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OOC Thread

Liam saw them. Heard them. The snow did its best to swallow up any sound, yes, but he knew they were there. Some only watched and shook their heads. Some recoiled in fear and buried themselves in the shadows. And some who just hadn’t learned were poised for the kill.

The ruthless wind licked at the back of Liam’s thick coat as he ambled along a lonely street in one of the northeastern reaches of White City. The moon and the stars illuminated the snow banked up along the sides of buildings and made it blue. The nights were only blue in this way when the moon was nearly full. The nights. It was always night in this confounded city. Without electricity the lamps that watched over the streets were as dark and lifeless as the rest of the place.

Oh, the street looked quiet enough, but Liam knew better. The Victorian mansions and churches that walled in the streets were falling apart and broken into. There were few unbroken window panes and debris from the houses’ siding and shingles a completely collapsed building littered the cobblestone roads. This must have been a particularly rich part of town, Liam had assumed, if ever people did live here before.

But people did live here now. Not the original inhabitants, but the sort that hide in those ruined homes, bury themselves in rubble, and sneak along dark alley ways, waiting to slice your throat or club you over the head or something equally barbaric, just for the coat on your back.

Coats were hard to come by. Everything was hard to come by. And when money was meaningless, the only thing you could do is take what you want from others. It was dirty and immoral, but no one cared about that anymore. Not here.

There was shuffling up ahead to the left. Liam turned his head, but walked further ahead all the more, not changing pace. Carefully he reached inside his coat and closed his gloved hand around a pistol. Yes, a pistol! A Glock, to be more specific, or so Liam assumed from his limited knowledge of handguns. It was stolen, of course, but it still had ammunition. Chances are the poor sap he got it from had stolen it from someone else. But it was new to Liam.

Before he had a chance to reach the corner and peer around, three shadowy figures leaped into plain view, illuminated from above and below from the moon and the glowing snow. Liam didn’t take his time to study them, but two appeared to be large men, accompanied by a smaller woman. Instinctively Liam ripped the gun from his coat and aimed. He would have fired (one doesn’t take changes in White City), but bullets were precious and few.

“Stand down!” shouted one of them. A woman, clad in armor created from pieces of leather, wood, and wrought iron metal from the rusted fences in White City. She bore a bladed weapon that looked like it had been made from organic parts, but the blades and bones couldn’t have possibly come from any normal human or animal. “You’re outnumbered. This area is protected and you can either run or be cut down!”

Liam lowered his pistol. “Oh, Cassie, it’s you.”

“So you—Oh! Liam!” The woman gestured to the other two men who appeared to relax. “What are you doing out here alone? Even with us around you know it’s dangerous.”

“Investigating.” Liam shrugged, grinning and tucking the Glock back into his coat. “Someone from my community house ran off and I hoped to find him before someone else did.”

“That was stupid of him.” Cassie shook her head. “Even more stupid of you. You could have sought me out and have us keep an eye out. You know better than to come out here by yourself.”

“It was a reckless decision, yes,” Liam nodded.

“We’ll take you back home, and we’ll look for your friend. What does he look like?”

Liam waved his arms. “That isn’t necessary. My home is just around the corner here.”

“Oh. Well take care. And be more careful. You’re one of the few good ones in White City. I’d hate to see you dead in a snowbank somewhere.” Cassie and her two guards retreated back into the alleyway. Liam stood there for several moments, staring at nothing. Then he turned around and headed back where he came from.

Maybe later, Liam mused. When Cassie and her troupe are somewhere else.

The truth was he had been making a trip down this road five or six times every moon cycle for the last three months. He hadn’t told anyone why. Not yet. But soon, he decided.

Something caught his eye and Liam glanced down at his arm. Blood on his coat. Still wet. Stooping, he washed it off in the snow. Hah! How careless of him. Liam was fortunate, though. It was by the greatest stroke of luck Cassie hadn’t seen it.

Or the body buried in the snow further up the street.

__________________
A golden bird that flies away, a candle's fickle flame,
To think I loved you yesterday, my love was just a game.
--
Heaven's not enough, if when I get there, I don't remember you.
I saw so many things, but like a dream, it lost me in a cloud.
There, most everything is nothing that it seems. Where you see the things you only want to see.
I'd fly away to a higher plane.
I resist to float away.
To sigh.
To breathe.
Forget.


Come and chat with us. RPGuild IRC Chatroom.

It's was just rather ironic to name this city 'White City', for people who heard of such a name would instantly think of the words such as pure, innocent and perhaps a virgin. But that was far from the truth, and the real reason it's called White City for it was always snowing. And freaking hell, she hate snow. She never knew why, but whenever she looked at the white substance, she felt a deep sorrow inside of her. And yet, even if she tried hard to pry out of her mind on the reason, she couldn't. Even how she arrived here, she couldn't bring out the memory. Only that the next thing she woke up, she was lying on the snow-covered ground, all cold, all confused and now wondering what the heck she should do now.

But that was a few weeks back. Now she at least knew her way around here, even in the dark but that didn't meant she should relax whenever she dared to walk around during the night. The people around here, hiding in the rubbles were either cowering out of fear, or some would be even hiding in the shadows to take a chance to leap out and just murder you right at the spot. Yes, it was immoral but moral rights were forgotten here. Anybody can kill, just for anything you own and ironically, one did tried to kill her just for the silver-rimmed glasses she adorn over the bridge of her nose. That was how desperate people can be, especially in this place.

A young Asian female walked down the snowey path, her dark brown eyes gazing up into the sky for a moment to watch the moon in the pitch black sky. Her black leather shoes made crunching noises as she slowly walked her way down the snow-covered grounds, her hands tucked into her coat's pockets as she tried to keep them warm. God, she just hate the biting cold in this area, but she couldn't do anything. Heck, if she could even run away from this damned place, she would had done it ages ago.

Silently, she brought her hands out from the pockets to breathe out her warm breath over her palms then rubbed her hands together to cause some friction, and in return to cause some warmth into her freezing hands. Her jet black hair tied into a low ponytail, was swaying with the passing chilley wind before her ears caught sounds of footsteps heading towards her, despite the footsteps were awfully silent.

She didn't understand why, but her senses were very keen and she just took advantage of her slightly heightened senses because after all, she need them for survival. Carefully, she brought her hand down into her pocket to retrieve a small knife from the inner pocket of her coat, hiding the hilt and blade beneath her palm for now. She continued her walking though now increasing her pace, and it seemed the footsteps behind her followed suit.

Great. She didn't want to do this, since she just had to murder someone out of defense, and now another crazy fellow wanting something out of her and was willing to kill her for them. When she neared a corner of a building, she quickly bent the corner and broke into a run, her ears catching the footsteps following behind her and also breaking into a run o catch after her. Damn, this person was persistent.

Only when she slowed down did she realized she had got herself into a dead end, and she swore out loud when she was facing the wall blocking her supposed escape. Finally, she turned around to face a rather menacing looking man who had every intention to murder her right there. She released a sigh and unfortunately for the guy, she didn't looked afraid at all. Actually, she looked like she was anticipating for this. But the fellow didn't care; he just wanted that wonderful-looking coat she wore upon her, and perhaps that elegant pair of glasses she was wearing.

When the fellow lunged at her, the Chinese female sidestepped and taking this oppurtunity when she noticed the fellow was stumbling in his footing, the knife she was holding in her hand glinted before she stabbed the poor fellow in the gut with a furious pace. The fellow gurgled, his eyes widened before his body slowly went limp and when she withdrew the blade out, the lifeless body fell to the snow soundlessly.

Her dark brown eyes flickered towards the corpe before she neared it and prod the body with her shoe to see whether he was still alive. No movement from the body; she had took another life, and yet she seemed so casual. She felt as if she had done this several times before and yet she didn't knew why.

She slowly bent downwards to clean the blood off from the blade with the snow before she neared the body and checked for any items she could find. She only found a lighter, some bullets as ammunition for a gun and she arched an eyebrow when she found another item. It was a handgun, with some ammunition in it as well. It must be her lucky day. The corners of her lips lifted a bit when she checked the weapon, then tucked it into her inner pocket of her coat. She better return to the community house she had been staying since she arrived.

__________________

"I hate butterflies. Because I hate beautiful things. Also, knowing itself being just an insect that can be captured by anyone. Moreover, I hate seeing them pinned as art pieces."

Why had she come here? What could have possibly provoked her to go to this desolate imperfect world? Lana's mind was foggy, her memories unclear, and she couldn't remember anything from the recent past. What she did remember was taking a long journey, miles and miles, to find a better life for herself and her unborn child who would soon be entering the world. Why then had she come here?

Alas, it was too late as she had made her deal with the guards and was now trapped here. How was she trapped here? She honestly could not answer the question, however, she knew that there was no way out unless she were to give them something which would destroy her very being. Now, she wandered around taking in her new surroundings while clutching her belly in an attempt to shield it from whatever may try and harm her greatest treasure.

Lana had wandered here with nothing but a knapsack and thankfully a jacket. Although it was not thick and probably wouldn't be able to compete with the cold which made her shiver, it would be some form of protection. The other things she kept was some food, water, and a photograph of her now dead husband.

He had been such a good man, the sole provider. Although he had hit her occasionally, she did not take it against him because he was a man and sometimes they were prone to violent tempers. Afterward, he would always come back to her apologizing and with some sort of present to show how sorry he was for leaving that bruise across her face which would prevent her from leaving the house for the next two weeks. She loved him dearly and had completely depended upon him for protection.

When she had become pregnant, Jake had been overjoyed. He hadn't hit her since then to show his pride in her that she had done something right and could finally be rewarded. Oh, the first 4 months had been magnificent until Jake had gotten sick with an advanced form of cancer. It hit him fast, shutting down his organs and eventually killing him while he lay in a hospital bed. His medical expenses forced Lana to sell the house and now she was alone. Alone but for the child which kicked in her belly.

Lana had left. She left the wretched town with its bad memories and went out to find solace, a peaceful place to have her child. Why then wouldn't the White City be perfect? As she had come upon the gates, the guards had made a deal with her as they had with all others who lived within and she had gladly taken it, never expecting that she would want to leave so soon after entering. But why did she ever come to this city in the first place? This she did not know. All she could remember was making the deal with the guards and then finding herself here, alone, in the empty streets with nothing but her meager belongings and the hope of a new start.

As she looked around her new settings, a new emotion gripped her: fear. She was afraid for now she had no one, no protection, and she was in a weakened state. How would she make a living? Where could she go? Perhaps she could find someone else, a new husband to make everything better for her. Had those been her initial thoughts upon leaving her old home? Confused and rather dazed she began to walk down the street in search of someone, anyone, who might offer her the chance of getting back onto her feet.

Lana truly had no idea what she had just gotten herself into.

__________________
LiZi wuz hurr. (Don't you just HATE gangster talk?)

The cold... the ever biting cold, it ate at the bone and tore at the lungs never letting it's violent assault of the senses go unfelt. The howling wind always playing in the background seemed to be only noise that ever played here.... in this city of white, the white city he heard it called once. Ironically there could not have been a better name for this never ending hell, to think of white for most people would be to see light, innocence, peace.... but here... in this city white was just the opposite, it was funny how it represented anything dark in this city, that is if one could even call it a city. No... it was not a city, but a kingdom... one of which nightmares are born and dreams perish. The White City was nothing but A Dark Kingdom.

How long had he been here, how long had he been rotting in this dismal place, this was something he did not know. Time seemed at an eternal stand still here as the months turned into years, the weeks turned into months, and days into weeks. Every waking second was like a never ending lifetime of agony and suffering. Sleep had not touched his wary bones in ages, further evidenced by the dark rings under his heavily lidded eyes. It was one of the things he missed the most the ability to just drift off so easily into a blissful hibernation, but no, something had taken that luxury away... fore now it seemed sleep would be the last thing to ever reach him.

Young Joshua lays sullen, his tired body leaned up against the cold rough stone of one of the many broken and barren houses that lay scattered across this white nightmare. The damp icy moisture starting to become evident around him, as the little heat his body was managing to give off slowly but surely liquefied the white ice. His body had long ago given up trying withstand the unbearable temperatures he had to endure, the rags that he were even though they fully covered him, were just two thin to trap in any warmth his body might give off. Not only the lack of sleep and the frigid cold, but another pain that had crippled him would be the hunger. It was true that death never came to one here by natural causes, but the pain they caused at there fullest would make even the happiest man want to give up.

The one thing that had gotten to him the most while he was here though was not the hunger, or the exhaustion, not even the cold. It was the loneliness... The entire time he had been there he had seen naught but one or two people, none of them around for very long. Josh didn't see the point of trying to survive, because he had no one or anything to survive for. To struggle, to go on for nothing... it felt like such a wast, and he pitied anyone who bothered doing it. No he was content with rotting in this patch of snow. He could not will his body past its limitations and he had absolutely no reason to. Maybe if he were lucky some random scavenger would come by and end his misery, but it seemed as if someone was working against was making sure that wasn't about to happen.

He shook his head a bit causing a few flakes of icy snow to fall from the unruly brown locks that adorned it, his bright blue eyes only half open. He was quite thin, one might even say unhealthily, and his skin was beginning to pale as white as the snow around him. One might even think he were sick, if it was possible, but no all that had happened was him suffering the long term effects of this unmerciful place. Why on earth someone had built this place had no idea, but one thing he did know was there was no way they could be of sane mind.

As the hours passed by in which he lay there nothing had come to him, until now. He could hear it, the crunch in the snow that could only be caused by the footsteps of a person. He grinned, the only people who lived in this section of the city would be the scavengers and cultist who usually just killed anyone they came across including each other. Maybe this was his lucky day.... or was it night he couldn't really tell at this point. The footsteps were getting closer and closer, and the more Josh listened the more he realized it was more than one person walking.

A few more minutes of quietly waiting up against the rubble, Josh saw a few figure appear up a head. Finally, maybe his torture would finally end, maybe these people would finally come and end his pain, but for now he waited as the shadowy figures, got closer and closer... and closer.

In the frozen hell known as the White City, Shadow strides the streets without fear, preoccupying herself with what she considers worthwhile diversions while passing her time here, and is now headed back to her secret lair. Not even Shadow remembers how long she's resided here, and though she looks like a mere young woman, who could tell in this place, especially when she so closely guards her face? But it has been long enough to earn herself a reputation as a formidable foe, and it is known that she is on no one's side but her own, and anyone who crosses her does so at his own peril.

As she makes her way down a lonely alley in a particularly unruly and dangerous section of the city, three shady characters advanced from the opposite end. She shows no sign of fright, not even faltering in her pace, but the others obviously intended to stop her, probably thinking of all the use they could make of the weather-beaten leather bag she has slung over one shoulder. Shadow doesn't appear to notice that they could be dangerous to her until two of them raise their crude weapons and charge her. In a flash, her swords are in her hands, and she rushes between them, slashing each of them in passing. As they collapse, dead or nearly so, she turns to where her last foe stands, blood dripping from her swords, waiting to see what move he would make. Glancing at his companions, he lowers his weapon and backs into the shadows.

The threat over, Shadow kneels beside her fallen foes and scavages the bodies for anything she can use. Amongst other things, she turns up a short, hooded cape, and a strip of cloth. Using the latter, she cleans her blades before replacing one to its sheath at her back, and the other to its place at her left hip, and tucks the cape into her satchel. Only now does she notice the youth leaning against one of the walls. Standing, she straightens her shift, which is mainly black and other dark colors, a patchwork of tattered, threadbare, or faded scraps of fabric. Despite the ragged appearance of her clothing, the icy atmosphere doesn't seem to bother her--perhaps because she is equally cold. Her mask conceals her features below her eyes, and her hood shadows those said-same orbs. She studies the youth momentarily, determines he is no threat, and then walks away.

__________________

Liam rounded the street corner, ducking his head into the unrelenting wind. The flaps of his long coat danced madly against his legs as he marches across the snow. Only the sound of fluttering fabric and crunching snow can be heard above the wind assaulting his unprotected ears. His reddish hair flipped wildly around, effectively dismantling whatever shape Liam had attempted to style it in.

Idly he cursed Cassie and her vigilance. The truth was she did the area a great service, but they enforced a generally permanent curfew. If they saw Liam out too often, they'd suspect he was up to something. She wouldn't be wrong, of course, oh not at all. He would even invite her in his scheme, once he was certain his secret was safe to share with others.

Liam stopped.

Footprints in the snow. The wind had already begun to bury them again, but the fact that they were still there meant they were still fresh. It wasn't Cassie and her crew, since there was only one set of them. Beginning to follow them, he gracefully reached inside his coat, grabbing for his pistol again, then shoved both hands inside his pockets. The bulge in his right pocket wasn't so subtle, but in the dark, he hoped most people wouldn't make out a difference.

The tracks led him into an ominous alleyway (one of many in White City. In fact he couldn't think of an alleyway he'd ever seen here that didn't look ominous). He paused at the entrance. Not out of fear, but because in the alleyway was a crumpled heap of a body.

"Are these your tracks, my sorry friend?" Liam asked the body, warily stepping closer. The snow around the corpse was stained black and pink. His coat had been tossed aside and turned inside out. Someone had already searched through the body. But... as long as it was there, he might as well help himself to anything his attacker had missed.

__________________
A golden bird that flies away, a candle's fickle flame,
To think I loved you yesterday, my love was just a game.
--
Heaven's not enough, if when I get there, I don't remember you.
I saw so many things, but like a dream, it lost me in a cloud.
There, most everything is nothing that it seems. Where you see the things you only want to see.
I'd fly away to a higher plane.
I resist to float away.
To sigh.
To breathe.
Forget.


Come and chat with us. RPGuild IRC Chatroom.

The cold, biting wind whipped at the back of his long black trench coat around his long legs as he strided along the long winding road; his boots crunching into the thick layer of snow the covered the ground. Thankfully the bandanna that covered his face kept the brutal wind from nipping at him. Why on earth they called it the white city was beyond him, however it could have been to lure people to this city thinking it was a place of haven. The freezing air tore at his lungs as he rounded the corner to suddenly find somebody, a guy from the looks of it; kneeling on the ground picking the pockets of somebody unfortunate enough to die in this hell of a place people called a city. From where he stood, he could see the ground stained with blood, pooling under the body. Thankfully the night and his thick mass of chocolate brown hair, gave him the cover he need, so he wouldn't notice the patch over his left eye. One of the few aspects of the city that he hated was the fact that most people can tell who was a hybrid and who wasn't. Most citizens of the city don't lose body parts often, especially when it was done on purpose.

When he had first arrived here 8 months ago, he had nothing but the jeans he was wearing now. He had woken up to find himself surrounded by tall Victorian houses covered in snow and his memory gone. His need to survive overwhelmed him and he made a deal with the Deifides: in exchange for his left eye he was granted the power over lightning. He greatly regretted that decision because now he is haunted by excruciating pain from where his left eye used to be. The only advantage now was that he had gained the ability to see sharper and greater distances with his right.

He reached for the hilt of his the blade, that was incased by a leather sheath on his left hip. This particular sword was made of bone, he did not know what type; however it was very strong and sharp. He had found it when he had once wondered deep into the city ; in a abandoned house. He did not trust anybody, save for one person, but he was not going to take chances. He focused his right eye on the man kneeling in the alley, taking whatever objects he could find. His dark green eye glowed in the never ending darkness, and James vision became clear. It was Liam.

__________________

Not many people in White City had managed to reach old age. Those that did usually stayed inside and as far away from society as possible (or as close to a society as existed in White City). While no one died from old age, it still came with the ordinary discomforts one begins to feel upon reaching venerability. Discomforts that made them easy prey for the younger and fitter criminals, ruffians, and cultists. But there were very few elderly men who went into the city. This is the story of one of them.

In Cassidy's Pub, a glass dropped.

"Aye, right... sorry, me damn hand's actin' up again," muttered Cassidy, as a jolt of pain surged through his tendons. The pain tended to do that: it came in short blasts until it died down again, as if he were a walking lightning rod. The man who had been on the receiving end of the glass smiled and shook his head, not seeming to mind much that he had a potentially deadly combination of liquor and glass at his feet.

"Don't worry about it, Cas," he said, as Cassidy went to fetch him another glass. The bartender fought through the pain best he could, because what else was there to do? Give up and surrender to a feeling? The glass, this time, managed to find its way to its intended destination. It was through sheer determination if nothing else. The other man gave him a warm nod of respect and walked off.

A veteran of two wars, a father of three, and a decent guy with a lot more life left in him - that's how people would have described Cassidy. Unfortunately, he had been diagnosed with a fatal heart condition about three years ago. He remembered the look that grabbed hold of his daughter's face and had practically torn his already weary heart to shreds. He remembered every single tear that had dripped from his wife's eyes, like fresh morning dew from the leaves of a bush. But he didn't remember anything else... well, except that terrible race to White City.

He'd go into White City, the place where no one died, and find a cure for his disease. Then he'd go and see his wife again; he'd go to see his children again. That was his plan, but the road to Hell is paved with the best intentions.

That was three years ago. In that short time, he'd renovated an old church and turned it into a bar. Cassidy's Pub, one of the only functioning places of enjoyment in this cursed city, was where the average commoner went when they wanted to flee the gang violence and the cultists. There were unwritten rules that made it a sort of neutral ground, a place of refuge. If those weren't enough, Cassidy had a shotgun (one of the few that existed in the city) hung from the wall behind him. As far as White City residents went, Cassidy had it pretty good.

He slouched over the bar and waited for the next customer. But a small part of him longed to get out and see the world. Part of him longed to get out.

__________________
~ "Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree."

~ "The best way to fight the devil, if not with holy scripture, is to jeer at him - for he can not stand to be scorned."

~ "An atheist is just a person God hasn't met yet."