![]()
|
|||||||||||||||
| 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: |
| The Sewer Rose; Attn: Sawyer & Toran | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Tuesday, 10. December 2013, 06:47 (1,877 Views) | |
| Sawyer | Sunday, 22. December 2013, 09:11 Post #41 |
![]()
Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
|
When Sawyer reappeared, he had a pair of floral combat boots in Margo's size dangling from their laces between his clawed fingers. They were significantly hardier than the rainboots she'd arrived in, though it was obvious they were meant more for style than function. He figured Miss Shabby-Chic wouldn't object too much. Where they came from was yet another mystery for the ages. With a bit of a flourish, he dropped them at her feet. "Here," he added, fishing out a pair of thick woolen socks from the shopping bag the boots had originally arrived in and tossing them at the Toreador. "That should do, huh? Also, uh, laces! Tie 'em! Don't let no storm drain or nothin' steal this pair!" The Nosferatu stood back, surveying his troops with a critical eye. After a bit of defrosting, they appeared to be in one piece, albeit a very scruffy piece. He nodded in apparent satisfaction."Right, chickadees, if that's all ya need... then get your asses back in there! See y'all soon, and watch out for any unexpected company!" With a cheerful little cluck of his tongue, Sawyer vanished once more, scrambling back up the nearby ladder and into the night beyond. |
![]() Dialogue color = #9F4438 | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Sunday, 22. December 2013, 09:28 Post #42 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
Margo's brow lifted at the sight of the boots. She smirked "These are adorable!" Margo shook her head wondering how he came up with them. They were more girly then her usual clothes, but they certainly had a stylish, perhaps kitschy appeal. She gratefully took the nice warm wool socks and got her feet in the boots and all laced up. The fact that she was in a makeshift skirt and an enormous t-shirt that fit her like a nightgown simply illustrated the absurdity of Margo's situation. Margo really wanted to test-fire her Glock to see if would work now from her makeshift repairs, but she figured that sort of noise was... a bad idea. The little Toreador gave a small wave and a smile to where Sawyer was, then headed down the tunnel to catch up with Toran. |
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Toran | Sunday, 22. December 2013, 14:22 Post #43 |
![]()
The Formerly Hated
|
The muscular ghoul grunts and starts following the map down a tunnel. It was good that the rest of the path would be dry he supposed, but the thought of additional company wasn't the most pleasant. Well, a few tiny bursts of the flame thrower would probably startle most animals off. Or at least, he could hope. Course, given how damned fierce ghoul animals could be, that was no guarantee. Sawyer had warned him about how fierce the blood hungry critters down here in the sewer could be and he'd been loyal in not screwing around down here. He shifted his belt to make sure it was set right. His hand tapping each of the home made grenades. He really hoped he didn't have to use them. Neither was lethal but they'd make a hell of a mess. The concussion grenade would make a hell of a boom too, but that was the point. Settling the night vision goggles back on his forehead he set himself for the next three hours of hiking. His knife was also in place. He'd have to grind the edge and re-oil it, but the vaseline coating should have kept it from getting too bad off. A trick he'd learned from the divers on the base growing up. His boots had a bit of a squelch since they hadn't fully dried out, but his socks were thick enough that he shouldn't suffer more than some really funky athletes foot. But if that was the worst of his problems he'd have come through this without any real problems. He kept his eyes and ears peeled for any sign that they were coming up on animal dens. Especially piles of scat. If they started piling up it'd be a pretty solid sign they were coming up on an animal's habitat. |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Sunday, 22. December 2013, 16:06 Post #44 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
Margo's spirit had significantly improved. Drier tunnels were as welcome as silk sheets at this point. So were nice dry boots. Margo even felt better enough to realize how absolutely absurd she must look. But if she came through this, the crude jeans skirt and the huge t-shirt were going to be saved as novelty trophies of this experiment. Margo kept her [heightened senses] up. It was becoming clear to the Toreador that Toran was not taking her vampiric gifts into account. They were not learning to be a team. Margo was getting initiated with this survival training, but Toran was doing his own thing. He was better perhaps at recognizing a threat. But Margo saw them and heard them before he did. With the no-talking ban in effect, Margo would simply have to bring these thoughts up in the debriefing. But at the moment, she was uninterested in getting another of Toran's dismissive, patronizing looks. Thinking back on the experience so far, Margo's fear of the ghoul was slowly turning to annoyance. He was definitely falling into the asshole category of Margo's mind. Which, she would think, Toran would wear like a badge of honor. Edited by Margo Moreau, Sunday, 22. December 2013, 18:52.
|
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| Toran | Sunday, 19. January 2014, 18:09 Post #45 |
![]()
The Formerly Hated
|
They'd searched for hours and nothing had happened. Toran had long ago turned off his torch to save the fuel. Finally an alarm beeped very softly on his phone to show it was time. "That's in. Time's up. You'll need to head for your haven now. We'll just have to tell Sawyer there was nothing to find." He took out the Map and took out a sharpy; drawing a simple path to the nearest service exit. "Once you're here your phone'll work. Ghoul will have about an hour to get you to safety before the sun is up AND it's over the border into Camarilla territory. I'm gonna go up here. Drop off a couple of cameras with wireless transmitters and then take a cab home." The man nodded and handed over the map, climbed the sewer tunnel and slipped into a shaft that would let his thick muscled body scramble out a river flow channel. He'd be a bit wet but he could dry off on the walk home; or just take a cab. He hadn't seen anything to indicate that the Toreador would have trouble with the short, relatively straight tunnel path that would put her in a safe zone, easy to get away. That was that. Wasted night for both of them really. But harmless enough he supposed. |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
![]() |
|
| Margo Moreau | Monday, 20. January 2014, 06:59 Post #46 |
![]()
Rebel Toreador
|
Just when Margo was starting to get comfortable with not liking Toran, he started talking like a nice guy. She really didn't know what to think about the massive... handsome, ghoul. At least she wasn't utterly terrified of him anymore. That was a win she supposed. "Thanks..." Margo said to Toran. Mentally exhausted. She leaned up against the wall. Feeling awkward and foolish. The Sewer Rose started making her way along the path Toran had indicated. She was feeling bad about Myrtle, bad about Sawyer. Stupid over Toran, Stupid over her own mouth. Her head still hurt where Caston crushed it into the table. She was going to smell like shit for a week. As she trudged along towards the world above she was looking down at her boots. Margo had never actually had a pair of Docs. They were pretty comfortable. She hoped they weren't totally ruined. Eh, Tavin could fix that. He can do anything. |
![]() English French Theme Songs: New Rose by The Damned, Mommy's Little Monster by Social Distortion | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · The Borough of Enfield · Next Topic » |













3:18 PM Jul 11