belt, the tinkle of silver bells filled the room. As though a dozen wind chimes had suddenly been hit by the same gust of wind at the same time, the room was filled with a silvery cacophony. One of my protective wards had been tripped.

Something was trying to push its way into the fire house.

Then it hit me, if the boy had meant me harm there would already be the sound of the tiny silver bells ringing as soon as I got inside. Even half-soaked as I was, I wouldn't have missed such a warning. What was going on?

"Thomas," the voice of my tutor beckoned from a mirror on the wall behind me. "We are under attack.

"Who is that?" the boy asked pointing to the form of a man who appeared only in the reflection of the mirror on the wall of antiques behind me.

"Who is this?" Sir William, my tutor, asked with the same, imperious tone he once used for his students back at Oxford; Oxford in 1732.

"I don't know. What's coming?" I asked as I twitched the barrel of the pistol in my hand to signal the boy to have a seat.

"You, what's your name?" I asked as I eased the pistol's hammer down.

"Wyck," he answered and watched the reflection in the mirror - wondering how he was shown there yet there was no person in the room.

"Can't you people have normal names for a change?" Sir William groaned.

"Sir William?" I asked as I reached for the wooden staff that rested against the window behind my desk.

A storm was coming yet there were no clouds. Just as rain had appeared to mark Mouse's funeral, the darkness of a coming storm had blotted out the sun over my house. The windows grew dark and the wind began to whistle outside. The breathy whistle twisted in its pitch to become a whirr and then into a wooshy howl.

"Tornado?" Wyck asked as he stuffed the burnt-red, leather journal into his satchel but remained seated and finally drew his eyes off of the mirror.

"By the air. This is no spell Thomas. Something is in the wind." The tutor explained.

"Lilitu," Wyck muttered as though he were figuring out a cross-words puzzle.

"Be silent boy!" Sir William commanded.

"Don't be saying the names of things you don't know nothing about kid." I grumbled as I held the staff defensively across my chest.

Once I had calmed my mind a bit, I focused my thoughts on the energies of my staff and the protective wards around the fire house. Once I had the right image caught in my mind I slammed the butt of the staff into the wooden floor of my office as though I were driving a nail. Well, that's almost what I was doing. I needed to drive the energy around me through my staff straight through the floors of the building until it reached the bedrock below. Once it hit real earth it could fan out to each of the four hearth stones that uncle Julian had buried at the four corners that marked north, south, east and west. They were my own, personal, magical claymores.

The wind's howl began to drown out almost every other sound though I could still hear Wyck's voice cursing his luck over and over again. The boy left the chair he was sitting in and curled up in a ball away from any of the windows. I couldn't stop what I was doing to stop him but he wasn't going any where. I needed to focus on the defenses.

It wasn't something that I could call up all the time, but Julian's journals described the stones as a 'rainy day weapon'; something to only be used one in a great while since it took so long for them to recharge. As soon as the energy reached the stones they erupted in a torrent of arcane energy. Whatever supernatural darkness that had surrounded my home ate the magical equivalent of a dozen lightning bolts. With the shriek of pain and defeat, the darkness faded with the suddenness of a summer shower.

"Fuck..." Wyck commented as he slowly opened his eyes and relaxed his muscles.

I had to force my fingers to let go of the staff I was holding on so tight. I hadn't used the stones before and I severely underestimated how much juice they needed to work. I was all but exhausted as I turned to look at the boy. I noticed that steam was rising off of my forearms and chest; the result of channeling so much energy through my staff. I didn't have the energy to fight with Wyck and thankfully I could see he was more afraid of what was outside than what was inside.

"Start talking kid..." I put the staff back against the corner of the window next to the bookcase and eased myself into my chair. Just to make sure that I wasn't finished with him, I clapped the pistol on my desk and rested my chin on my fist.

This was going to be an interesting story.

**END**

Chapter 3 to come.

Space Colony: Ships

2008-05-28T19:43:00.004-05:00

Possibly used as cargo-transport ships.

Thomas Blackthorn

2008-04-09T13:48:00.029-05:00

Thomas Book is an Urban Mage; that is he sells his magic to the highest bidder. About a year ago, he was expelled from the Council, the "Power Players" of Metro's Magical community, after he killed one of them. Though it was eventually proven that the killing was justified, he was no longer welcomed amongst them.

With the eyes of the Sheriff and his Wardens on him constantly, he walks a narrow line in the dark allies of Metro. Without the connections of the Council to keep him financially afloat, he has had to dip his toes into some murky waters; Vampires, Vengeful Spirits, and Vagabond alike. Unlike the Council members, Thomas does not live in luxury with a gaggle of servants to maintain him. Most of his wealth was stripped from him by the vulturous harpies in the Council as soon as he lost his standing. Their curses were flung as freely as their insults and within a few weeks he was thought to be broken. He managed to escape with a few bucks, a broken-down, old building and a few books of magic.

EDIT (Ignore anything in red. It's old or just notes to me)
ORIGINAL
NEW (this should be read as part of the story)

Part 1

2. Investigation of the boy's death.
3. Discovery of a Thief.
4. Problems with the Church
5. Another Witch Hunt

Stone & Stream

2008-03-31T18:06:00.004-05:00

In the hills above "the village" lies a stone circle. The circle of stones is situated on a small island in a crescent-shaped recess of three waterfalls.

Witch World

2008-02-04T18:41:00.000-05:00

The Witch World is sort of a mix of the World of Darkness and Neverwhere.

I have nothing against the World of Darkness, but it's just too powerful. I like the subtle magics found in Neverwhere.

Brainstorming Elements:

Midnight Market
Crones Court
Council of Elders (Bickering about the color of the Moon and the best way to ensure the survival of their realm)
Sheriff (Keeping the Peace)
Warden (trying to keep the two worlds separate)
Cat / Bat / Rat-Speakers
Oracles (Freudian Prophecies)
Magi (Hedge Wizards - not alter the universe)
Vampires (More cursed than blessed - depends on how you look at it)
Shifters (No, not to Crinos)
Haunted Houses and Crossroads
Witches (Those born to it)
Silver Skeleton Keys opening doorways not just doors.
Fel Speakers (Demon whispers who are NOT trying to calm things down)
Black-eyed Demons (thank you Supernatural)
Street Shamen (Everything that is... is alive)
Motley Crews
Street Gypsies

Midnight Market

2008-02-04T17:38:00.001-05:00

The Midnight Market is a meeting of the supernatural forces in a given area. Generally considered neutral territory, the Market is often held on either the night of the full moon or its opposite. The Market gets its name from when it exists; perpetually between the hours of 11:30 p.m. and 12:30 a.m. Suspended in the sliver of time at the end of one day and the beginning of the next, it exists separate from the mundane world; a pocket pushed into the space between the mundane and the mystical world.

Each community has its own midnight market though not every enclave can support a communal path to get there. Some Markets, such as those in New York and other larger cities, move the Market around so that no one area has undue influence over what happens there. In smaller areas, the market is held collectively and protected by the members of the community.

For those Enclaves who can't support a path to get to the Market, the normal means to gain entry involves a bridge, generally where one can get 'inside' a crossroads. This may be a tunnel under the road or an overpass. Opening the path varies from tradition to tradition, but generally it involves some natural portal like an archway. Through the inscription of symbols, or the tapping of stones or sometimes even the singing of a particular song, the Otherkin can walk through the arch and arrive at the Market.

Upon arrival to the market, the general flavor is colored by the magical 'bones' of the area.

Imagine walking through a stone arch in a park or under a bridge and in one step be in a medieval setting like the set of Robin Hood. The appearance of the Midnight Market is entirely dependent upon the 'essence' of mundane world where the Enclave is based. Places where the energies are old will tend to appear as though they are reflection of some medieval landscape. Other places where the energy may be mixed between the old and new, might have a patchwork of elements that vary from the medieval to the modern; London fog with a splash of Middle Eastern bazaar.

This is the Color of the Midnight Market.

People come to the Market to find whatever is needed. Small bits of dragon (thought to be extinct even within the Witch World), the odd fetish, and dried mandrake root is just scratching the surface. Where people get the most out of the Market is all of the networking that occurs within the rows of stalls. Needing a spell cast for you? Needing some help with a particularly pesky imp? Bodyguards, Servants, Seers and the like will often ply their talents for the highest bidder.

If its information that you need, the mystical coffee houses, along the same lines as a Turkish cafe, are where the news of the Otherworld are discussed and the pulse of the worlds are monitored. Several powerful Otherkin make themselves available to those who need to find out what is happening either above or below the magical radar.

Though the neutrality of the Midnight Market is observed by most, the need to occasionally enforce the peace requires that the grounds are patrolled. The leader of the peace-keepers is traditionally known as the 'Sheriff'; a definite connection to the ancestral European roots of the Market.

The Sheriff and those who serve him, the Wardens, are commonly identified by the wearing of a black cloak and a red hooded mantle. The authority of the Wardens or the Sheriff only stretches to the boundaries of the Market, but in some Enclaves their rank can extend to the mundane world as well. When walking in the mundane world these badges of office can manifest as a black trench coat and a red scarf or bandanna.

Prometheus - Chapter 1.1

2008-01-26T22:38:00.000-05:00

Prometheus

2008-01-18T16:54:00.000-05:00

Prometheus is a project that I've been working with for a while. It's only now that I have access to the new Window Movie Maker in Vista that I can more easily put the ideas and images together into a coherent form.

Ideally, I'll find the time and direction to create small, video serials that will help explain the story of along. I find and splice segments of video from various movies together and tie in some music to help convey the basic idea of the plot; very similar to a story board.

In this first chapter, I am using footage from the movies: Serenity and Pitch Black. I already have started work on Chapter 1.1 but even three minutes takes a while to compile.

I'm not sure where the story is going but it should be an interesting trip.

Chapter 1.0

The colonists and crew aboard the Prometheus sleep away the 14 month voyage to their new home on Syan; a remote and newly established colony world. A collision with a micro-meteor storm sends the ship off course and they crash land on an unknown planet.

Crones Court

2008-01-15T15:56:00.000-05:00

Something for another project:

Crones Court

Fall 2007

Normally held at local / regional festivals
Often completed prior to the evening rituals
Crones of the Region sit in council to advise the populace regardless of tradition.

Any Crown in attendance can be invited by the host group (coven / cabal) to sit in council.
Proclamations for the Good of the People:

i. News of the local events coming up.

ii. Awards / gifts for the accomplishments of the People

1. New Third-Degree recipients may be noted by the Crowns with a small token or gift.

2. Creation or dissolution of Covens / Cabals within the Region.

Petitions for the good of the people:

i. Fostering to another to be tested for a 3^rd Degree / Master Rank.

ii. Calls for Trials of Competency

1. Prevents a HP / HPs / Leader from using their students / Apprenti in a manner against the Good of the People.

2. Can be used to remove a HP, HPS, Leader if the Council fo Crones and the other “Masters” fail to recognize that person’s authority.

Logistics:

i. Crones Tea

1. A meeting of the Crones who will sit in council, the hose HPS / Leader and any “Master” having business with the Court.

2. Generally an assistant to the HPS / Leader will keep a Record of the Court’s schedule to ensure it runs smoothly.

Nutri-Bars

2007-12-15T03:11:00.000-05:00

Space Colony

Any new Colony would need to keep its members healthy and well-fed. As securing protein and food materials from local flora and fauna would be difficult if not impossible for the first few years, an easily transported source of food would be needed.

As this need would contribute to the ever-widening colonization market, several earth-based companies produced nutritional supplement bars. These meal bars were full of immunization medication, vitamins, protein and calories.

The basic formula for the bars was that each one could keep one adult alive for one day.

The flavorings were not the best. Some companies experimented with beef and chicken additives but none were able to truly capture enough flavoring to make them a hot commodity.

Nutri-bars became the food stores of the moderately poor colonists. Flavor wasn't the largest priority.

Some colonists were known to add a Nutri-bar to a soup or stew and cover the bland taste with other seasonings that were available.

INSPIRATION: Firefly (Serenity), Lost In Space (movie)

MutEx Scouts / Pirates

2007-12-15T02:37:00.000-05:00

Mut-Ex (MU-TEX)

Mutant Exploration

Mutant Exploration of space.

Humans were considered poorly suited for deep space exploration so the scientific community decided to make some improvements. The scientists borrowed DNA from various animals to increase stamina, agility and muscle density. A few of the MutEx Scouts were given above normal intellects so be able to handle the multitude of navigation calculations more efficiently.

Most scouts were never heard from again; considered a lost cause and never searched for if lost. Hundreds of MutEx scout ships were sent out to find new homes for the citizens of Earth. Only 9 found anything close to a habitable world. Eight were deemed appropriate for colonization and were put on the fast track to be converted to a habitable atmosphere or for the construction of surface domes.

The ninth world, a medium-sized moon, was considered to be too hazardous for navigation and left alone. There were several rumors that one of the more intelligent MutEx scouts was able to overcome the psychological conditioning to obey his orders and found a world for himself and others like him. MutEx scout ships were not designed for inter-atmosphere travel; primarily to search out worlds with breathable or near-breathable atmospheres from orbit. If all of the MutEx scout ships crashed into their hidden world, there would be no threat. If any of them survived, they would be bound to the planet.

The problem is that they did survive and the Scouts, with their genetic enhancements, flourished. While the new eight colony worlds were being established and the settlers pushed their way out from Earth to their new homes, the Scouts turned themselves into pirates; attacking colony ships for provisions and materials.

It was because of the MutEx pirates that the Colonization Council established an armed patrol to escort the ships.

MutEx Pirates are the stuff of legend. Some say that they eat the people they catch on board the ships and others believe that they eject them to space. Either way, MutEx "MU-tex" has become a synonym for danger; a space-faring bogey man.

Two or three generations of being exposed to a number of different types of radiation has warped their appearance and that of their children giving them an almost monstrous appearance.

INSPIRATION: Reavers (Firefly), Morloc (Time Machine)

Blackthorn: Travel and Technology

2007-12-07T16:26:00.002-05:00

In the Jules Verne-esque, Steampunk world of Thomas Book, travel is handled a bit differently than what was documented in the years prior to 1920. Specifically, the technology of travel is considerably different.

LAND:
The most common form of transportation was across land; generally in the form of the steam locomotive.

Train tracks criss-crossed the various nations of the world. From the metropolis cities of the United States to the untamed wilds of Eastern Europe, rail was the fastest way to travel on land. As this meant that passengers would be on the tracks for days at a time (for longer voyages) several of the rail companies created palaces of locomotive luxury where the wealthy could recline and relax and enjoy the scenery.

More than a few wealthy Coal and 'Steam' barons, invested in their own rail cars to the extent that they became almost like a mechanical yacht and were used to tour around the country whenever needed.

Cities such as Chicago and New York have even created smaller rails that encircle their borders and even travel under ground to move people here and there. (Steam-powered Subway)

SEA:
Aside from land travel, the next most common form of transport is that of ocean travel. Steam-powered ships like the Titanic disgorge an innumerable mass of passengers at the ports of San Francisco, New York and London every week. Again, as travel is slower greater luxury has been created for those who can afford it.

A recent project to increase shipping from the east to the west has been the creation of a canal near the South American city of Panama.

AIR:

The least common form of transport is that of Air Travel. Only the wealthy could afford such means but for those who could, it became a floating palace to move from city to city. Considerably faster than rail travel because of their ability to ignore topography, Air Ships are extensively used in Europe where the terrain makes rail travel lengthy.

Newly adopted by the American cities, Air Ship tethers are becoming more and more common for the skyscrapers in Los Angels, New York and Chicago.

Thomas Book: Jade Dragon

2007-12-02T14:55:00.002-05:00

A picture of the Jade Dragon figurine