Blood Echoes

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Question, because I can see pros and cons to both aspects of it, how familiar (if at all) should the Scoobies be with Mr. Pierce?

Know he's the school librarian?

Know he's a Watcher?

Should he already be helping them out a little?

Should he already be guiding them in their self-proclaimed fight?

Want everyone's opinion, if you have one.

@Ruby

It would probably make most logical sense if he was just an unusually helpful librarian, always there to guide them in the right direction, but without telling them any more than they needed to know. Logic is only one consideration though, not necessarily the most important thing.

So I guess it depends on whether we'd be going for a quick start where everyone is on the same page and very little needs to be explained or set up, or spending some time in-character explaining it to the group and dealing with their reactions to it. I think I prefer the second scenario a little, but honestly I'm cool with whatever xD

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Danny

Name: Danny McEllis

Age: 17

Specialty: Telekinesis and hardcore Dark Souls runs

Appearance:

Click for pic

At 5”9 and weighing only 120lbs, he's clearly not built for punching baddies to death, or even for bravely sprinting to safety. Really, there's nothing about him that stands out to any degree, except maybe his thick dreadlocked hair and bright blue eyes. He tries to make up for it with a pseudo-edgy style, but he lacks the kind of dedication to anti-fashion that someone really needs to pull that kind of thing off properly. He favours dark colours and shirts bought from Redbubble that reference obscure fandom jokes along with hard-wearing boots that have seen better days.

Bio: The kid's got a bad reputation. Ask any of his classmates and they'll tell you, that 'stuff' just seems to happen around Danny McEllis. People get hurt. Things get broken. Yet, other than skulking at the back of class and having a few scathing comments to say now and then again, he doesn't seem to actually do anything bad to anyone. He's got no history of bullying, never been suspended, rarely even catches detention. So what gives?

Well, you got to go back a way for that. Second grade is a good start.

Before that, Danny was just a shy kid that rarely spoke up and spent a lot of time daydreaming in class, doodling in textbooks instead of taking notes. He'd had a rough start to his schooling, being the kid whose mom had run off when he was a baby and whose dad was kind of distant and inattentive at times. Poor too, can't underestimate the effect that can have on a developing personality. Having some siblings would have helped, but he was an only child; he had a few friends and they played D&D very badly together on weekends, so he was doing okay.

Then, Garry Robeson threw a soccer ball straight into his face. Ha-ha funny, pick on the shy kid with thrift-store clothes, whatever. Thing is though, the ball ended up slamming into Garry's face instead. Broke his nose, made him cry, just like you might expect with stupid kids. The others there swore blind that the ball reversed direction mid-air without anyone touching it. Like it was magic, or something.

And well, it kind of was.

Okay, might be good to go back a bit further, before mom left and when Danny was still sleeping in a crib. Things moved around a lot, especially when he was upset. It's hard to get a good night's sleep when every time the kid cries, doors start slamming all over the house and things fall off of shelves. Maybe that had something to do with his mom leaving. The only person who could say anything about that is his dad, and he wasn't talking.

Actually, he didn't talk about anything much. A nice guy, mostly, though rather distant and maybe not well equipped for raising a son on his own. Just about every piece of advice the man has ever given amounts to “Ignore it and it'll go away,” or “Stop being weird,” or “You'll never get a job with a haircut like that.” Thing is, Danny likes his hair, problems usually get worse if you ignore them, and he can't exactly stop being 'weird' any more than he can stop having four fingers and a thumb on each hand.

'Weird' is such a loaded term, really. Doesn't tell you anything much about what kind of 'weird' you're dealing with. It probably isn't best suited to describe someone who can do magic. Or maybe it's not magic, it's just the fundamental forces of the universe that most of humankind hasn't gotten a handle on. Whatever you might call it, the kid could do it. As long as it meant moving things around without physically touching them, anyway. A shame, because being able to throw fireballs would be pretty cool, wouldn't it?

But anyway, second grade was the first time he really slipped up and let it out. His dad always said that everyone would hate him if they knew how 'weird' he was, and it turned out that he was kind of right about that. After that – well, it didn't really matter what he did, or didn't do. Any accident that befell anyone would magically be Danny's fault, whether he was even in the room at the time. That time that Jade Sinclair fell down the stairs and broke her leg? Danny McEllis did it. When the quarterback ran face-first into the goalpost in practice and bust his nose? Danny McEllis did it. When the heating broke down in January and it was just really, really cold for a week? Danny McEllis did it. Just hum the theme to The Omen when you see him, it's funny.

Yeah, sure.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he lived somewhere else. The whole place was always a little 'off'. Seemed like the kids could see what the adults couldn't, that things there weren't always rational and couldn't be explained by “It was just a wild animal attack” or “muggers” or “a really big bird did it.” Maybe in a different place the kids wouldn't have been so quick to assume literal magic shenanigans were afoot. Or maybe kids are just mean, wherever they are. How would he know? He's never lived anywhere else.

He went a bit off the rails after that. Not a lot, just the usual edgelord stuff. You know – being kind of an asshole to others, unfriendly and hard to get to know: Building up a protective wall between himself and the world. After all, Leah Jones farted once in homeroom in first grade and had been known as Gasser ever since – once a reputation sticks, you're done for. Might as well wear the mantle. At least there's some merit to being able to push an aggressive wannabe-bully clear across the room, it's hard to see how Gasser Jones gets any benefit for her 'talent'.

Thank god for the internet. Online he's known as LightningSpear and he makes tutorials for no-death runs in the Dark Souls games. He's written fanfiction about Solaire of Astoria and posted often-referenced theories on the Drangleic royals. He's even got a Patreon. Funny how it's easy to have literally thousands of followers and pseudo-friends when no one knows anything about him... None of them would probably ever believe that the friendly, talkative and fiercely loyal fandom geek was such a weirdo at school.

Well, okay, there are some kids at school who aren't so bad. But like with everyone else, it's probably only a matter of time until they leave too.

Right now, he's just waiting for highschool to finally end so he can do something else with his life. Not that he knows that that 'something' is going to be. It's best not to think too hard about how he's much too poor to go to college, and nowhere near bright enough for a scholarship. Best not to think about how he'll probably end up with a passing grade about good enough for a life of low-paid manual labour and no health insurance like his dad. Or about how it's pretty likely that he'll never leave Washington.

Notes: Danny hasn't been spending time fighting the supernatural, he is the supernatural. Or a small piece of it, at least. A fairly harmless one, unless you happen to be a cup on an unreasonably high shelf that is desperate to remain on an unreasonably high shelf. He has no interest in occultism or the like, since it's something he's just always had; like how a person who can speak Swedish doesn't spend time learning how to speak Swedish. He's got no real combat skills, outside of a particular sphere of gaming where he's a borderline savant. Despite being moody and generally projecting a neon sign that reads GO AWAY, at heart he's a nerdy kid who just really wants to have friends, so he's not half as unapproachable as he pretends to be.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Awesome xD Okay okay, time for CR!

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

I PM'ed to check if the RP was full, and was told to go ahead and throw a prospective character's hat into the Hellmouth, see if he gets accepted xD So here goes nothin'.

Danny the Weirdo

Name: Danny McEllis

Age: 17

Specialty: Telekinesis and hardcore Dark Souls runs

Appearance:

Click for pic

At 5”9 and weighing only 120lbs, he's clearly not built for punching baddies to death, or even for bravely sprinting to safety. Really, there's nothing about him that stands out to any degree, except maybe his thick dreadlocked hair and bright blue eyes. He tries to make up for it with a pseudo-edgy style, but he lacks the kind of dedication to anti-fashion that someone really needs to pull that kind of thing off properly. He favours dark colours and shirts bought from Redbubble that reference obscure fandom jokes along with hard-wearing boots that have seen better days.

Bio: The kid's got a bad reputation. Ask any of his classmates and they'll tell you, that 'stuff' just seems to happen around Danny McEllis. People get hurt. Things get broken. Yet, other than skulking at the back of class and having a few scathing comments to say now and then again, he doesn't seem to actually do anything bad to anyone. He's got no history of bullying, never been suspended, rarely even catches detention. So what gives?

Well, you got to go back a way for that. Second grade is a good start.

Before that, Danny was just a shy kid that rarely spoke up and spent a lot of time daydreaming in class, doodling in textbooks instead of taking notes. He'd had a rough start to his schooling, being the kid whose mom had run off when he was a baby and whose dad was kind of distant and inattentive at times. Poor too, can't underestimate the effect that can have on a developing personality. Having some siblings would have helped, but he was an only child; he had a few friends and they played D&D very badly together on weekends, so he was doing okay.

Then, Garry Robeson threw a soccer ball straight into his face. Ha-ha funny, pick on the shy kid with thrift-store clothes, whatever. Thing is though, the ball ended up slamming into Garry's face instead. Broke his nose, made him cry, just like you might expect with stupid kids. The others there swore blind that the ball reversed direction mid-air without anyone touching it. Like it was magic, or something.

And well, it kind of was.

Okay, might be good to go back a bit further, before mom left and when Danny was still sleeping in a crib. Things moved around a lot, especially when he was upset. It's hard to get a good night's sleep when every time the kid cries, doors start slamming all over the house and things fall off of shelves. Maybe that had something to do with his mom leaving. The only person who could say anything about that is his dad, and he wasn't talking.

Actually, he didn't talk about anything much. A nice guy, mostly, though rather distant and maybe not well equipped for raising a son on his own. Just about every piece of advice the man has ever given amounts to “Ignore it and it'll go away,” or “Stop being weird,” or “You'll never get a job with a haircut like that.” Thing is, Danny likes his hair, problems usually get worse if you ignore them, and he can't exactly stop being 'weird' any more than he can stop having four fingers and a thumb on each hand.

'Weird' is such a loaded term, really. Doesn't tell you anything much about what kind of 'weird' you're dealing with. It probably isn't best suited to describe someone who can do magic. Or maybe it's not magic, it's just the fundamental forces of the universe that most of humankind hasn't gotten a handle on. Whatever you might call it, the kid could do it. As long as it meant moving things around without physically touching them, anyway. A shame, because being able to throw fireballs would be pretty cool, wouldn't it?

But anyway, second grade was the first time he really slipped up and let it out. His dad always said that everyone would hate him if they knew how 'weird' he was, and it turned out that he was kind of right about that. After that – well, it didn't really matter what he did, or didn't do. Any accident that befell anyone would magically be Danny's fault, whether he was even in the room at the time. That time that Jade Sinclair fell down the stairs and broke her leg? Danny McEllis did it. When the quarterback ran face-first into the goalpost in practice and bust his nose? Danny McEllis did it. When the heating broke down in January and it was just really, really cold for a week? Danny McEllis did it. Just hum the theme to The Omen when you see him, it's funny.

Yeah, sure.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he lived somewhere else. The whole place was always a little 'off'. Seemed like the kids could see what the adults couldn't, that things there weren't always rational and couldn't be explained by “It was just a wild animal attack” or “muggers” or “a really big bird did it.” Maybe in a different place the kids wouldn't have been so quick to assume literal magic shenanigans were afoot. Or maybe kids are just mean, wherever they are. How would he know? He's never lived anywhere else.

He went a bit off the rails after that. Not a lot, just the usual edgelord stuff. You know – being kind of an asshole to others, unfriendly and hard to get to know: Building up a protective wall between himself and the world. After all, Leah Jones farted once in homeroom in first grade and had been known as Gasser ever since – once a reputation sticks, you're done for. Might as well wear the mantle. At least there's some merit to being able to push an aggressive wannabe-bully clear across the room, it's hard to see how Gasser Jones gets any benefit for her 'talent'.

Thank god for the internet. Online he's known as LightningSpear and he makes tutorials for no-death runs in the Dark Souls games. He's written fanfiction about Solaire of Astoria and posted often-referenced theories on the Drangleic royals. He's even got a Patreon. Funny how it's easy to have literally thousands of followers and pseudo-friends when no one knows anything about him... None of them would probably ever believe that the friendly, talkative and fiercely loyal fandom geek was such a weirdo at school.

Well, okay, there are some kids at school who aren't so bad. But like with everyone else, it's probably only a matter of time until they leave too.

Right now, he's just waiting for highschool to finally end so he can do something else with his life. Not that he knows that that 'something' is going to be. It's best not to think too hard about how he's much too poor to go to college, and nowhere near bright enough for a scholarship. Best not to think about how he'll probably end up with a passing grade about good enough for a life of low-paid manual labour and no health insurance like his dad. Or about how it's pretty likely that he'll never leave Washington.

Notes: Danny hasn't been spending time fighting the supernatural, he is the supernatural. Or a small piece of it, at least. A fairly harmless one, unless you happen to be a cup on an unreasonably high shelf that is desperate to remain on an unreasonably high shelf. He has no interest in occultism or the like, since it's something he's just always had; like how a person who can speak Swedish doesn't spend time learning how to speak Swedish. He's got no real combat skills, outside of a particular sphere of gaming where he's a borderline savant. Despite being moody and generally projecting a neon sign that reads GO AWAY, at heart he's a nerdy kid who just really wants to have friends, so he's not half as unapproachable as he pretends to be.

The Simple Blood ( A Survival Horror Bloodborne Roleplay)

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the streets; it seemed to be close by, though Lucian was unable to tell exactly how close, or who had fired it. The quiet doctor had been safely tucked away in his little pocket of shadow for quite some time before Maximillian had stumbled along and ruined the whole thing. For almost an hour Lucian Dexter had stood silently and watched the patrols pace back and forth, back and forth, as if on some invisible timer ingrained into their increasingly addled minds. He'd had enough time to observe their appearance - bandaged faces hiding rotted eyes, too much dirty hair growing from the skin, some with left arms grown unnaturally long. The bodies that huddled against buildings and in the alleyways clutching at quicksilver bullets and vials that they would never use were - for the most part - the bodies of normal men and women, cut down as indiscriminately as the scourge-beasts. This was not the homecoming that the doctor had expected - the worst battle he had prepared to face was his aging mother's disapproval. It had seemed like staying hidden and waiting until morning was a marvellous plan, and one he was eager to pursue.

But all of that was out of the window now. Out of the window, sailing happily down the street never to be seen again. One must adapt in order to thrive, he supposed.

"Come along, then!" He scooped up the black leather doctor's case between his feet and strode purposefully (and rather quickly) to follow Maximillian, gesturing with a sweep of the arm for the bespectacled woman and nervous young man to follow. "Let's not keep the gentleman waiting."

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to try and determine how close the huntsmen might be and whether the two newcomers were set to follow, and then ducked quickly into the alleyway. The lantern put up little resistance against the darkness; its faltering light played across wet cobbles and the outstretched hand of a statue pinned between two tall narrow townhouses. "Have caution," he murmured, loud enough for nearby human ears to hear - but hopefully quiet enough that he wouldn't alert anything else. "if you see the shine of yellow eyes, stab first, and inquire later."

@bloonewb
@The Red Bear
@The Dow Dragon
@ROADWARRIOR

The Simple Blood ( A Survival Horror Bloodborne Roleplay)

The shadows that gathered in the darkness at the far rear of the upturned Hackney carriage that Maximillian had chosen as his hiding-spot seemed to shift, to stir, as if one of the bloated and monstrous carrion crows of Yharnam had made its home here and was about to heave itself bodily at the intruder. But no, it was merely the long coat of a dark-dressed man standing quietly with his back to the wall, as somber and eerie as an unmasked plague doctor.

"Hmm. You certainly did startle me." The words were barely more than a murmur, almost submerged beneath the cacophony of distant beasts and beast-hunters; but he didn't seem startled, not in the slightest. Indeed, his stillness and the calmness of his voice and half-shadowed face seemed positively unnatural, considering the chaos erupting around them. The scent of burning flesh and wood filled the air, thin eye-stinging acrid smoke hanging listlessly as if even the wind were afraid to move freely along the city's streets.

The man's eyes rested briefly on the flustered and fearful Maximillian before shifting once again to the moving figures slowly approaching their hiding spot and up the street towards a solitary figure wielding a poleaxe. "Be very still." Was he advising Maximillian, or speaking to himself? Perhaps it didn't matter, for the whispered words were equally as good advice regardless. "They will pass."

It seemed for a moment that he was quite set to follow his own advice and remain as still as a sparrow beneath the hawk's shadow until a sudden clanging sound echoed down the grimy cobbled street; jarring, sure to attract attention. And then, a voice called out - uncertain and nervous, not at all like the inchoate ramblings of the huntsmen.

The dark-dressed man froze still as he struggled to make out the source of this sound, eyes darting towards the trio of beast-hunters to see if they too had heard it; and the fingers of his left hand buried in his coat pocket tightened around something hidden there.

The Simple Blood ( A Survival Horror Bloodborne Roleplay)

Awesome, can't wait to start xD

The Simple Blood ( A Survival Horror Bloodborne Roleplay)

Name: Dr. Lucian Dexter

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Appearance:

Hider

An average 5"10 with an average build, Dexter has the look of an academic who spends entirely too much too time indoors reading books. This is an accurate statement, though the darkness around his eyes and unnerving lack of visible emotion might lead you to wonder exactly what manner of texts those might be. His near-black hair is a little long, perhaps, but neatly cut and kept; his green eyes reflect the clinical detachment of a particularly well-read snake. That is not to say that he appears off-putting at first glance, for his looks are clean-shaven and immaculate, his clothes well-tailored and elegant, and his conversational skills well-honed and observant; more that his manner and bearing give the impression of a man who has seen much in his years, and in response has learned to ruthlessly seperate his emotions from his intellect.

Bio: The youngest of three sons born to a sculptor and a midwife, his family was well-regarded and lived in a small but well-appointed home that overlooked the square at central Yharnam. A quiet child, he rarely spoke and seldom indulged in childish play, preferring instead to read both books and the behaviours of those around him. This particular combination of past-times gave him a rather different view of the world than that shared by his family, peers, and other townsfolk. After all, many of them seemed to have little concept of the world that existed outside the immediate bounds of the city, and to think nothing of the... 'Peculiarities' of its inhabitants. For what finer place could exist than the very home of blood ministration, seat of the Healing Church? It drew people from far and wide to be cured of their maladies, and Yharnam prospered all the better from it.

Dexter, however, was unsettled by the growing reliance on the Church and rising swell of zealotry that seemed only to accelerate as he grew towards adulthood. It felt, to him, rather 'improper' in a way that few others seemed to appreciate. The children his mother helped deliver were healthy and fair, but increasingly strange. The works his father produced began, over time, to change; from cowled and godly martyrs, to forms that, although resembling that of humans, were strangely-proportioned and subtly twisted into unnatural parodies of pained supplication.

And so, he decided to escape in a manner befitting a young gentleman - by going to university. No, not to Byrgenwerth, despite his parents insistance, but further North, where the mountain air was cool and clean and blood was only blood. It was an excellent escape, all told; and when his academic course finished he took another, and when that finished, he used his new doctorate to take tenure and teach others. He lost himself in the cold formality of modern medicine and workings of the human mind, and found that his strange past in a strange place was an unexpectedly valuable resource of practical experience in his chosen fields. Most did not have what it took to look inside the mind of another; quite literally, for dissection and study were the cornerstones of the fresh new field of neurology.

He still sent letters back home, like any good son would, and quietly pitied the postal clerks who had to deliver such missives; and for a time, received letters back from his father. He became rather artful at constructing reasons to delay his return indefinitely. Eventually the correspondance seemed to dry up; a relief, all told, for the content of these letters had become increasingly erratic, and fraught with mania and bad news. Ramblings of beasts and blood, fire and sickness, and no way to be sure where fact began and fiction ended, or whether either existed in the first place.

When his father died a day after he turned 30, it was Dexter's lawyers who carried the news to him - and that was the last he heard from any of them. No word ever came from his mother or brothers; perhaps, they blamed him for not rallying to the old man's deathbed. Perhaps, he thought, they were right to blame him. And, with that, he was free of Yharnam's shadow forever.

... Or so he thought, until his father wrote to him once again. Perhaps 'wrote' is the wrong term, for a page of indecipherable glyph-like scrawling marked with blood and filth could hardly be construed as meaningful discourse, but - that was undoubtedly the old man's signature. Of course, he was dead, so that meant only that someone back at that blasted city was set to play cruel tricks on him, to prey on his mind and cause him to question himself. And that absolutely. Would. Not. Do. It was, he decided, time to be done with that place, and all who festered within it.

And so, fifteen years after taking his leave of Yharnam's particular brand of ill-favoured madness, he set off to return to those cobbled streets and gaslit alleys to the place where he was born, determined to finally sever all ties; and by gods, would he give someone quite a stern talking-to when he got there!

Personality: He is calm and calculated and rigidly 'sane' to the point where it might just be the mark of his own brand of madness. He rarely laughs, and has not shed a tear since he was too young to form sentences. That is not to say that he lacks emotion, or compassion, or basic humanity - only that it would take a particularly stressful turn of events to bring any of it to the surface.

Occupation: Lecturer in the fields of neurology and psychology.

Family:

Father - Morton (deceased)
Mother - Lucianne (59)
Brother - Morton (known as 'Morty') (38), married to Sarah (37), father to Lucy (14)
Brother - Daniel (36)

Equipment: Carries a black doctor's bag that contains some useless textbooks, a sandwich, and a small bonesaw that is most commonly used to carve chicken (though he won't admit it if you ask him, and will insist it is an important tool that should be treated with care).

Other: Detests his given name, as he was named after his mother which seems rather unfitting for a man. Despite being an eligible bachelor with pleasant looks and a comfortable salary, he has no romantic ties. Nor does he have any close friends, preferring to keep things at 'acquaintence' level or lower. He is left-handed, physically fit, and lacks any fighting skill at all. He does, however, have a keen eye for anatomy and a good deal of expertise in dissection and surgery.

The Simple Blood ( A Survival Horror Bloodborne Roleplay)

@MikkishtheLeprechaun Depends whether she's "I cannot risk allowing infected patients into my clinic" Iosefka, or the "writhing in my brain" Iosefka xD That side-story is so creepy and mysterious. I scoured that clinic top to bottom looking for lore clues :/

The Simple Blood ( A Survival Horror Bloodborne Roleplay)

Holy crap! I kept getting a Cloudflare error when trying to submit, seems like some of them got through anyway and - well, this is just embarrassing. Thank god for the edit function. @The Dow Dragon if you can remove everything after the initial app, that'd be awesome!