JulienJaden Member
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- JulienJaden 9 yrs ago
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... How in the world did you even get here? Privacy means nothing to you, huh?
Well, since you're probably with the NSA anyway, I might as well tell you what you already know:
I'm a 25-year-old male university student from Germany. As a German, I take everything very seriously and have no humor. At all. Does not compute.
I'm not saying I'm a terminator but let's just say that there's a reason they picked an Austrian to play it - The German model wouldn't have failed. As an advanced roleplay machine, I do put a lot of effort into what I write and usually end up hating it later, but I do my best to keep it a high level of quality and quantity.
Of course, I'm joking. See? Germans have humor. Not when it comes to writing though - Roleplaying is no joking matter.
Well, since you're probably with the NSA anyway, I might as well tell you what you already know:
I'm a 25-year-old male university student from Germany. As a German, I take everything very seriously and have no humor. At all. Does not compute.
I'm not saying I'm a terminator but let's just say that there's a reason they picked an Austrian to play it - The German model wouldn't have failed. As an advanced roleplay machine, I do put a lot of effort into what I write and usually end up hating it later, but I do my best to keep it a high level of quality and quantity.
Of course, I'm joking. See? Germans have humor. Not when it comes to writing though - Roleplaying is no joking matter.
Most Recent Posts
She just pulled him along on her way, with a naturalness that spoke of intimacy. Gabriel barely even noticed the couples and drunks and one-night-stand partners he was tearing through, lacking Nadine's more "agile" build, despite some curses and the occasional threatening look (by whoever thought they were getting the better end of the deal and now feared for their prey), once or twice followed by a hoot once they realized some girl was urgently leading him somewhere private - if they were still coherent enough to be capable of such reasoning.
But, again, that barely occurred to him. He was preoccupied with how easy it felt to reconnect with Nadine. They had barely spent ten minutes together after almost an entire year of radio silence - a length of time that, at their age, could mean missing out on the experiences and thought processes that formed a person for the rest of their lives - and yet, here she was, so eager to show him something that it couldn't wait until they were sober, couldn't wait another day, couldn't even wait another five minutes. Before he really knew what was going on, she had slammed the bathroom door shut behind them and locked it to ward off any frisky contenders or people with more base needs. For a second or so, he forgot why they were here and half-expected her to start making out with him, but her words quickly pried his mind away from that crush-infused fantasy and back to the present.
"Anything we could use?"
The question blindsided him. He looked at himself in the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with an eery, ethereal look to it, pale and sweaty in the fluorescent light, and despite Nadine's conviction, this entire situation suddenly seemed ridiculous. Dr. Price was a nutjob and an idiot, the laughing stock of the campus, even among his colleagues; not that Gabriel gave any two shits about what the professors published or thought - beyond what was relevant to his studies or exams - but when the stuffy, self-righteous ivory tower inhabitants ridiculed one of their own, that didn't go unnoticed.
So, he probably didn't seem entirely serious or convinced when he joked:
"Well, gee, if I had known we were going to practice magic today, I would have brought a virgin. We'll never find one in time, at the rate things are going out there."
Still, he knew better than to question Nadine when she had that look to her, and even if this was just a joke, the least he could do after all this time was humoring her.
Gabriel reached into his pockets and emptied their contents on the counter, which amounted to...
But, again, that barely occurred to him. He was preoccupied with how easy it felt to reconnect with Nadine. They had barely spent ten minutes together after almost an entire year of radio silence - a length of time that, at their age, could mean missing out on the experiences and thought processes that formed a person for the rest of their lives - and yet, here she was, so eager to show him something that it couldn't wait until they were sober, couldn't wait another day, couldn't even wait another five minutes. Before he really knew what was going on, she had slammed the bathroom door shut behind them and locked it to ward off any frisky contenders or people with more base needs. For a second or so, he forgot why they were here and half-expected her to start making out with him, but her words quickly pried his mind away from that crush-infused fantasy and back to the present.
"Anything we could use?"
The question blindsided him. He looked at himself in the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with an eery, ethereal look to it, pale and sweaty in the fluorescent light, and despite Nadine's conviction, this entire situation suddenly seemed ridiculous. Dr. Price was a nutjob and an idiot, the laughing stock of the campus, even among his colleagues; not that Gabriel gave any two shits about what the professors published or thought - beyond what was relevant to his studies or exams - but when the stuffy, self-righteous ivory tower inhabitants ridiculed one of their own, that didn't go unnoticed.
So, he probably didn't seem entirely serious or convinced when he joked:
"Well, gee, if I had known we were going to practice magic today, I would have brought a virgin. We'll never find one in time, at the rate things are going out there."
Still, he knew better than to question Nadine when she had that look to her, and even if this was just a joke, the least he could do after all this time was humoring her.
Gabriel reached into his pockets and emptied their contents on the counter, which amounted to...
A wallet with fifteen dollars and change in it,
A driver's license (with a slightly more up-to-date picture),
A picture of himself and his younger sister,
A jackknife,
A cellphone,
And keys.
A driver's license (with a slightly more up-to-date picture),
A picture of himself and his younger sister,
A jackknife,
A cellphone,
And keys.
@Sep That's a difficult question. It depends a lot on how the rest of the escape is going to be. Generally speaking, I'd say no, but maybe the others feel differently about it?
@Sep Still here, just don't know what to do, so I'm waiting for us to leave these tunnels. Then Lyla can be of use.
In
Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]
→
9 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
@BluBlood To my own surprise, I had an hour or three to whip something up tonight. That may be the last time I get a post done this year, but at least you don't have to wait up for me, should inspiration strike you. ;)
Diana... Yes, he remembered Diana. She was a weird one: Enticing and so sexed up at times that Gabriel couldn't help but stare for a while when she 'claimed' Nadine in front of all the guys - which, according to Nadine, was nothing compared to how crazy it got when it came to their love life - but also tender and friendly when she wanted to... not to mention a gigantic bitch when she had a mood swing. Gabriel was no stranger to recreational drugs but he knew better than to mess with the kind that ruined your life; Diana had no such reservations, which explained a lot. He was never quite sure whether he disliked Diana because he had a crush on Nadine or because she seemed like the kind of person who would dig herself and the people around her an early grave if you let her.
Hearing that she was out of the picture was a relief, even if the break-up had led to many months of radio silence between her ex and him.
But just like her mention had woken dormant memories, his seemed to have done the same. Suddenly, there was this flicker in Nadine's eyes that he so loved. It could mean a great many things - some nights ended with him in some girl's bed, others in an abandoned house with a brilliant view or pulling a practical joke - but it always heralded a good time of some sort.
Cassie was an unknown variable, though. He had only vague memories of her as somebody who sat in their vicinity in Dr. Price's class and would occasionally talk to Nadine, a relationship that had apparently flourished in his absence.
His question had been more of a joke than anything else, an icebreaker after being gone for too long, an attempt to evoke shared memories and see if they were still friends or if something had changed. But hearing the words 'practical magic' clear as day over the techno beat and her claim that the class he recalled as boring and metaphysical bullshit held some merit made him wonder if she had gone off to the deep end.
Then again, wasn't that what he had thought the first time he had indulged her on one of her proposals of mischief? And Gabriel never regret that decision.
So he did what he had always done: He met her eyes with a broad smile and a look that said 'I'm game if you are'.
"Tip of the iceberg, huh? So, are you telling my I could summon an entire room full of beautiful, lusty, naked women for us to share if I knew the right magic spell? Or is that one up to science and cloning?"
Hearing that she was out of the picture was a relief, even if the break-up had led to many months of radio silence between her ex and him.
But just like her mention had woken dormant memories, his seemed to have done the same. Suddenly, there was this flicker in Nadine's eyes that he so loved. It could mean a great many things - some nights ended with him in some girl's bed, others in an abandoned house with a brilliant view or pulling a practical joke - but it always heralded a good time of some sort.
Cassie was an unknown variable, though. He had only vague memories of her as somebody who sat in their vicinity in Dr. Price's class and would occasionally talk to Nadine, a relationship that had apparently flourished in his absence.
His question had been more of a joke than anything else, an icebreaker after being gone for too long, an attempt to evoke shared memories and see if they were still friends or if something had changed. But hearing the words 'practical magic' clear as day over the techno beat and her claim that the class he recalled as boring and metaphysical bullshit held some merit made him wonder if she had gone off to the deep end.
Then again, wasn't that what he had thought the first time he had indulged her on one of her proposals of mischief? And Gabriel never regret that decision.
So he did what he had always done: He met her eyes with a broad smile and a look that said 'I'm game if you are'.
"Tip of the iceberg, huh? So, are you telling my I could summon an entire room full of beautiful, lusty, naked women for us to share if I knew the right magic spell? Or is that one up to science and cloning?"
In
Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]
→
9 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
"I hope my work was satisfactory."
Francis Cain sat in an old yet very comfortable red leather chair with more blemishes than him, his hands resting on the almost antique work desk before him. His hat and coat sat on a hat rack next to the entrance to his office, a door that read "Francis Cain - Private Investigator" in bold letters. Absolutely everything about his office looked like one had stumbled onto the set of a 50s noir movie, a circumstance that was quite intentional. It seemed out of place, a room inside the city removed from the 'modern day bullshit', as Cain liked to call it - it was one of the reasons why he dressed like he did. Plus, he liked this kind of style. It suited him. But the main reason was how practical it was: It was his signature feature and he was known for it all over town. People came to expect a suit, trenchcoat and trilby when they expected him. That made it very easy to escape their attention when he changed appearances. Sure, there were magical means to do so but more often than not, all he needed was a different look.
That said, he wouldn't have touched his opponent's wardrobe with a ten-foot pole. The young man was a Rat with a colorful Mohican haircut, more metal pinned to his face than most veterans had in their entire body and rags to cover himself in that showed brand signs here and there to prove that the holes in the jeans and hoody were intentional and 'stylish'. He could have just been nervous, judging by how twitchy he was, but an unfortunately placed tear on his sleeve revealed that the boy liked to shoot up. Even though Cain liked human criminals better than vampire ones, dealing with Rats always went hand in hand with seeing what their drugs did to young people.
This one was only a henchman but an excitable one.
"Hell yeah, it was! That fucker Bennert's not gonna mess with our business no more. Dino said that you can come by and have a taste of our product anytime."
Francis raised an eyebrow at this offer.
"Tell Dino that I am... humbled by this generous offer", his voice oozed of sarcasm but the boy smiled like an idiot and Cain was getting more and more convinced that he was as high as kite, "but I think I'll pass and stick to my usual payment."
Rick Bennert hadn't exactly been a drug kingpin. If anything, he had been the last in a long line of dealers who got uppity and bit the hand that fed them, thinking that they could open their own business with a few runners and brutes to work for them. He cut himself loose from the Rats without seeking protection from a different gang first, which, in Santa Somabra, was the same as painting a bullseye on your back. This was the kind of deal Cain took for the gangs: Taking care of the human, and non-human, refuse that nobody cared about. The gangs were happy and he got to rid the city of the occasional drug dealer, rapist and murderer, no questions asked.
"Right, right..."
The Rat stepped forward, took an envelope from his backpocket and offered it to Cain. Inside were a few small wads of cash which he counted diligently: $1700 in total. Cain furrowed his brows.
"That's 100 bucks less than we agreed upon."
"Well, Dino thought-"
Cain stood up.
"I know Dino and he doesn't pull stupid shit like that. Not with me."
The boy seemed even more nervous than before. Francis knew what was going on; even if he didn't have a few wards and charms in his office to help him sense dishonesty and evil intentions, he could have seen through the deception.
"Don't fuck with me, boy. There's a reason your bosses don't. Give me my money."
Even now, the Rat seemed uncertain, contemplating whether he should run out, fight or give in. Cain was ready to unleash hell on him, to set the junkie ablaze and burn him to ash where he stood, but he knew that that wouldn't be necessary. All he needed was a little push, a little show, another tidbit to add to his mystery and reputation: He let the cigarette in his ashtray flare up - that was all it took to turn his eyes into embers, glowing bright in the twilight of the room and giving him a demonic appearance.
Before he knew it, the guy had not only yelped out in surprise and fear but also presented the missing money to him. It was obvious he wanted to leave but he didn't dare to run. Cain gave him a wolvish grin.
"Good. Now get out of my office and pray that Dino never finds out what you tried to do here."
Within seconds, he was alone again but the silence wasn't meant to last - his cellphone started ringing before he could as much as sit back down again. He didn't recognize the number but that didn't have to mean anything.
"Yes?"
"Am I speaking Francis Cain?", a gravely, servile voice asked.
"Who wants to know?"
"I'm calling on behalf of Mistress Nyxvira Bloodbloom. I assume you are Francis Cain?"
And here I thought today was going to be boring. His past dealings with Bloodbloom had been interesting, a mix of very dangerous and quite questionable work, but the payment was always superb. God only knew how she heard about him and his skills. Yes, there were rumors and he spread some of those himself but only few knew what was true and what wasn't. Yet, the moment he met her, she seemed well informed about everything he was capable of. The problem with her was that she was prone to mood swings and fits of rage - combined with her influence throughout the city, that made saying no to her risky.
It went without saying that some of her workforce were not the brightest tools in the shed.
"Yes", he responded with a soft sigh, "that would be me."
"You are to meet her at her penthouse in Dawnpeek Heights. She expects you to be there by the time she arrives."
Of course she does, he thought to himself. The caller had hung up on him as soon as he delivered his message. That was the Bloodbloom Syndicate for you. Left with little choice but to hear her out, he hid the payment he had just received in the hidden safe, put on the rest of his outfit and a freshly lit cigarette into his mouth, placed the usual wards on the office as he left and made his way to the elevator, wondering what the queenpin had in store for him.
Francis Cain sat in an old yet very comfortable red leather chair with more blemishes than him, his hands resting on the almost antique work desk before him. His hat and coat sat on a hat rack next to the entrance to his office, a door that read "Francis Cain - Private Investigator" in bold letters. Absolutely everything about his office looked like one had stumbled onto the set of a 50s noir movie, a circumstance that was quite intentional. It seemed out of place, a room inside the city removed from the 'modern day bullshit', as Cain liked to call it - it was one of the reasons why he dressed like he did. Plus, he liked this kind of style. It suited him. But the main reason was how practical it was: It was his signature feature and he was known for it all over town. People came to expect a suit, trenchcoat and trilby when they expected him. That made it very easy to escape their attention when he changed appearances. Sure, there were magical means to do so but more often than not, all he needed was a different look.
That said, he wouldn't have touched his opponent's wardrobe with a ten-foot pole. The young man was a Rat with a colorful Mohican haircut, more metal pinned to his face than most veterans had in their entire body and rags to cover himself in that showed brand signs here and there to prove that the holes in the jeans and hoody were intentional and 'stylish'. He could have just been nervous, judging by how twitchy he was, but an unfortunately placed tear on his sleeve revealed that the boy liked to shoot up. Even though Cain liked human criminals better than vampire ones, dealing with Rats always went hand in hand with seeing what their drugs did to young people.
This one was only a henchman but an excitable one.
"Hell yeah, it was! That fucker Bennert's not gonna mess with our business no more. Dino said that you can come by and have a taste of our product anytime."
Francis raised an eyebrow at this offer.
"Tell Dino that I am... humbled by this generous offer", his voice oozed of sarcasm but the boy smiled like an idiot and Cain was getting more and more convinced that he was as high as kite, "but I think I'll pass and stick to my usual payment."
Rick Bennert hadn't exactly been a drug kingpin. If anything, he had been the last in a long line of dealers who got uppity and bit the hand that fed them, thinking that they could open their own business with a few runners and brutes to work for them. He cut himself loose from the Rats without seeking protection from a different gang first, which, in Santa Somabra, was the same as painting a bullseye on your back. This was the kind of deal Cain took for the gangs: Taking care of the human, and non-human, refuse that nobody cared about. The gangs were happy and he got to rid the city of the occasional drug dealer, rapist and murderer, no questions asked.
"Right, right..."
The Rat stepped forward, took an envelope from his backpocket and offered it to Cain. Inside were a few small wads of cash which he counted diligently: $1700 in total. Cain furrowed his brows.
"That's 100 bucks less than we agreed upon."
"Well, Dino thought-"
Cain stood up.
"I know Dino and he doesn't pull stupid shit like that. Not with me."
The boy seemed even more nervous than before. Francis knew what was going on; even if he didn't have a few wards and charms in his office to help him sense dishonesty and evil intentions, he could have seen through the deception.
"Don't fuck with me, boy. There's a reason your bosses don't. Give me my money."
Even now, the Rat seemed uncertain, contemplating whether he should run out, fight or give in. Cain was ready to unleash hell on him, to set the junkie ablaze and burn him to ash where he stood, but he knew that that wouldn't be necessary. All he needed was a little push, a little show, another tidbit to add to his mystery and reputation: He let the cigarette in his ashtray flare up - that was all it took to turn his eyes into embers, glowing bright in the twilight of the room and giving him a demonic appearance.
Before he knew it, the guy had not only yelped out in surprise and fear but also presented the missing money to him. It was obvious he wanted to leave but he didn't dare to run. Cain gave him a wolvish grin.
"Good. Now get out of my office and pray that Dino never finds out what you tried to do here."
Within seconds, he was alone again but the silence wasn't meant to last - his cellphone started ringing before he could as much as sit back down again. He didn't recognize the number but that didn't have to mean anything.
"Yes?"
"Am I speaking Francis Cain?", a gravely, servile voice asked.
"Who wants to know?"
"I'm calling on behalf of Mistress Nyxvira Bloodbloom. I assume you are Francis Cain?"
And here I thought today was going to be boring. His past dealings with Bloodbloom had been interesting, a mix of very dangerous and quite questionable work, but the payment was always superb. God only knew how she heard about him and his skills. Yes, there were rumors and he spread some of those himself but only few knew what was true and what wasn't. Yet, the moment he met her, she seemed well informed about everything he was capable of. The problem with her was that she was prone to mood swings and fits of rage - combined with her influence throughout the city, that made saying no to her risky.
It went without saying that some of her workforce were not the brightest tools in the shed.
"Yes", he responded with a soft sigh, "that would be me."
"You are to meet her at her penthouse in Dawnpeek Heights. She expects you to be there by the time she arrives."
Of course she does, he thought to himself. The caller had hung up on him as soon as he delivered his message. That was the Bloodbloom Syndicate for you. Left with little choice but to hear her out, he hid the payment he had just received in the hidden safe, put on the rest of his outfit and a freshly lit cigarette into his mouth, placed the usual wards on the office as he left and made his way to the elevator, wondering what the queenpin had in store for him.
Merry Christmas!
It's going to be a little longer until I can write something, maybe even until next year. So... sorry about that.
But I hope the IC posts keep you busy. :P
It's going to be a little longer until I can write something, maybe even until next year. So... sorry about that.
But I hope the IC posts keep you busy. :P
In
Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]
→
9 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Merry Christmas!
It's going to be a little longer until I can write something, maybe even until next year. So... sorry about that.
It's going to be a little longer until I can write something, maybe even until next year. So... sorry about that.
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