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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Just looking for a Pint (ENDED) | |
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| Topic Started: Monday, 14. October 2013, 17:37 (1,497 Views) | |
| Toran | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 17:21 Post #41 |
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The Formerly Hated
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The towering man lifts his thick arms and laces his fingers behind his head, staring at the red horizon. He nods slightly. "Yup. It's why they gave me the prison deal in return for my testimony. Which, they recorded in front of impartial witnesses who would be able to testify that I was not coerced. I even got recorded being cross examined by all the logical questions, in front of a supreme justice. Because they figured I wouldn't be around if the the trial took too long. Since I'd never hurt anyone on the outside and all my frights were proven self-defense, they sealed my record and let me go." His deep voice was soft, almost mournfully haunting. A faint hint of Scotland from the few months he'd spent there on his voice. As if he were retreating to happy memories. "Yeah, bone cancer. Spread all through my system I guess. They figure I've got maybe a year or two. Radical treatments, chemo, shit like that could get me as much as a decade. Chances of it going into remission are in the single digits. The chemo would destroy my body. I'd lose something like half my muscle mass. My digestive system would break down. Respiratory problems would have a solid chance of killing me off my first cold or flue. Lose my hair. All that fun shit." He turned his frosty blue eyes on her and shrugged his thick arms and heaved a sigh. Starting to walk again towards his place. "That's why I came to the UK. Dad always talked about visiting Grandpa's old place while he was in the Navy. How beautiful Scotland was, the moors, the highlands. So I came, visited the castles and stuff. Then I came down here to do some business. Figured I'd stock up a good sized nest egg to figure out what to do. Whether to get the treatments or not." |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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| Mac | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 17:38 Post #42 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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Her first reaction was to hit him, hit him hard with the bottle of Vodka he'd so rashly returned to the bar to retrieve in penalty for the first. She didn't like it. She wasn't good with shit like this, and her first reaction to anything occuring on a level she wasn't comfortable with was to hit it. He had a fucking choice, and one she couldn't even fathom. She'd been fucked into this life, and sure as shit she was staying in it... If someone had given her a choice half her life ago, if she'd want this or not? Jesus, she couldn't even take a guess at what she would have chosen. If she had known she'd be made to... do the things she's done. She'd probably tell them to stuff it. She'd choose to die. There was so much mother fucking blood on her soul, she was going to hell in a hand basket. Most of the time she didn't let it get to her, everything she did she'd had to done to survive... but if she could turn the clock around and choose not to do those things? Sure as fuck those children would still be alive, sure as shit she wouldn't be remembering a fucking little 6 year old girl crying over her Mama, while Marco asked her to bring the sniveling welp back to the pack house. She tried to drown that thought in the Vodka in her hands, tipping it back and guzzling hard. Chase it away. She couldn't tell him to die though, couldn't tell him not to want to keep on fucking trucking... but she couldn't tell him about the things she'd done to other people, the cost beyond just the things you'd do to yourself for your Domitor. He was a fucking good person, and he'd never talk to her again if he knew the shit she'd pulled for the 'love' of Marco. It made her sick to her stomach to even go back in her head to those spaces, and she needed someone to fucking deck her. Pull her out. Shit... She was on her knee's and throwing up, hoping to fucking hell that Toran thought she was just drinking to fast. Edited by Mac, Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 17:43.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Toran | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 17:48 Post #43 |
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Toran contemplated the look of horror and disgust and other confusing things that washed off Mac's face, then the huge slug of vodka she took... and the subsequent vodka. The big man considered how badly Mac normally handled "emotional" shit and took pity on her. He stepped to the side so she wouldn't vomit on his boots and turned his back to her. Then he sat down on her arched form and sighed, letting her take the weight of his 260 lbs frame. He knew she could take it, that vampire shit gave her major mojo. He was pretty sure that surprise would let her screw her brain back into place... and if she had just drank to fast, it was still funny. His deep voice was casual as he murmured. "Yeah, it was all intense for me too. But, you get used to the idea. Everyone dies at some point." He taps his heel and rests his elbows on his knees, putting even more pressure across her spine. "Course, I could always just make a really BIG bomb... that'd be memorable, better than dying flat in a bed, wasted away and in a puddle of my own shit anyway." He pats the back of her head absently, like she were a small dog. Getting ready to get hurled across the street, or flipped, or have one of his legs broken. Either way, he figured she'd definitely break out of whatever this vomiting thing was. |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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| Mac | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 18:07 Post #44 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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His weight sitting down on her sure was surprising, but it wasn't quite enough to cause her just stop hurling semi yellowish liquid into the street. He had always been a gentle damn giant. She needed Church, she needed him to fucking deck her straight across the face and send her flying across the road. That thought made her laugh into the next wave of temptation, and she choked down the vomit that wanted to spew forth. Not a classy lady, she never would be. The increasing weight of him as he was lifting his feet was crushing, and she didn't want to slip down into the street if he decided to like...bounce or something. She could probably take it, but she wasn't quite feeling right at that moment and didn't want to risk it. "Get the fuck off... Or I'll break your leg." She'd push up hard, trying to throw him off and get to her feet. Her bottle of vodka had tipped over, and she reached to pick it up and keep going on it. Yeah it was dirty, but holy shit did she need it. She needed ten of it. The grinding of her knees into the concrete left imprints of the texture, a slight throbbing there. "It's your call fucker. You're fucked both ways." |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Toran | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 18:20 Post #45 |
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Toran braced his palms carefully, one on her rib cage and the other on her tailbone. Then he lifted all of his weight off the ground and dip a body twist to bring his feet up, away and back onto his feet. It would have been perfect too, except the length of his legs put him into the street and his heel slid off the curb with a jarring thump and he landed on his ass with a sort of squawking noise. "Yup. I am fucked. Unless you know any suckhead who can be trusted and would value of tough as shit mechanic?" He snorts and looks to see where his whiskey bottle went, taking another long slug and feeling the drink burn its way down into his stomach. His eyes blurred even further and he suddenly started wondering if he'd actually be able to climb back to his feet. How much had he drank? He regarded the near empty bottle of whiskey and realized that he MIGHT... be a bit too drunk. This fact was rather confirmed when he realized he couldn't feel his hands or feet very well. |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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| Mac | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 18:43 Post #46 |
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"Alright, ten minutes ago you may not have been a skunk... You're in skunk territory now Fucker." She brushed shit off her jeans, the back and forth movement causing a ruffling sound. Then she tipped up her Vodka and finished the bottle, throwing it to the side with a satisfying smash as it hit concrete. Better carry his fucking ass home, couldn't leave him drunk in the streets. Poor boy had -cancer-. Now that it'd been digested, she could turn it into bitter fuel and tease the shit out of him and call him an old man and stuff. Treat him like glass until he lost his temper and punched her out. Yeah, this could get fun. "And no. I'm not sure if a trust worthy Grinner exists... If you're going to find one though, You're in the right hood. Anarchs are your likeliest bet." She'd reach a hand down to help him up, to pull him over a shoulder and support his weight as they'd stumble the rest of the way. They had to be almost there right? "Where the fuck do you live? Not far my ass..." |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Toran | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 18:52 Post #47 |
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He blinked repeatedly and frowned in thought. Looking around as he was pulled to his feet he chuckles, his voice a bit burned from the sheer volume of whiskey he'd drank. "Er... About... 4 blocks.. THAT way." He points off to the side. He wobbled precariously as his arm goes over Mac's shoulder, fortunately she was tall enough to get a decent grip on him. He had the mad temptation to flex his arm and put her in a headlock. Just to see what he'd do. He giggled instead. "Er.. what's an Anarch?" His head hung for a moment. His other hand held the bottle of whiskey, almost empty in a death grip. "Where's my whiskey..." |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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| Mac | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 20:24 Post #48 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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Give him a black eye, that's what she'd do. She was way to Sober at that moment for the shit that was going on here, and sobriety in the face of this shit wasn't her style. Sobriety in general wasn't her style, and that fucking vodka was like water compared to the usual 96% Polish crap she drank. Her light buzz was barely there, as she began to assist her giant ass friend down the fucking streets. She'd wildly shake him around a little as he wondered where his Whiskey was, hoping to get him to drop it on route. She needed him to recognize his apartment damnit, cuz sure as fuck he was -not- coming back to hers. "You could stand to loose a few pounds... Fuck Toran. You put on a lot of weight in the slammer." The world under Torans weight was different, the heaviness of him forcing her to push hard into every step. Felt good. Physical weight was a lot easier to deal with than that other shit inside her noggin. She'd chase it away with a good smoke up after she dumped his ass in his place... and snooped around of course. She'd love to know what the fuck he was working on these days. Shop lift a new toy for a while. |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Toran | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 20:29 Post #49 |
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The big man mumbled as his teeth clicked together, but he didn't drop his bottle. He grunted fro the shaking and tightened his arm into the almost headlock he had considered earlier. "Fucking...stop...shaking...me" He rumbled out. Blinking repeatedly. "Look for red brick building with the windows bricked up... no.. can't see the window bricks. Put trash bags & plywood on the outside, to fool people... Blue door." His mind wandered a little as she muttered about his size and he grinned. Laughing in a soft, belching burble. "Had to get big. Scared the fish in the tank. Had to get strong. Hang from the bars with one hand, kick and punch with three limbs. Needed to be able to snap an arm with just one arm. Break a leg with a short kick. Close squatters fighting. One finch punch n'shit. Had to be able to outlive the poison attempts too. Too much mass, not n'uff poison. Max pen, no fun boss. No fun." |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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| Mac | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 04:49 Post #50 |
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Red bricks with a blue door... She found the place, having to haul Toran more and more as he became more and move incoherent as the booze found his system. "I'm not trying to shake ALL of you, but you're so fucking monsterous I can't help it... Drop the fucking whiskey. If you take one more sip you're going to kill your liver before the cancer gets you buddy. One problem we can try and get fixed, you die before we can fix it? That's a problem." She'd carry him in, somewhat stumbly with his weight shifting as he tried to help in the least helpful ways. Eventually dropping him on the nearest couch like surface, She would then searched for a blanket to throw over him, but wouldn't be so kind as to take off his shoes. Aint no way she wanted to be -that- nice, Torans feet were fucking putrifying. A man that large produced a lot of sweat, and those boots would be toxic zones. Once he was settled on the couch, she took the opportunity to win 'nicest home invasion' award and managed to find a bucket for him to be able to throw up when he wakes up. She also filled two glasses of water, and half emptied the tylenol out into a seperate cup and hid it, so he wouldnt O.D because of fucking bad he was going to feel the next day. She'd then scrawl her number down on a piece of paper in his assembly area, with the note "Mac Needs two new harnesses, with quick release clasps. Also, you're too fucking heavy." Edited by Mac, Thursday, 24. October 2013, 15:11.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Toran | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 12:29 Post #51 |
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Toran wakes and clutches his head in misery. The day that followed was sluggish, hellish and awful. Mac would probably have enjoyed the hell out of watching him. He still managed his workout routine, though at half the normal speed and nearly two buckets worth of water. He sent off a text to Mac once he found her number @CuntPunt: Bitch, I need your measurements. And grow stronger! Then he collapsed back into bed and did a decent job of sleeping for several days. |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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| Mac | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 18:14 Post #52 |
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@HarlequinromanceCover: Come get them powder. |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Toran | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 19:39 Post #53 |
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@CuntPunt come where angel tits? You didn't exactly leave an address. And knowing you you're either staying in a rat infested shit hole, or fort knoxs. |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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| Mac | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 20:21 Post #54 |
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@HarlequinromanceCover: 192 Lloyds bar. |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Toran | Thursday, 24. October 2013, 20:23 Post #55 |
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@CuntPunch you want me to bring a measuring tape, have you strip down so I can measure your thunder thighs at a bar? Ok.. well, if the stripper thing is you. I'll be there. When? |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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