regnhild said Nov 20, 2011
OCC))Okies we have had a long breather... Torch has been fighting with Djordji and Raziel dreaming. Here is what has been occurring in the interim of our breather. ((
Almost before you are able to blink, your bonds are cut through and your grabbed and pulled off in the direction of the Main Gate. You noticed a flash of red hair, and then you are on the street outside of the cementary. Atara looks up at you, grins, and gets on her Lipstick Red Ninja 500... "Better hurry before your toast", she joked as she drove away toward the plantation.
Torch grimaces in anger..before the grimace left his face he was beside the speeding bike reaching forth with his hand and punching through the aluminium tank, with a deep breathe he focuses his energies into his hand causing the tank, the rear of the bike and his left side front and back to take flame. Atara back flipped off the back landing in a crouched position, breathing deeply. She was burned on her back but only enough to cause discomfort. Upon landing, she takes on the defenses of the Cobra, transforming in one between breaths. Torch threw a punch, it landed and though it hurt greatly. Atara swerved away from him. Dislike and distrust growing in her eyes, hatred glowing in Torch's. Atara calls upon skin of the Adder to help withstand the ferocious blows that Torch delivered. Even with this, her strength was beginning to wane.Torch sensing this threw up Wall of Flame to corner her and prevent her retreat, she called upon Flowing Wall to counter that attack.
In his last punch, Atara bit Torch using Blood To Water defense, causing his blood to thin. He retaliated with Might, and
her bite had thinned his blood too much. She tried to vanish, though his furious hit stopped her. Torch becoming aggravated with the fight lets loose Hand of Flame . Following through with a lethal punch, knocks her out. He then picks her up and bodily throws her into the trunk of his car, and drives to the plantation. Just beating the dawn by minutes.
He leaves the car, slamming the door, looks over at Alex, threw his keys toward him. " Gift for you and you better hurry." He chuckled as he entered the plantation.
The closer you get to the source of the screams, the deeper the darkness grows. The metal scaping is heard clearer now. It surrounds you and flickers of sparks appear to flash every where. You note with your heightened senses, that this is not just any ordinary shadow. As you do a scream is heard yet again, deeper into the gloom. Your senses also sense the oncoming dawn. You perhaps have an hour left before you need to seek refuge.
Liulfr looked at the sleeping childer and chuckled... "Aye, lad ye have a lot to learn.." He, then looked upon Djordji's hands and wrists. Twas as he suspected. Now if the childer can control his temper... he may learn something. Liuflr chuckled and left the sleeping one.~~~~~The childer continued to sleep. His dreams were filled with thoughts of a dark-haired kindred with a haunted expression and the twin suns that had taken up residence in his palms. As if by magic, his consciousness seemed to drift out over the city of Savannah in his dream state.~~~~~ In his scrambling to gain some hope of freedom, Djordji's hand fell against the Waffediyok nestled against his bare chest. He saw the brush of bright auburn hair that held the brass and shine of a new copper penny. His hand closed on the Waffediyok and he absently looked down to fix his gaze on the amulet he wore. As his gaze fixed firmly on the amulet, he said in Romanian, "Mama..." At that instant, the dream world, the voice and its sickening caress disappeared into a black void that erased itself from Djordji's memory. The childer awakened from his sleep and sat bolt upright in the bed, crying out but a single name, "Amadeus!"
As the childer awakened, he noticed that he was able to move with almost no pain, and the bone in his shin had mended nicely. Looking down he noted that he was still in his latest fashion short short shorts. Having dried in his sleep they were abit on the tight side. To the point of discomfort. Still clasping the Waffediyok, he stepped from the bed and onto the floor. As soon as his feet touched the cool heartpine planks, Molly burst into the room, followed by Halifax.
"Court will be beginning soon, you may wish to change into something more appropriate." Halifax stated as he coolly accessed the half dressed childer. His light grey eyes slide down Djordji's frame, taking note of anything out of place. "You look healed enough." With that he placed a stack of clothing upon the foot of the bed, turned on his heel and began to leave. Molly with her arms crossed, stamped her foot, nodded pointedly to the clock on the wall.. and followed behind Halifax.
With sweat soaked locks of ebony hair clinging to your face, you fought through the last tormenting dream.
Within this dream, you see familiar faces of long ago. Before you turned. Glimpses of what once was yet never to be had again. A black and white sunrise, a child's loving gaze. A woman's gentle hand upon your arm, the call to the breakfast table filled with scones, clotted cream, and curd. Tumbles in the strawberry fields with the special someone...
Then a face of someone unfamiliar appears, it was covered with a mask only showing the eyes. Eyes that shimmered and caught the light, slightly upturned at the edges, almond shaped. Knives surround this personage of unknown origin, uniquely shaped ones like stars; oddly dressed individual; with loose fitting, dark wrapped clothing.
Then she appears, her eyes mock you. Her lips tease you. And she beckons you to come back.
Djordji said Nov 23, 2011
ICC)) Djordji notices that Halifax seems to be giving him the eye and the childer allowed himself to imagine that Halifax was very much liking what he saw of the mostly naked kindred. Djordji felt a subtle shift in his mood and in his anatomy. He knew that if he looked in the mirror opposite the bed, he would see that his eyes had shifted to their luminescent amethyst. Just to check, he eased himself out of the bed and eased his full weight down on his feet. As he began to move, however, he was brought up short by a tightness and pinching in the region of his groin. Not really wanting to be delicate with the remains of his leather pants, he shredded the remnants of his defunct clothing and stood, stark naked in the middle of the room. One glance at the mirror told him all he needed to know. His eyes were shining like two bright purple lights in the dark. It reminded him of the lights atop the coroner's van he had seen in the past. Taking a deep breath to concentrate, the childer spends a willpower to control his eyes. He may have to feel the waves of lust from his vice, but he didn't have to flash everyone at court with an amethyst light show. Besides that, he felt a weariness of soul that had nothing to do with his vice. Where Torch had slung him, he had healed. He looked down at his wrists and palms and he felt a lump of terror begin to rise at the strange tattoos of solid gold that he now bore. Keep it under control, he told himself. He still felt like he was coated in muck from the river and promptly padded to the bathroom and where he found an ornate clawed footed tub in white porcelain with a shower curtain and a rain shower type shower head overhanging it. He stepped and turned turned the water up hot. Djordji relished the feel of the steamy water sluicing down his body and washing the grime and tiredness away. He was pleased to note that the soap was lavender scented and the the shampoo that was available was jasmine scented and it complimented the lavender nicely. His vice was in full swing as his anatomy was attesting to and he did his best to ignore it's teasing. Moments later he emerged from the shower refreshed and ready for business. He tried not to think of Torch. When he did, his anger started to burn and he felt his Ravnos instincts kicking in and he begins to plot the most satisfying and elaborate forms of revenge. He finished toweling himself off and looked at the clothes that Halifax had selected for him to wear. It was all very drab. Djordji DID NOT do drab. He was all about color and flash. The grey clothes looked like the matte paint of a naval battleship and he felt his mood sink a little with it. The shirt would have been bearable if the drabness of the grey had been broken by a pattern or some small splash of color to give it life. As it was, it was solid and made of cotton. The childer preferred silk. The trousers were grey linen, but he still had no shoes. Djordji stuffed himself into the trousers which hugged his firm bottom snugly and showed off his legs nicely and tried to force his wayward anatomy to behave. As an added precaution, he wore the button up shirt out so that it covered his crotch. He rolled the sleeves up and left the top two buttons on the shirt open. He didn't know why, but he fished the Waffediyok out and let it dangle freely about his chest. He had toyed with the idea of taking it off before he climbed into the shower, but something stopped him and as he wrapped his had around it to remove it; an unspeakable fear gripped his heart and he decided to leave the talisman around his neck. Now it gleamed in the low light of the room and he felt reassured. He had questions. Maybe there were answers to be had in court. It was time to start being the Ravnos he knew he was. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to pay Torch back for his "kindness" would present itself. Brushing out his still damp, raven locks, the childer softly padded out of his room and downstairs toward court.((OCC
Djordji said Dec 05, 2011
ICC))Djordji stepped lightly down the stairs of the grand old manse. He noted the ancient paintings along the walls and stopped briefly to admire the paintings of the presumably long dead former owners of the plantation. There were gentlemen and ladies fair dressed in Victorian finery as well as pictures of precocious youths dressed in Little Lord Fauntleroy-like styles with fair-haired spaniels reclining restfully at their feet. His eyes were drawn to one picture of a dark-haired man in what appeared to be charcoal grey Victorian finery. The shirt appeared to be of a light grey material with an ivory waistcoat of which the painter had done an excellent job in capturing the detail of. To Djordji's kindred senses, the workmanship was quite exquisite and the needlework held hints of gold thread among the ivory cloth which appeared to be an expensive brocade. The only other hint of color was a scarlet cravat at the man's throat that was held in place by a large diamond brooch and his eyes were a deep indigo and Djordji felt himself being pulled into them as though the painting itself were threatening to consume him. The man also sported a full beard and mustache that was neatly trimmed. Djordji could have sworn he heard a husky male voice call his name with the barest hint of a whisper, "Djordji..
The childer felt a sudden wave of dizziness overcome him and he blinked his eyes a few times before he found himself lying down in the grass and staring up into the light of the noonday sun. He instantly knew that something wasn't right and in a panic, he tried to run and find shelter. He scrambled under a tree and he looked over his skin and to his amazement he saw that his skin had not started to burn and peel in the sun's rays. Was this another dream, he asked himself? Instantly, he felt a hand around his throat and he turned around painfully to see the eyes and penny-colored hair of the tormentor of his previous dream staring at him from the space of just inches. And suddenly, Djordji's memory came flooding back. "Get the hell off of me, Amadeus! I don't belong to you anymore! I'm free of you! Let me go!" The childer struggled all to no avail, as Amadeus tightened his grip. He hissed, "Djordji, I will always find you and not even Regnhild can save you from me. I own you! I MADE you! You are mine, dear childer! You might have your Waffediyok, but you can't concentrate on it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week." The childer struggled to get his hands around the talisman that hung from his neck. He felt the bones in his neck starting to snap. If he didn't somehow fight Amadeus off soon, he knew he would meet the final death even in this dream like state. He felt himself start to lose consciousness when his sharp hearing picked up the twang of an arrow being released from a bow. He heard Amadeus howl in pain as his maker's hand came away from his throat and Djordji collapsed to his knees. He looked up in time to see the man from the painting in the stairwell standing over him in medieval type garb and he had the longbow already knocked with another arrow ready to let loose. In a deep baritone he hissed, "Still haunting your childer, Amadeus? Leave this one alone. He has a destiny all his own free from you." At this warning, Amadeus bared his fangs and hissed at the stranger. He then pointed to Djordji and hissed, "The talisman and your mother's people can't save you forever, my childer. I WILL FIND YOU!!!" And with that scream of outrage, Amadeus vanished like mist in the morning sun. The tall and dark stranger turned his attentions to Djordji. The childer noticed that his hair flowed in sable waves down his back with hints of curl in it and although his clothes were different, his eyes were not deceiving him and it was the man from the stairwell painting as he had first surmised. The man held a hand out to help him up. Djordji looked at his erstwhile savior and as the man smiled at him, he caught a glimpse of fang. The man was another kindred such as he and Amadeus were. He spoke in his deep baritone, "Be at peace, my prince, Djordji. Not all kindred wish you harm as Amadeus does. Indeed, if there was one wish I would have for you, is that you would remember us when you awoke. Maybe it is the protection of your mother and the Waffediyok that blocks your memory. I do wish, my prince, that you could remember me; I who love you and will always protect you. However, fear not. Just as Amadeus seeks to find you out in real life, so I seek you out in real life to protect you, my prince. When you wake, you doubtless will not remember this dream, but know this, I will always strive my best to find and protect you." With that, the dark-haired kindred leaned in and kissed Djordji lightly on the lips. He then put the Waffediyok in Djorji's hand as he turned to leave. As he walked away, the dream world began to fade away like mist. Djordji cried after him, "Please, tell me your name!" The faint sound came back to him, "I am known, my prince, as Rhade."
The childer came back to consciousness and found himself sitting slumped on the floor. He looked at the painting of the gentleman and his memory grasped at fleeting remnants of a dream he could not remember. "Damn," he wondered to himself, "How much damage did Torch do to me?" He stood up and continued down to court. ((OCC
regnhild said Dec 06, 2011
As the childer continued down the hallway, muttering to himself about Torch. Liulfr stepped from the alcove where he was watching the final traces of the night fade away into the oncoming dawn, shutting the titanium shutters and locking them into place, he had overheard the childer stumble and waited to see what would happen, as the kinder looked to be in a blissful daydream, not wishing to intrude. Liulfr watched as the childer face showed an internal struggle then one of confusion set in before he awaken, causing Liulfr to quickly duck once again into the darkened alcove.
Once the childer had awakened and cursed his run in with the little hothead of the court only then to stumble away still cursing did Liulfr step out of hiding.
Going over to the painting on the wall, Liuflr chuckled deeply. He straightened the painting though it was already so, and he spoke to the personage within.."Ah, Rhade, hyvä mies, oletko ollut jopa teidän temppuja uudelleen, vanha poika?
childer on edelleen heikko, ja te olette leikkii hänen unelmansa. Sanastokeskus TSK, Tiedät
paremmin. Tiedät, että hän on turvassa täällä, vaikka pojat ovat poikia testosteroni taistella meneillään. Prinssi tai no prinssi, hän on oppia ja kasvaa. Myönnän, hän olisi voinut valita eri ystävällisempi oppia. Mutta valitettavasti hän on
itsepäinen yksi ja koska hän teki valintansa. Joten, ota hieman pidättyvyyttä, jos tahdot." Once the words were uttered, a golden glow lit up Liulfr's eyes only to again recede. The paintings visage changed as well, a look of acceptance and respect appeared briefly as its own eyes lit with a lighter golden glow that lasted mere seconds, only to recede once again into the original expression that it had held. Luilfr again chuckled, patted the portrait and walked toward Raziel's room.
regnhild said Dec 07, 2011
As Djordji continued in his musings, he wandered about different corridors, unsure of which way to go. Before long he was several corridors away from the portrait that had so intrigued him and unbeknownst to him about to walk into a war zone. Or so he thought...
A rather large and heavy antique Egyptian open backed chair with winged lions flew by his head and hit the Grecian pillars that ran the length of this corridor. Before he was able to turn in the direction from whence it came, a large ivory carving came flying behind, and after it a rather large jar. A scream is heard, one of aggression and anger, in a language that Djordji had not heard before, but he was sure what was being said was not asking after the pleasantries of the day. Then, before he could breathe, a small black clad figure with flowing red hair stormed past him, brushing him aside like he was a feather and he stumbled again to fall onto his bum, but not without Djordji noting that there were some bruising and her hair was slightly shorter. As the figure stormed down the corridor, Alec trailed behind, seeing Djordji on the floor, he extended his hand, offering to assist in Djordji's regaining his footing.
Djordji said 5 days ago
ICC)) Djordji was thoroughly convinced that Torch wanted him dead. At the very least he figured Torch wanted his head as a trophy on the wall to hang somewhere in the hall where court was held and he grimly amused himself with the thought of Torch making sure he was caught in some grotesquely amusing rictus of horror so that the other embraced would be sure to get a good laugh. In Djordji's view, Torch was preparing himself for some kind of power play. Then again, he mused, it was probably just his imagination. He had to admit to himself, he had rather been acting like a spoiled prince since he arrived. He honestly didn't think, however, that he could be blamed for that; he was a Ravnos. However, even as the thought crossed his undead brain, he felt it was a cop-out and that it had started to sound like a tailor-made mantra for him. "I did say that I was going to start thinking more instead of acting on impulse all the time. Maybe it was those impulses which led to this." He closed his eyes and brought his hands up to his face. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands and palms. Try as he might, the brands would not disappear as much as he might will for them to. As long as he didn't consciously think about them, he didn't start to freak out. But he replayed the events in his mind. He was branded, and then he teleported in a shower of golden-white orbs of light into the middle of the Wilmington River. Then, once he had managed to slog his way out of the river and back onto the dry land of the cemetery, he had proceeded to show Torch his hands and wrists, he had ended up being tossed across the cemetery (OK, vice influence notwithstanding) into a tomb and nearly killed before being teleported over hill and over dale before he found himself back in the manse. He'd show Lord Liulfr his hands and then promptly fell asleep and had weird dreams. Only he couldn't remember them. There was only one name he COULD remember and that was because he had woken screaming it...Amadeus. Who or what was Amadeus? And why would he dream about this person? He tried to make a mental connection to the name only to draw a complete blank. He thought that there was someone else involved...someone he thought he knew intimately and all he could remember there was long raven hair that held the odd curl. I have got to stop watching the late late show on the idiot box he mused. He then remembered the way he had woken up on the staircase. Who was to say that there wasn't some lingering effect from Torch's attack that was affecting him. He was suddenly nervous. Absently, his hand closed on the Waffediyok and it was as if he was noticing it properly for the first time. He noticed the platinum in the talisman seemed to complement and counterpoint the gold emblems on his hands. What was it about this token from his mother? Had Torch secretly desired it? He didn't understand how because he had not worn it openly until after his shower just moments ago. He decided tact was called for. It wouldn't do to have an outburst in court. He clearly remembered that Regnhild looked as if she were ready to drop from the exertion of looking after Raziel. He just wanted to make his report to the Prince and see what drama unfolded from there. And while he was at it, maybe, just maybe, he could get some answers about the emblems on his wrists and his cousin Alec. He was suddenly very high spirited. Yes, he thought, things are definitely looking up.
It was at that moment that the large chair crashed into the pillar nearest him. The childer ducked to avoid being clobbered stone cold by the piece of errant furniture and landed squarely on his butt. The chair was followed by a carving that appeared rather ornate and a jar that appeared made from pure alabaster. He looked up in time to see...Atara, was it? Yes, Atara...to see Atara storm past in a rage. She seemed a little worse for wear and wondered who had had a go at her. He noticed hot on her heels was his own wayward cousin who stopped to offer him a hand up from his prone position on the floor. Accepting to proffered hand, Djordji hauled himself back to his feet and said, "Ah. I'm glad to see the face of someone who doesn't want me dead. You don't want me dead, do you?" He didn't give Alec a chance to respond before he said, "Looks like someone had a go at Atara. What's up that caused all the ruckus that i was nearly a party to? Anyway, I'm glad I ran into you. You know that they sent me to find you. They want me to report back on why you seemed to have disappeared off of everyone's radar. So, what's the story with you and the red-headed fury? They want you to come home, you know and I'll be honest; I can't say I blame them. I've only been in Savannah for about 72 hours and in that time, I've been under more threat than in the entire one hundred and sixty-three years since my embrace. Does she have some hold on you because the rumor is that you've blood-bonded yourself to her. I was heading down to court to explain the events of the previous evening and I'm lost in this massive house. How about escorting me down to court and filling me in on the way? And for what it's worth, I'm happy to see you again." Djordji indicated with a wave for Alec to lead the way. the other kindred seem to hesitate and Djordji quipped, "If her mood is anything like what I stumbled upon, then I think a little alone time is in order. Come, let's take this opportunity to talk." The duo proceeded in the direction of court. ((OCC
Atara_Durden said about 5 hours ago
ICC))As she continued down the hallway, She couldn't help but notice the resounding silence other than her heels clicking on the floor. What happened to shuffling of feet behind her, the ones that always followed her every where she went? She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to see Alec conversing with that jester of a childer. Already pissed off to the point where she wanted to break the neck of the slimly little idiot named Torch. He BURNED her HAIR for the love of thats holy. "ALEC! Just where do you think you are going?" She stared at Alec waiting for his response. Seeing that it was getting her no where she said in an extemely low tone barely above a whisper sent telepathically, "If you make me late for Court, I'll lash you 500 times." With that she'd flipped her hair and returned to stomping down the corridor on the way to Court, arriving at the doors, she hesitated. How would she handle Torch with her dignity intact? She couldn't blantly ignore him but then agian she shouldn't be expected to speak to him. Pushing those thoughts aside, still unsure how shed handle Torch she'd shove the doors open that sperated her and Court. Holding her head sturdy and high, She walked into court, taking her seat debating on slitting Torch's throat right there in court or not, the ungrateful git. Saving his sorry butt was a mistake. Deciding that she will not save his sorry self agian. Seething, she sat there etching a peice of limestone she picked up on the way out of her room.))OCC
[Last edited Dec 14, 2011 02:15:05]