TolkienBlackGuy

Around A Dark Corner

Name: Wolf Montgomery

History: LIBRA Captain Wolf Montgomery is Ellen Lockhart's boss at the Thirteenth Precinct's Homicide Division. He carries a .38 Detective Special and a two-barreled Derringer pistol as a holdout weapon held his right sleeve. Wolf is a werewolf. Born and raised in the culture he has a strong sense of loyalty and honesty not just to his pack but also his employees at the Precinct. He appreciates Lockhart's determination and diligence but maintains a close eye on her in order to make sure any investigation goes over as smoothly as possible. She reminds him of himself when he was younger which is why he assigned Damocles to her. He's amused by how much Damocles annoys her but also appreciates how effective to two of them are at working together. Despite being the "father" of the police force he keeps his past to himself...One thing they DO know about him is that he used to play football.

Appearance: Wolf is a large, well-built man. He used to be a linebacker in high school and a boxer in college and kept his frame with working out. He likes to wear blue suits and red ties. He has a bright smile and a rich laughter that fills the room.

Personality: Intelligent, well-respected and a "gentle giant" Wolf is loved by all who work with him. He has a quick sense of humour and a fatherly air about him that draws people to him, especially the hurting.

Around A Dark Corner

Name: James Damocles

Personality: James is an ENFP

Extroverted Intuition: James is very skilled at coming up with ideas that are considered “out of the norm” to others. He approaches social standards differently than most people often having a lack of care for them. Because of this James is able to see endless possibilities for all (who, where, and what is going on around him, not so much “why”). He is very expressive and often exuberant. He likes to be surrounded by people--whether online or face to face--because it’s something that motivates and inspires him.

Introverted Feeling: James has a strong set of moral values. He sticks with his convictions and will never stop fighting for them. While he thrives on helping others he likes to stay true to himself. He’s not open-minded to anything that goes against his moral code but will try everything in his power to persuade others into seeing his values. He works hard for his reputation as the “hacker hero” Orwell rather than what other people have placed on him. It’s his passion that drives him rather than his emotions.

Extroverted Thinking: Despite having a higher than average intelligence when he forms a plan his emotions may often get in the way and over take them. He’s prone to thinking out loud and often gets strange looks for “talking to himself”.

Introverted Sensing: James is suspicious of things he has never encountered or heard of--especially magic. Despite all of his knowledge on the subject there are still things that he just doesn’t understand...
Appearance: James is a 6’1 African-American man. He’s not one for spending money on clothes--he has exactly one suit in his wardrobe. He’d much rahter wear fandom t-shirts, hoodies and his infamous grey peacout. He sports a “frohawk” and both of his ears are pierced. Upon closer inspection the earrings are inscripted with sigils that protect him against the most basic spells (scrying, mind-reading, and simple elemental spells). Both of his arms are tattooed. The most noticeable tattoo is a “summoning circle” which he uses to bring forth “The Sword of Damocles”, the weapon that he is bound to.

History: James doesn’t have a family that he can rememer. He has bounced from foster home, to foster home, each family dropping him off after an inadvertent display of his magical abilities. When he turned 18 he joined the military and saw something that he shouldn’t have seen. A vampire in the warzone. Acting on instinct he blasted the monster away with magic and--by recommendation of his superiors--joined the DARK squad--a group of men and women tasked with taking out military threats. After his stint in the military he came back home, and got a job as a bartender for a while. He worked the nightshift and gathered a collection of valuable resources and connections. His phone in particular is connected to what is called “The Underworld”, a network of demons, monsters, vengeful gods and other not-so-savoury characters in the dark. He eventually became a police officer, worked his way up to detective and keeps the world safe from the things that go bump in the night.

Around A Dark Corner

That's the thing, right? Your own death, that is not bad enough on its own. There's the whole question of the forensics afterwards, what people will make of it. It's weird to think that they'll stare at the scene of your death, look at the objects scattered around you, and get it all wrong, and get you wrong.

"Damocles?"
This is what Detective James Damocles loved about This American Life! It seemed like every episode he listened to was pulled directly from his own life! Damocles leaned back in the theatre seat in the darkness as a documentary on Jupiter played on the giant screen.
"Damocles."
But he wasn't paying attention to that. He as listening to Ths American Life on the iPod he'd pulled from the dead body.
Goofing around with evidence was the fun part of being a sparkly, flashy detective solving ookie spooky mysteries. No one told you what to do.
"Damocles, goddamit!"
James fun was ruined by the abrupt snatching of the earbuds out of his ears.
Molly Turner was standing over him. A woman of small frame and hair as fiery as her personality. Molly was a firecracker. Caramel eyes. Small nose and pale skin. She kinda reminded Damocles of a glass of milk. A really small glass of milk. Like a swallow of milk. But still just enough to dole out revenge if you were lactose intolerant. That just adds a whole new meaning to the word "mustard gas". Damocles would never drink milk again.
"Hey!" Damocles crossed his arms in feigned defeat but remained seated. "I was--"
"I don't care what you were doing!" she said. With blue gloved hands, she stuffed the iPod and earbuds into a plastic bag marked "Evidence". "Stop playing with evidence, you asshat!"
James smiled. He'd always had a bright smile even as a child. James didn't exactly look like a detective. He sported a frohawk, had hazel eyes and wore a "Thundercats" hoodie underneath a grey peacoat, and red Chuck Taylors. He stood up from his seat and placed his hands on Molly's shoulders.
"Are you okay, Molly?" he asked. "Do you need a hug?"
"No" was her curt reply.
"Are you sure?" he tilted his head to the side.
"Damocles, I swear to God--"
"I think you need a hug!" He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms tightly around her. For a few painstakingly awkward moments, Damocles held Molly's head to his chest.
"See? Doesn't that make everything better?" he asked.
"Damocles?" she replied. Her voice was slightly muffled by his hoodie.
"Yeah?"
"You know I hate you, right?"
Damocles broke the hug off an smiled. "I know you mean love!"
Molly rolled her eyes. In spite of herself, there was a small part of her that found Damocles to be...amusing to say the least. He was like a kid in the candy store for the most part, but he was a damn good detective. "Do you have like any spatial awareness? Any at all?"
Without even looking around Damocles grinned, "It's the planetarium! Duh!"
"Yeah! And you're three damn exhibits away from the crime scene!"
Damocles nodded his head. He failed to see what her point was. Walking around helped him focus. It helped him think clearly.
Harlan Morgan was his name, poor bastard. Built like a doughnut hole and probably should have stopped eating them a long time ago. If turning to stone hadn't got him, the diabetes would have. Anyways. Harlan Morgan. Mid-thirties. Probably perpetually single. Still lives at home with his mom or has a cat or something. The security guard at the Field Museum of Natural History. Nothing too special about him. So why was he killed? Collateral damage. A simple psychometry spell showed Damocles that. The man in black glowing blue was the weird part. If you adjust the pitch and treble in a psychometry spell, you can hear any and everything. Even people's true voices masked by magic. But this blue glowing guy? Who the hell was he? Easy. Motorcycle gang. "Long ride the Witch Knights." Weird thing was the Witch Knights were a biker gang of spellcasters. They didn't get involved in the wizard gang war and usually kept to themselves. So why here? Why now? And what did this Medusa's head--

"Damocles!"
James snapped out of his thoughts.
"Were you even listening to me?" Molly was turning a little bit red.
"Wait, what?"
Molly threw her hands in the air, "Why do I even bother!" she stormed off and made her way toward the exit.
Molly was cool. Damocles liked Molly.
"And by the way?" Molly looked over her shoulder back at the detective. "Your new partner is here."
James' face lit up. "She is!" Ellen Lockhart. Damocles had heard some good things about her from his boss Captain Wolf Montgomery. She started out behind the desk and now she's out in the field. Didn't even become a beat cop. Straight from desk to detective. If Montgomery trusted her, then so did Damocles.
James Damocles followed Molly out of the planetarium, excited to meet his new partner.

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James jogged into the Greek mythology exhibit. He loved Greek mythology! Not because of the myths behind the gods, but because the Greek Pantheon was a group of travelling comic musicians! He'd been following them since they performed in rinky-dink performance halls back in New York. They going to be performing at the Voodoo Comedy House on Saturday. Maybe he'd invite Ellen!
Ellen was examining the petrified security guard. The other officers and analysts kept their distance. The all seemed...afraid of her. Stone-faced. Dressed in all black. Service arm visible. And HUGE!
James decided that he like her already. He grinned
"Ellen!" he shouted halfway across the exhibit. Without hesitation he ran over to Ellen and threw his arms around her in a big hug. As soon as he did he was washed over in an almost overwhelming feeling. Magic. The magic inside of her was powerful. Was this why Montgomery paired the two together?
"Damn skippy!" James let go of Ellen and smiled. "Where are my manners! Introductions! Call me Damocles. It rhymes with "3-Ds", "bee's knees", bleu cheese" and," he placed his fists on either side of his head, fingers pointing upwards. "I am the night. I am BATMAN-ese!"
He placed an arm on Ellen's shoulder and pointed at the petrified body. The face twisted in perpetual horror. "What do you think about that?"

Around A Dark Corner

It is absolutely necessary, for the peace and safety of mankind, that some of earth's dark, dead corners and unplumbed depths be left alone; lest sleeping abnormalities wake to resurgent life, and blasphemously surviving nightmares squirm and splash out of their black lairs to newer and wider conquests. -- H.P. Lovecraft

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Night fell across Chicago like a blanket, covering the city in cool darkness, accented by the glittering lights of a sleeping city. The sky was clear and cradled a pregnant moon surrounded by a host of stars, otherworldly watches that surveyed the city below in contempt, unmoved by the events that would change the world and pluck them asunder from their celestial resting place.
A foreboding quiet swept through the darkened marble hallways of the Field Museum of Natural History. Security Officer Harlan Morgan liked it that way. There was nothing but him, the displays and silence. It gave him the opportunity to catch up on episodes of This American Life. The portly, moustached security guard jiggled merrily down the hallways of the museum, a single earbud plugged firmly in his left ear. His black wingtips squeaked noisily as he paced. A smile spread across his face as the voice of Ira Glass filled his head. He loved this job. More than he loved food. More than he loved his mother. And more than he loved his cat Mr Bittowitz.
There was nothing like--
Harlan stopped for a moment.
What was that noise?, he thought to himself. He snatched the earbud out of his ear and listened. There it was again. A crackle, followed by a woosh and the distinct sound of sneakers against marble.
"Wh-who is that?" he stammered. Harlan shook his head. You can't be scared now, dude! This is your chance to be badass! What would Bruce Willis do?
He reached for his flashlight and snapped it on.
Crackle.Woosh.Squeak.
"Hey!" he shouted again. "Who's there!"
He flashed his light back and forth and frantically jiggled up and down the hallways as quickly as his girth would allow him. He'd never had to confront someone like his before. Sure, he's chased away kids grabbing the boobs of the Athena bust in the Greek mythology exhibit--a popular one for middle school boys for obvious reasons. But this? This was something new. Maybe he'd get a promotion from it!
Crackle.Woosh.Squeak.
The Greek mythology exhibit. That's where they were coming from. What a coincidence.
Harlan made his way towards that direction. His heart raced in his chest. Sweat dotted his forehead.
"I gotta lose some weight," he wheezed as he skidded towards the entrance of the exhibit.
Great Corinthian columns wrapped in silk guarded the entrance to the exhibit.
"All right, you son of a bitch," Harlan growled in his best Bruce Willis. Albeit a huffing, puffing and severely out of shape Bruce Willis. "You better come out with your hands up or," he thought for a moment for the most intimidating thing to say. "Or I'll make scrambled eggs with your head all over the walls."
There you go, Harlan. Put the fear of God in them. And in this museum, YOU are God.
Now, Harlan didn't have a gun. He wasn't allowed to happen after what he did in Springfield. But the intruder didn't know that. He still thought he sounded like a badass.
Darkness extended throughout the exhibit, but Harlan had patrolled these halls for so long now he knew where the displays were located. Depictions of ancient battles, artistry, pottery, weapons and Greek heroes lined the walls and dotted the exhibition room. A great stone depiction of the pantheon of gods, headed by Zeus himself loomed high and mighty over the rest of the displays in all of its splendour.
Harlan crept around the exhibit, one foot over the other as his flashlight danced across the exhibit. Someone was here. He could feel it. His Bruce Willi senses were tingling. He combed over the walls and the room and he saw nothing. Empty. Was he hearing things?
He patrolled the room one more time, keeping his flashlight moving. It landed on someone facing the Medusa display. The figure had his back to Harlan and acted and didn't acknowledge the guard's presence. Dressed in all black--black jeans, boots, a black leather jacket emblazoned with a symbol he'd never seen before, pierced by a broadsword and a hood pulled over its head. The figure was glowing. Iridescent blue light bristled around its body.
"What the--"
The figure turned it's head ever so slightly. It flickered then disappeared. Before he could speak again something slammed into Harlan and sent him flying up through the air. The guard screamed as he sailed upwards for a brief moment then landed on the ground with a sickening crunch.
Harlan groaned softly as he tried to get back up. A bolt of pain shot down his leg and he howled. Harlan looked down at his leg. He screamed again in pain and horror. Bloody white bone tore through the fabric of his slacks. Through watery eyes, he turned his gaze towards the display again. The figure was standing there again, casting an eerie sapphire light around the surrounding displays.
"I don't think rent-a-cops can take another hit like that," the figure spoke, its voice warbled.
Harlan tried to speak, but the pain in his leg was unbearable.
"Try not to--ahh, there you go. Come to papa," the figure's voice was tinged with triumph. He turned around, holding the head of the Medusa bust in its hands. The figure flickered again and popped into existence in front of Harlan. The figure kneeled and put its finger to Harlan's lips, shushing him gently. "There, there. Don't worry. It'll all be over soon enough. Long ride the Witch Knights." The figure held the Medusa bust directly in front of Harlan's face.
The hair on Harlan's arms erected. A sound like a breeze in a tunnel rushed through his ears. The air around him crackled and his body buzzed with the feeling of pinpricks--as if he'd fallen asleep on a limp, woken up and blood began circulating through that limb. His ears popped. The figure spoke one last time.
Harlan didn't know what the figure said. He didn't even recognise the language but it was a single word.
The bust...twitched. Cracks spiderwebbed across the expensive art piece as the bust twitched again. The coils of serpents that clustered the bust's cranium shuddered. They twisted and hissed in agitation. Flakes fell from the bust and dusted across the floor as the eyes snapped open--twin yellow lights that poured outpoured rage and hatred. The bust screamed. Harlan screamed. The figure began to sob.

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"Now remember," Captain Wolf Montgomery said as he turned the ignition to the squad car off.
"Detective Damocles can get a little bit..." he trailed off, looking for the right words. "Weird."
Captain Wolf Montgomery was a mountain of a man. African-American. Massive arms, broad shoulders, and hands like a side of meat and potatoes. He wore a blue suit and red tie, his badge gleaming brightly against his belt. To the normal eyes, it looked like a normal, Chicago Police Department issue badge. But to special eyes, it was a LIBRA Thirteenth Precinct badge. LIBRA was a secret organisation of men and women that policed the world of magic, monsters and mayhem. Whatever went bump in the night, they bumped back, and always with a bigger gun.
The Captain looked over at his passenger, then beyond her. Several squad cars surrounded the Field Museum of Natural History, the entrance sectioned off by police tape. The press and curious bystanders alike swarmed around the tape, their voices a cacophony of questions and inquiries. Thank goodness for alchemic tape--a fancy little trick that the Thirteenth Precinct had up its sleeves. Normal people would see regular, yellow police tape. Only special people could see the spells inscribed on the tape that prevented prying eyes.
"But, I think working with him would be good for you."
The captain smiled at his passenger, "So go in there and show them how it's done. And Ellen? Play nice with the other kids, okay?"

An Error in Morality (A Cyberpunk Story)

And a few of the folks who've been busted have dropped his name. He's not infamous but his name is on the tongues of the police force. They've been keeping their eye on him and his work and finally have a chance to bring him in for questioning.

An Error in Morality (A Cyberpunk Story)

Absolutely! I'm thinking about starting off with the deal itself. How do you feel about playing a cop that's been keeping an eye on D'Angello? That's how I see the deal going south. D'Angello shows up, the deal is about to go down, cops show up, a firefight ensues, idol is broken in the midst of it and then the ball really gets rolling!

An Error in Morality (A Cyberpunk Story)

I like that! What do you this: I plug the USB into a terminal and it's just FULL of a list of different people. Some of them have the "Alive" or "Active" next to their information and some of them have "Deceased" to their information. That leads me to you because the people on that list that are still alive are only alive because of you. And that leaves us wondering "Who the hell is killing all of these people and WHY?" Obviously, they aren't good people but these murders and attacks are coordinated with razor-like precision.

Maybe these people getting shot and killed are also connected to each other outside of you. Gang war maybe?

Around a Dark Corner

Wonderful! I'll send you my Discord info!

An Error in Morality (A Cyberpunk Story)

Ah, sweet! What sort of character would you want to play and how would our path's cross? What I'm thinking is after it's been discovered that the statue hides a USB we work together to stop whatever nasty, nasty things are on that USB. I'm leaning a bit more towards us getting tangled up with whoever put whatever information is on that USB. What do you think?

By the way, love your profile pic! I'm waiting with bated breath for the next season of Rick and Morty!

An Error in Morality (A Cyberpunk Story)

The intrinsic value of people’s enthusiasm is unshackled by the context of a real or fictional environment. So long as the world accords recognition for applied fulfillment of this enthusiasm it stands that people would not lose touch with their own reality. Reality, being the foundation of an individual's conventional wisdom, is a degree of experience that belongs to that single person. Hence, any such individual reality can be perceived by others as nothing more than mere imagination -- Mamoru Oshii

I have a kernel of a story focusing on my character D’Angello a black helmeted delivery boy who deals in “Unforgivables”--items bought, sold and traded on the DarkNet. This story starts off with a simple delivery--a small, golden Hivatai idol that hides a USB which contains sensitive information that could change the course of the world--that goes south, real quick.

What that information is, I still don’t know! That’ll be something that we’ll have to work on that together!

A lot of inspiration for this comes from Ghost in the Shell, Batman: Beyond, Altered Carbon, The Matrix, Neuromancer, and Battle Angel: Alita Things like splicing, AI and augmented reality are all common and things I’d like to include in the story.

I’d like to go for a “gritty” feel for this story. A grim, dirty undertone to a bright and shiny future. Drugs, murder, prostitution, human trafficking, prejudice and so on are all things I’d like to include in the story as well, so this will be an 18+ roleplay. No explicit sexual content, please. Mention of sexual interactions are fine.

I look forward to building a cyberpunk world with you!

P.S. Applicants must be willing to write at minimum three paragraphs, and participate in worldbuilding.
P.P.S I've created a small, ever growing Spotify playlist that acts as inspiration for this roleplay!
P.P.P.S By 18+, I'm referring to touching on dark themes and content. For this story that would include, drugs, murder, and "grey" morality.