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| Xeogaming Forums - - Posts by Pockets |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets         Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| PCH and Main. Just short of Huntington beach. visit away my dear Elara.
*evil grin* |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| 2
Memories Japan: January 12, 1804 Blood, smoke and snow. That was all I could smell. Damnit what the hell went wrong? I’d only been here for three years they shouldn’t have been able to tell yet. Someone had figured out that I wasn’t what I appeared to be and that had turned the entire village against me. Not even two weeks after the New Year and I was running about in the snow wearing nothing but a white hakama with a red belt holding it together. Luckily the snow landing on my bare shoulders and clinging to my hair didn’t bother me. My hand tightened around the hilt of the katana as I crept slowly along the wall of the biggest building in the village. I stepped carefully, my body light enough that even in the soft powder I left no footprints behind. I couldn’t help but smile, that would always be one of my favorite abilities. Walking across water periodically by making my body very light where people could see me had brought me no end of amusement over the years. Half the village was aflame, something I still regret even after a hundred years. I strained my ears as I crept along, listening for any sounds of pursuit. I really did not want to kill anyone if I could avoid it, but I would if I had to. “Gabriel-san!” No, I thought. Not him. Please if there’s any sort of God not him. I turned slowly and, despite my pleadings, there he was. “Go home Tatsuhito,” I said in fluent Japanese. “Please, go home and tell no one you saw me little brother.” His face was stained with soot and one arm of his shirt was slightly charred. “I have no home Gabriel-san,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “It has burned to the ground already.” His little six-year-old body looked so frail to me against the back drop of the gently falling snow and the roaring flames. I noticed he held his fathers Wakazashi with both of his hands. Earlier that night I’d had to take the mans life. “I am very sorry Tatsu-chan,” I whispered bowing low at the waist to him. “I cannot apologize enough for the tragedy I have brought to your village. It was not my intention.” “Why?” he cried. “Why do they attack you? If you did something bad then apologize to them.” Virith save me, he doesn’t know, I thought. He didn’t know what I was. In that moment I made a decision that would come to haunt me for the rest of my life. I held out one arm towards him. “Come here Tatsu-chan,” I whispered. His body shuddered a bit with repressed sobs before he flung himself at me, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. I held him close to me, letting him cry against me for a few moments, gently stroking the back of his head. A few tears of my own fell a moment later as I twisted his head sharply around, crushing every bone in his neck and killing him instantly. I dropped the Katana in my hand and slowly lowered his body to the snow. I’ve never been a very religious person. It’s not quite in my nature to be so. But I couldn’t help but take a brief moment of silence to say a few words over his still body. A minute later I rose to my feet, took the sword and scabbard from Tatsuhitos body. Sheathing the blade I tucked it into my belt and picked up my Katana before taking off into the shadows of the trees surrounding the small mountain village. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| Some of you might remember that I had a Werewolf/Vampire RP up for a while
titled The Brotherhood. I am interested in possibly starting a new one with a different plotline going on but still the same werewolves and vampires idea. I would like only people that are seriously interested in the game. If you don't think you'll be able to stay the course and post at least semi regularly than please take that into account before you attempt to join. Once I think I've got enough people I'll post a character layout and a defenition of the four different vampiric clans, as well as the werewolves. I want one vampire for each of the four clans and at least four werewolves for this game. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| There are four vampiric clans that survived the wars. Vampires and werewolves
didn't get along very well and were constantly trying to kill each other. Warring within the pack and clans also helped to thin their numbers and many of the more powerful vampiric bloodlines have completely died off. There will be four vampire clans each with a distinct special ability the other clans do not have, on top of the usual strength, speed, that kind of thing. Werewolves have three forms. Human, wolf, and hybrid form in the middle. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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Originally posted by Vulkar I'm going to pull the 'you didn't actually read the article' card. First he posted the blog AFTER finding out he was on the no-fly list. Secondly the person mentioning the blog was a friend that said there are other reasons why he was unlikely to be considered a terror threat, not other reasons why he was added to the list. The only reason is because of a lecture he gave at a school. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| ok so far I've only got 6 possibly 7 players. I think I can make do with that.
If people give the ok and want to start up I'll post the character sheet and story outline in the RP forum in a couple of days. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| Long Beach California: February 4, 2005
I pulled up to my apartment after reliving the memory of that snowy blood filled night. Heading straight upstairs I unlocked the door, the old memory drawing me inexorably forwards. I didn’t want to look, but I knew I would. Inside I dropped my keys onto the table by my bed and slowly turned to face my wall of swords. Hanging in a spot of honor, right in the center was a Wakazashi. The Wakazashi. The one Tatsuhito was carrying the night I killed him. “That’s the sword isn’t it?” I didn’t turn around to face the woman standing behind me. “This is the second time in as many days that someone has snuck up on me. I must be loosing my touch,” I said. I looked to my left at the Tai Chi sword I’d been practicing with earlier that morning. It was too far away for me to get to and draw before the person behind me could attack. There was only one option available to me at the moment. One that I did not want to use for personal reasons but I had no choice. Moving as quickly as I could I snatched the hilt of the Wakazashi as I spun on one foot bringing it around and down to point directly at the nose of the woman. “It’s been a while Vera,” I said, purposely repeating what I’d said to Claus the previous evening. “Yes it has,” she said. “I’ve missed you. My bed has been rather cold without you.” “I don’t appreciate being treated as a pet,” I snarled. “And spending 50 years chained to you was more than enough for any lifetime.” In case you who are reading these words were wondering or hadn’t guessed by now, I am a vampire. I am 327 years old born in the year 1678. I no longer remember where I was born, only that I lived for a time in Ireland before I was turned at the age of 18. Contrary to popular belief Vampires are nearly indistinguishable from humans. We sweat, we breathe and sleep. We also do enjoy the pleasures of the flesh as it is sometimes called. I’ve read a number of vampire stories where the vampires depicted shun all forms of physical intimacy, preferring instead just to bite their chosen victim. Just goes to show they were wrong as I did not feed from the lovely Rachel the night before. “You’ve had a woman here.” Vera said, bringing me to the present. “I believe I will have to find her, now that I have her scent, and kill her… painfully.” I swore mentally. My face showed no signs of the turmoil going on inside. Vera, was a werewolf. As such her sense of smell rivaled even mine and I have frequently in the past tracked a person by their scent alone. This was not good. What made it worse was that I knew that with my current armaments I had no way of killing her. Damned Lychen immunity to all damage except that caused by silver. I had promised myself a long time ago that I would never wield Tatsus’ Wakazashi except against one man. Threntü would be the first and only creature to feel the bite of Tatsus’ blade. The vampire that turned me would die by the edge of that sword. Vera, would not. “Why kill her Vera?” I asked. “She’s just a human, practically a child, far beneath your notice.” “You belong to me,” she growled. “I cannot let some slut share your bed and get away with it without retribution.” Her left hand came up and she slapped the blade away from her face at the same time darting in past my guard. Her hands hit my chest and she shoved me up against the wall behind me before I had a chance to react. The next thing I knew her lips were crashing violently against my own, my lip splitting open against my teeth. She held the kiss, if it could be called that, for several moments as she dug her fingernails into my chest, drawing blood. She finally broke the kiss and pulled back, licking my blood from her lips. “Are you quite finished?” I drawled acting as bored as I possibly could manage while struggling to keep my revulsion from my face. “Because, if you are, I’d like to know what prompted this little visit.” I pushed her away slightly and turned to re-sheathe the Wakazashi and placed it back on the wall. “The Brotherhood has placed a price on your head my pet,” she whispered in my ear, pressing herself against my back. “You won’t give me any trouble now, will you?” I felt her hands slide down my chest towards my belt. “Define ‘trouble,’” I growled as I reached down and tightly grasped her right wrist. With a sharp twist I snapped her wrist and both of the bones in her forearm. Before she could even gasp in pain I spun out of her grip and smashed my elbow into her face. I felt at least three teeth break under the force of the blow and her head snapped back so hard I could hear the bones in her neck popping. “Oh you’re going to pay for that, Pet,” she growled, blood dripping down her chin. “Probably,” I agreed, “but not quite yet.” Leaning back I braced my shoulders against the wall and planted my right boot in between her breasts. The next second she was flying backwards from the force of my kick right through the tall windows of my apartment. I grabbed my keys and my bike jacket and shrugged it on as I sprinted forwards and jumped out of the window after her. Below me, as I fell the three stories to the street, I could see a crowd already beginning to gather around the broken and bloody form of the were-bitch from hell. They had no idea what they were getting into. I landed silently behind them and sprinted as quickly as possible down the block to my bike, leaping on and tearing off into traffic at top speed. I ignored the blaring car horns and occasional crash that I caused as well as I ignored things like traffic lights, signs, and basically traffic laws in general. It was roughly six miles from my apartment to Rachel’s college and I knew that if I didn’t beat Vera there then Rachel would have very few moments of life left. Luckily it was only three in the afternoon so I’d still have a couple hours of daylight. As soon as night fell it would become very dangerous around here. During the drive I had just enough time to remember a few things; things I didn’t really want to remember. My past seemed to have a habit of catching up to me, and it looked as if there was no escaping the inevitable. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| Her eyes opened slowly. Even though she was awake she was not aware of her surroundings. Her eyes saw nothing, her ears and nose detected neither sound nor scent. She could not feel the cushion of hay beneath her weary body, nor could she taste the dust in the air.
Her sight was dominated by a single image, that of a flame flickering in a sea of darkness. A flame as black as night itself, and hotter than all the lava pools of the underworld. She blinked, and suddenly all her senses came alive at once, almost overwhelming her with the rush of input. She could taste and smell the dusty air, she could feel the pieces of hay poking uncomfortably through her clothes, and the ever present pain she’d learned to live with. Her ears were assaulted by the sounds of creaking wood and the clinking of metal and plodding hoof beats. Her eyes finally took in the wagon around her. Turning her head to the front of the wagon she saw the old man that had offered a ride to the nearest town. How long ago was that? she thought. One day? Two? More? Seeing the questions as unsolvable for the moment she switched directions in her thoughts. It was that dream again. Why? Every night it’s the same damn dream. Always the same, never changing in any way. “Oh, yer awake now are ye?” The voice broke into her musing, scattering her thoughts like a startled flock of birds. She frowned slightly in irritation as the thread of her thought slipped away from her. “I was jes beginnin’ to wonder when ye’d finally wake,” the old man continued from his spot on the drivers box. “It’s nearly high sun.” He lifted a cloth wrapped bundle from the seat next to him and held it back towards her. “Thought ye might be gettin’ hungry,” he said. Reaching out she took the bundle without a word of thanks, but she patted his hand once as she did so to show her gratitude. Opening the bundle she found a chunk of bread, a large piece of cheese, and, of all things, an apple. Before she could do anything else he spoke again. “Don’t worry about the fruit. We passed by a tree growing by the side of some blokes house a few miles back.” He turned in his seat to look back at her and closed one watery blue eye in a wink. “I stopped and picked me some.” She smiled. Not very noticeably but there was a small smile there nonetheless. As he turned back to the front she picked up the bread in one hand and the cheese in the other and started to eat as her stomach chose that moment to inform her that she’d not eaten in some time by rumbling loudly. She made short work of the bread and cheese and soon, only the apple was left. Considering for a moment she hefted the large piece of ripe fruit in one hand. Coming to a decision she dropped the apple into one of her black coats many deep pockets. Grabbing her pack she scrambled to her feet in the swaying wagon and climbed into the drivers box next to the old man where she set one hand on his. He gave a gentle tug on the reigns and the horses hitched to the small wagon came to a stop. “Yeah?” She pointed at one of the horses, a questioning look in her large, expressive, grey eyes. He turned to look towards the horses but she turned his head back to her with one slim hand on his cheek. Reaching into another of her pockets she pointed again towards the horses and then brought her hand back to reveal four gold coins glittering in the early morning sunlight. She grabbed his hand and dropped the heavy coins one at a time into his palm. He looked blankly at the fat coins in his hand for a moment before looking back up at her. She nervously licked her lips and, for the first time in the three days he’d known her, opened her mouth to speak. “Buy… horse..?” she asked slowly, wincing in pain and rubbing the front of her throat through the light scarf she wore with one hand at every word. Her voice was a dry rasp, but he could tell that it once might have been a beautiful sound to hear. He looked back and forth from the coins in his hand to the young girl sitting in front of him. He smiled. Taking her hand he set the coins back in her palm and folded her fingers closed over the coins. “No child,” he murmured softly. “Ye don’ have te pay me.” He climbed down off the wagon and began unhitching one of the horses. She smiled as she watched him work and while his back was turned she set the coins on the seat next to her. Lifting her pack she leapt off the wagon, her long coat streaming out behind her to reveal the tight fitting black shirt and trousers she wore underneath and the long sword hanging from her right hip. She landed heavily on her feet and swept the nearly floor length, wrist thick braid of her hair back over her shoulder. By the time the old man turned around her coat had settled again and her body was once again hidden within its shadows. He led the light grey roan over to her. “This is Cloud,” he said by way of introduction. “Will ye be alright ridin’ ‘im bareback?” he asked. She merely smiled, more broadly this time, and nodded her head as she held out her hand for the horse to sniff. The large creature snuffled at her hand for a moment before stepping forward and laying his head on her shoulder, sighing contentedly as she started using her fingernails to scratch the side of his head and ears. The old man chuckled. “Looks like he likes ye,” he said as she stepped away from the horse. She favored him with another smile, and then put her arms through the straps of her pack. The brown leather was well worn, but also well cared for, its sides bulged from within by its contents and several pockets jingled as she swung it around onto her back. She stood next to the horse for a moment before turning to face the old man. Running up to him she wrapped her arms around him in a quick embrace and thanked him with a peck of her lips against his weathered cheek before she turned and ran back to Cloud. Swinging herself up onto his back she gripped his mane tightly in her two fists and thumped the heels of her boots into his flanks. “Hey,” the old man shouted after her. “What’s yer name?” She was rapidly getting further away from him and in his age his eyes could barely track her at that distance… but he thought he heard that dry rasp floating back to him on the wind. He thought he heard a single word. “Tsun.” |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| Why kick the pockets? That's mean. | |||
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| Booted footsteps sounded loudly off of the marble floor, echoing down the stone hallways of the palace. A large figure, cloaked in shadow made its way down the dark passageways. The figure seemed to blur at times as it passed through areas of deeper shadow and would then reappear further down the hallway.
Finally the figure reached a large, ornately carved set of double doors. The thick, solid bronze doors were covered in intricate drawings of a massive battle. If one were to stand long enough and watch the images depicted would come alive and a great war would be waged silently within the metal as soldier tore soldier apart with sword and axe and lightning rained from the sky to destroy scores of men in an instant, leaving nothing but a smoking crater behind. Raising one large fist the figure smashed its hand against the door repeatedly, the sound reverberating through the stone floor beneath its boots as if a mighty bell had just been struck a massive blow. The tone echoed throughout the compound for several minutes before finally fading away to silence. A moment after the sound had fully faded into nothingness the doors swung silently open of their own accord. Once there was enough space for the figure to squeeze through it did so, striding quickly and purposefully into the chamber beyond. It came to a stop several dozen feet from a large stone dais and dropped to one knee, right hand held over its heart, left fist pressed to the ground. Two enormous thrones of stone sat on the dais and a withered old man occupied one. His hair was a brilliant silver in color and hung down his back in waves that cascaded over the arms of his throne to fall to the floor, barely brushing the smoothly polished black marble. “My Lord,” the figure said in a deep, rumbling and obviously masculine tone. “We believe we may have found the girl you seek.” The question came a moment later, but not from the old mans mouth as his lips never moved. Instead the dry, whispered question seemed to assault the kneeling man from out of the darkness surrounding him, from all sides at once. “Where is she?” it asked. “Intelligence shows that she was driven from her home town approximately twenty years ago. They began to fear and detest her when she reached her fortieth spring yet still appeared as if she were nineteen or twenty years of age.” “That does not answer my question warrior,” the voice whispered around him, disapproval clearly evident in its tone. “My apologies my Lord…” “I do not want your apologies,” the voice roared now as the kneeling man felt his eyes start to burn and blood red tears dripped down his cheeks as his masters power began to take hold of him. “I want to know where she is.” “Our intelligence says that she may be approaching the city of Arden to the west. The tracking spell you gave to us has picked up small traces of dark magic moving that way.” The pain behind his eyes continued for a few moments, but he refused to cry out. He’d seen what his master did to those that could not handle a little pain. Eventually the pressure lifted from behind his eyes and the bleeding stopped. Dropping his eyes to the ground he saw some blood fall from his chin where it had gathered. Before it could strike the smooth marble however he caught it in one hand and quickly wiped it off on his shirt. “Very good,” the voice whispered once again. The old man in front of him lifted one spindly arm and pointed a long wrinkled finger with its wickedly curved nail in his direction. A moment later a jet of black flame shot up from the marble in front of him in a column of black fire nearly fifteen feet high. When it faded there remained a small table, a bottle, and a bronze goblet. “Drink,” the voice whispered. Eagerly, the large man leaped forward and snatched up the goblet. Ripping the cork from the neck of the bottle with his teeth he poured the viscous black liquid inside into the goblet. Ignoring the smoke that issued forth from the mouth and the hissing bubbling sound as it started to eat through the metal he raised the goblet to his lips and gulped down the contents. His body began to convulse as the liquid coursed its way through his body. He poured another glass as he began to sweat a thin black liquid that ignited into flame as the air struck it and soon most of his cloak and shirt were merely a memory as he poured again and gulped down his third glass, thus finishing the bottle. He fell to his knees as the liquid continued to course through his body. His waist length black hair began to wave about his head as if he was immersed in water, then, suddenly burst into a three foot long tongue of black fire. His hands began to glow darkly and black balls of fire appeared in his cupped palms. “Release,” the voice whispered into his mind. There was a moment of absolute silence, then a concussion ripped through the air blowing the old mans long hair out behind him and an explosion shattered the silence of the large throne room. When the dust cleared the man was naked, his clothes destroyed by the power that had ripped itself from his body. He knelt in a small crater in the marble and his hair once again fell about his bared shoulders and down his back. Rising to his feet he grinned a feral baring of his teeth, and his eyes were two endless pool of black flame, as if one was staring into the eyes of the Lord of the Dead himself. “Go, Vedil,” the voice whispered as the warrior turned and began to make his way towards the doors. “Find her. Bring her to me. So that I might finally realize my power.” |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| The Brotherhood is an alliance between the Vampires and the Werewolves. 500
years ago the treaty was reached and the peace has lasted up to this date. The story is set in modern day United States and parts of Japan. You will be travelling somewhat in this story. The beginning will take place in a little hole-in-the-wall bar in downtown Long Beach. Here are the vampire clans: Vampire clans: 1. The Kargoni: Named for their founding mother, the Kargoni clan has the unique ability to change their physical features to whatever they wish them to be. Within certain boundaries. The most powerful of the clan could change their physical size within a foot of their height shorter or taller. They could change to look like anyone else but could not imitate voice or knowledge, just appearance. They can also change to look like a member of the opposite sex but it would be purely cosmetic. A female could not change to look like a male and still have the same anatomical functions as a true male. Weakness: They frequently develop slight personality quirks as changing frequently to look like one person or another Kargoni sometimes lose sight of who they were before they started changing. They lose their own sense of self and fall into depression and despair. 2. The Shadu: Also known as Shades. Named for their founding father the Shadu have the unique ability to change their body to appear as if it was a shadow. They still retain their physical form though so they cannot slide through the cracks in doors or windows. They simply become dark, like the silhouette of a human shape. This ability makes them exceptionally skilled at assassination. As such the clan has created a gun-for-hire type of industry and has, over the centuries amassed a large amount of wealth as well as political connections. Weakness: All vampires have a minor irritation to sunlight though they are capable of moving around during the day without bursting into flames. The Shadu, while in Shade form, are extremely susceptible to light. A strong flashlight will cause sever burns that will be very slow to heal. Direct sunlight is always fatal. 3. The Rentu: Named for their founding father, they have two minor abilities that can be used in conjunction with each other to give them the power of flight. Or a controlled hover. Their abilities are that they can make their bodies incredibly light, and with a minor control over wind push themselves around like feathers on a breeze. Weakness: The Rentu spend so much time in the air typically that once they’re actually on the ground for any reason they’re incredibly clumsy and uncoordinated. Also as they spend so much time with their heads in the clouds, so to spreak, they’re the smallest of the clans. Very rarely is a new Rentu created in these modern times. 4. The Vasith: Named for the love of the founding father, the Vasith are Telepath’s and Empaths. Their telekinetic ability is such that a Vasith could pick up a large car or truck and throw it. Their empathic ability allows them to be aware of their surrounding area and to know when there is danger of attack as it is impossible to attack someone without broadcasting an emotion that the Vasith would pick up on. Weakness: Many of the Vaisth become insane and destroy themselves early in their lives before they learn to deaden the constant influx of emotions streaming in from around them. Most are mute after spending so much time using their minds to communicate that they forget how to use their vocal cords. Physically, a Vasith’s strength is only barely above that of a well conditioned human, compared to the other vampires they are incredibly weak. Clans will be given as a first come first serve basis. The Vasith have already been spoken for so PM me your top two and I will assign who is what. There will only be three more vampires, so I need three to four werewolves. The werewolves have three forms. Their human form, which has approximately half the typical strength of your average vampire. A wolf form, which just appears to be a slightly larger than average Gray Wolf. And a Hybrid form. Think your typical wolf-man kind of transformation. The hybrids physical strength is usually around twice that of your typical vampire. After I get clan choices back I will post the beginning description of the first meeting place. I will send intro instructions to each of you in a PM. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| I started the RP. Send me a PM on what clan you wish to be in or if you're going
to be a werewolf. Details are in the RP forum. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| Post your character sheet, then your beginning post.
As you enter the area you see a simple sign advertising a bar by the name of 'Pockets'. The whole left wall inside is taken up by bar. Exposed behind it are rows and rows of glass bottles. A plethora of them, creating their own glistening rainbow. The other half of the bar is taken up by vats and buckets for brewing beer. It turns out the barkeep prefers beer to hard alcohol. The ceiling does not stand tall. The furniture does not gleam. The booths creak when you sit in them, and the tables and chairs are long worn with the markings of many people’s different flavored sins. Most of all it feels like home. The pool tables smile with their green felt teeth. The wood that makes the entire structure, and it’s furniture, creaks and swells on cold rainy days making the whole place seem to sway with the songs that come out of the newly fitted juke box and stereo system. Most of all people love Pockets for the drinks. The owner carries anything one could dream of. Anything from the finest bottle of cognac, to the world’s only black rum, a cultured variety of wine, and his impeccable self brewed beer. The beer made his bar unique. If a regular came in and said they wanted to brew mead, he’d do it knowing they’d be back in two years to toast. No one ever comes to Pockets for anything, but good drinks, great pool, and a soundtrack for life. Except for tonight. By this time of night the last few regulars were heading home, and the bartender stood cleaning glasses idly behind the bar. As you enter the bartender looks up and greets you. "We're getting ready to close," he say's. "If you want a drink order quick." |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| The bartender looks up at Caine through a pair thin silver framed glasses, contempt
clearly visible in his eyes. "I close when I close, and if you don't like that you'll find your ass nailed to a tree," he said pleasantly, pulling a straight sword from beneath the counter. The dull gleam on it's edge was a sure indicator that it was lined with silver. He nodded to Kimura and then turned to the exotic looking Kismet. "Interesting drink for a pretty thing like you," he said as he set a glass in front of her and poured the liqour from a dusty green bottle. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| The bartender nods to Kimura, "By all means." Reaching into the breast pocket of his black dress shirt he retrieves a silver zippo and flicks it open to light her cigarette.
After lighting it he deftly pours a double shot of Tattoo and begins to reach for a beer mug before pausing and looking at Kimura. "Sake ga suki desu ka." Reaching back he retrieves a glass and pours a generous amount of Bärenjäger from a dark brown bottle. None of the bottles have labels on them. "Hier sind Sie ma'am. Wie ist Ihr Abend bis jetzt gewesen?" he say's in fluent German as he sets the glass down in front of Aria. "You are quite welcome ma'am," he say's to Kismet. (Last edited by Pockets on 04-18-07 02:08 AM) |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| "Ziemlich gut, ma'am. Hier auf Geschäft oder Vergnügen, wenn ich bitten kann?"
He say's to Aria. "And yes I do have Sake that is served chilled." Turning back to Kimura he winks and retreats into the back for a moment. When he returns he has two white procelain bottles in his hands. One has steam issuing from the mouth and the other is obviously chilled, moisture collecting on the outside. Setting them down he pours a small glass for the ladies and sets them down. Turning to Ionesco he squints slightly and studies him for a moment. "I think I have something you would be interested in." Turning he reaches over the glasses behind him and moves a painting on the wall revealing a safe behind it. Turning a quick combination he opens the safe and retrieves a clear bottle so covered in dust that it leaves a large cloud behind when he moves it. He picks up a very small shot glass and pours a minute amount of a bright green liquid into it very carefully setting it in front of Ionesco. "Let's see if that is to your liking." |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| Name: Daren Clarke
Age: 27 Gender: Male Appearance: 5' 10'', brown hair worn at mid back length, usually in a braid. Light colored skin and hazel eyes. Slim build but defenite muscle defenition so he frequents a gym periodically but not obssesively. History: His parents died when he was two and he has no memory of them. He was one of the lucky ones that go through the public system and was eventually placed with a good family. Honest foster parents, a foster sister that was three years older than him. Working hard he excelled in school and developed a passionate love for reading which he eventually turned into a business license and he opened his own bar at the age of 25. The Green Dragon bar was an all around solid establishment. There was a spacious if simple living area upstairs where Daren resided and the downstairs sported several pool tables, a well stocked liqour section and several different beers to match the tastes of his customers. Overall there is very little that is remarkable about Daren. He's single, honest, works hard in his bar and has few friends or much of a social life. He still loves to read and frequently plays games of trivia with some of his regulars. Occupation: Owner and Operator of the Green Dragon Bar. Residence: Apartment located above the bar that he owns. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Daren woke to a blaring alarm clock and quickly smashed his fist down on it several times until he finally hit the off button. Sunlight streamed in through the windows of his apartment located above the bar that he owned and ran himself. "These late nights are gonna kill me," he muttered as he slowly dragged himself out of bed. Taking a quick shower and drinking some coffee he made his way downstairs and turned on the tv's. Flipping the juke box on he unlocked the front door and opened it turnign around a sign so that it read "Open" on the outside. Going around behind the bar he sat down and picked up a book on Particle Accelerators. |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| As ghost slams back the very old bottle of Absinthe the bartender chuckles
and shakes his head. He walks over to Grim and pulls yet another dusty bottle from beneath the counter. "Hmmm... 150 year's old my grizzled looking friend," he says as he pours the Scotch into a glass. "You'd like it neat I would imagine?" He slides the glass forward so that it rests in front of Grim and then slides an ashtray over to both him and Kimura. "Please try not to get any ash on the floor, I just had the carpets cleaned." He pauses and looks around the room. He seems to be counting slowly in his head and after a moment nods to himself as if confirming something. "Well," he says. "It looks like the gang's all here." He get's another glass and pulls an unlabled wine bottle off a shelf. Pulling the cork he pours himself a glass of a deep red wine and takes a sip. "Thank you all very much for coming. I would like to take this opportunity to inform you why you have been invited here." He set's down his glass and leans over the bar, meeting everyones gaze in turn. "There is a sickness within the Brotherhood. A cancer. And I have chosen you seven, to be the cure." |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| The bartender nods to Ionesco. "Appreciated friend," he says as he turns to
glance at Caine. "I would listen to Ionesco if I were you, he seems to have far more common sense than you do." "Sorry Ghost, business has started, the kitchen is closed. I'll fire you up a steak later if you want though." He takes another sip of his wine and the gathered vampires and werewolves get a whiff of sent that tells them that it's actually blood in the glass, not wine. After licking the blood from his lips he sets down the glass and leans back against the back of the bar. "This cancer is going to destroy the Brotherhood. Peace has lasted for over 500 years and there is a force working to destroy it. Several high ranking members have been found dead. Worse they were killed be a simple gunshot wound to the head. Something strange is going on and I need you seven to find out what it is." (Last edited by Pockets on 04-18-07 12:53 PM) |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4885 days Last activity: 4401 days |
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| "It isn't charity as you put it," said the Bartender, glaring at Caine. "You're going
to help or you're going to find yourself hunted and killed. And trust me, they will make sure you suffer." "Don't you get it you fool. A werewolf has been found, dead of gunshot wound to the head. a regular bullet, not silver. The severity of this situation should be obvious even to one of your apparently limited intelligence. |
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