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Etched In Stone

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Etched In Stone last won the day on May 20 2019

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About Etched In Stone

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  • Birthday 12/15/1991

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    Depths of the Underworld
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    Writer, Poet, Musician, Composer, Student

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  1. A wide derisive grin stretched from his one side of the angular maw to the other scorning the demon for his exposure, he went all out in his expectancy of doing so. From a comforted posture against the softness of the cabin couch his feet placed to the ground and he straightened erect. Knowing Xartia found solace in what he failed to truly kept the vampire from sprawling onto him then, and sucking his body dry to a prune. Or even better, siring the man then he'd understand true loyalty and obedience. To've assume the Dark One soul-heartedly kneeled upon a lower pedestal than the Cambion in blood was preposterous even after these many years. However, he hadn't been entirely misleading. His resin encased rose meant a millennium of knowledge to it's drinker and sealed a portion of his vampiric lifeforce into several phylacteries one of which went entrusted to the hands of the Pendragon. The two brothering each other through ... What was it now a decade? The rose provided Xartia with an advantage against the Pureblood if he'd only known how to properly utilize his sources, but there had to be reason he'd notion the Count conspire against him. A series of applause came to follow striking itself rhythmically, one-two-three producing the gentle thump that resonated the space of the room. While mislead no one the Magician had a way to play with words brazenly, deserving full merit from an audience. Desiring to settle an score when the man left him little room to speak was foolish. No further secrets held behind that unnaturally affected grin returning his lack of affection abroad compelling his sudden rage to a very dark place he'd shut off from his sentiment. The sea air wafted his nose despite possessing an undead nature he still was quite effected by the tingling similarly as related to an allergy. Xartia produced a wildly shout and that's when it struck him, that he had failed to realize the highspeed trajectory of the dragon soaring itself down to the ship's deck. Having been literally froze in response to imagine just what the cause of such creature could be possibly heading in their direction, or proving at the moment he cared less and was confident in his own survival to handle the situation as seen fit. Something great submerged itself into the depths of the water beneath and caused the ship to rock unsteadily against collisional waves. By the time the thuds hit the deck and a crash landing was made evident Leinhart hadn't moved an inch and instead, remained fixed at the surroundings accompanying his sight with an index finger from his right in his mouth he sat motionless gnawing at a claw. If somebody found a way to end his undead misery he welcomed them and did nothing. Once the sudden interrupting audibleness became at ease and the others of the company showed face concerned with weapon clenched alarmed and cautioned, the lithe woman entering through the cabin doors illustrated their hypothesis's were incorrect. Oddly than ever, she went looking directly at the Daywalker tired and shivering cold from her travels to the ship. However it was certain that she had not been frightened by his presence before her. As she shoved him the letter he looked upon it's fine addressing when it instantly struck him she was searching instead for the Cambion warlord. Looking up to find her face and address the mistake, sighing he noted she was already walking out the door. "Just when my hopes were high. How could they've mistaken us? You're far hideous, than I. It's for you." A flick of the wrist as he cocked his hand slightly tilting it was all the envelope needed to find it's trajectory soaring towards the other side of the cabin for Xartia and into his lap if he couldn't catch. The Nosferatu gripped to return his hands over the arcs of the armrest, almost awaiting to hear the news behind the letter intruding with his goldenrod eyes from afar. All the while curious to know what exactly landed in the sea certain that Arthur was headed to find out and inform the lot of his discovery. @Twitterpated@Artificer@Malintzin@Voldemort
  2. The audibleness of a branch under extreme tension right before it went crack was enough evidence Martis had been discovered and that something was now closer than he detected in his near immaculate predatory ability to hunt and track prey or enemies to whichever category they'd fall. Given that the she-orc placed herself directly above him, well that only altered his tactic briefly …. Yet, how sure was she that her plan remained in tact once she revealed her position? His neck craned eeriely towards the incoming woman's land. Carmine eyes found themselves lodged, glowering furiously at the glowing eyes of the embodied darkness through nightvision. Despite possessing minute magical powers over darkness, a feat gained from drinking the Master's blood if one thing was certain it was that the Dhampir knew how to escape from some trouble and fast! The complexities of his thought in the blink of an eye, preparing limbs his body bent forward to jolt from the scene, only one notion struck his currently confused state. An ambush? Luna's guide led him right to it, but why would she? In the half of second he'd have to react betrayed by such inconvenience he felt the second approach a tad late to party. As for the she-orc now soaring downwards with her gauntleted uppercut (?) she'd find the sheer speed of the Dhampir's hasty scurry a blinding seventy-miles per hour, was nigh impossible to ensnare. Kicking his loafers from the ground in the same motion he turned his neck, Martis was out of there fast as a moving blur and without a trace of him ever being present! In a single, fluid motion would he route his grounded escape to the coverage of shrubs to further asses the situation about ten meters from his placement in concealment (somewhere off to the corner of the orc’s right). Careless if his tracks were covered or not, in fact he urged she had the guts and glory to come seek him out then and there if she could sniff out his fouled mint stench. However, from all over the mysterious forest he’d play the ear to a cacophony of voices to be heard throughout and reverberating. As if the Dhampir merged with the eternal darkness and the creatures of night were with him speaking. Soon did the two realize that the echoing voice was in fact a single man, only the half-blood's and that it wasn't coming from the area itself, but rather in the she-orc's mind did he speak. She'd go searching for him, scanning the vicinity and whatnot, but to no avail would she find the strangest of voice in her head that taunted her. Whomever the lady was in her company however, was possible she witnessed what occurred in the midst and she’d hear his remark as he scolded. Cursing himself lowly for not snatching her up during his escape. "You almost had me there, if it weren't for all the noise made. What a clumsy Orc, you are ."
  3. The Imperial City though what had seemed to steady from it’s growing dynasty calmed to a quiet nation of residence for Genesaris. However, it’s people were at a constant strive to ascend their martial prowess year long. After Tsukimi events for the recruitment of students seeking to learn the ways of the Rising Sun each Moon was given briefings to complete once their basic three-months finished as further hands-on-training, (various scrolls containing missions assigned by the Ookami) grouped into packs of three according skill/individual talents supervised by a Senior Full Moon or Ookami elite. Mikazuki, Ozu, and Akira were one anticipated of greatness as they’d become a trio essentially working as a unit to achieve excellence. Students fresh from the Dojo received the lowest D-level consisting of odd jobs such as farming, babysitting, assisting the elderly in Jigoku. The highest ranking mission was the S-level assigned strictly to the elite students and other Ookami clansmen to carry out VIP assassination's for the Province, to transporting highly classified documents across the region to and fro proper ranking officials. New Moon disciples were challenged with understanding the concepts of their own true self, awakening their Aura through meditation, while eagerly learning to control their unique life energies over the span of three months. In the first and only known exercise of this phase, students were to place their hands in front of their chest and imagine forming a ball between them every day for five hours a day for sixty consecutive days. This exercise was intended to develop the ability to feel one's own aura, to grasp an awareness of the life energy circulating their internal meridian systems, essentially produced by their one mass and focus. Then, only truly able to sense and perceive the leakage from these pressure points escaping the body and feel it's presence without being aware of it's existence. Students should have been somewhat capable of maintaining their auras temporarily both defensively and offensive with basic Kuji-in handseals in their instructed lessons. Time had pass a course of maybe a month since the unexpected forfeit in the Feast of Blades tournament. The Soke's word inviting Arthur to the Dojo for a rematch waited to see itself be answered. While having finally touched down home soils again Kenshi dedicated to his own practices in his temple the last few weeks, secluding himself from the rest of the world whilst training, consisting of push-ups and situps of almost five thousand daily. Meditation for the mind of the spiritual warrior was a countless ritual in his unwavering state of Mushin for the mind, soul and body. Having the eye of a heart and the mind of a god. No mindness meant one was not fixed or occupied by thought or emotion, thus allowing oneself to be open to everything. When the eye of the heart is blinded by egoism, vanity, jealousy, money and ignorance, one's true path can never be found. There is an absence of discursive thought and judgment, free to act and react towards an opponent without hesitation or disturbance from such thoughts. At this point, a person relies not on what they think should be the next move, but what is their trained natural reaction (or instinct) or what is felt intuitively. It is not a state of relaxed, near-sleepfulness, however. The mind could be said to be working at a very high speed, but with no intention, plan or direction. It was this philosophy instilled by teachers of the ascetic mountains that drove Hinode no Gakko and it's pupils to the peak of their fighting abilities. Exercising day in and out to sustain one's mushin was key to every Swordslayer, Shugenja, every Wolf of Jigoku. Kenshi honed this mentality, his entire life's working at a time ago was solely to improve, to become the greatest, to reach nirvana in his pilgrimage. However, this was a life long journey for the Ookami hanyo. Kenshi stood smaller in build an ectomorphic up-close and even with age of nearly 200 odd years, his countenance remained very youthful. Stepping towards the sixty New Moons scheduled to gather in the grassy fields, the peachy sun kissed the earth radiantly across the Imperial City. Without the company of artic wolves this new day, donning himself in the carmine red and black Akatsukizikiyo summer robes of the Okami. The blind wolf gazed briefly at the twenty groups before his presence gauging their auras from the distance for the slightest of change and growth from those whom improved at the top of their class, while others were taking baby steps towards progression. Raven tendrils cascaded down the back in abundance with all the shorter hairs falling across the face as bangs. In particular, his dilated bereft of sight orbs concentrated on the adolescent pups his nephew and younger Cousin in company with the hopeful Akira. Deciphering from nearing into the plains with his acute sense of smell, the familiar approach of each one of their auras willingly expressive as they'd no clue he was observing them they remained composed and steady in their reading. As he’d come to discover the progresses of their individual training on a separate occasion from the last three months the confidence amongst them, how they've matured and disciplined he'd perceive it with his blindsight. Stopping short before them gracing them with his excellence, his lips parted kindly and his oriental eyes squinted. "You've all grown quite adept over the course of your training, haven't you? Furthermore, seems that your aura has much to express." @Twitterpated@Hani
  4. Hey, my fellow role players. I’m not going for lengthy introductions unless you ask, specifically. However, lol. Those of you curious to read this now, I am seeking a few story-teller npcs for the current thread with my Nosferatu. Him and his bride from a distant past attended the Purple Penguin and won’t be not long until the party is ruined and the club notices it’s infested with a pair of bloodsucking undead. Another incident it would seem instead of plaguing New Tia, it was accurate to say that this was a random occurrence out of the spark of desire and greed from a totally seperate Vampire coven.. A massacre and conversion of innocent people is said to occur, something I’ve worked towards in a separate thread for Martial Town. I’m cool enough to be almost down with anything you’re willing to put together for the sake of RP and fun. Whether you play a worker, bartender, hell perhaps off-duty cop, security. Slight opposition, Whatever. If you’re willing to turn and wish to continue a role in the Choisel house of vampires using this opportunity as a platform, I’m also down for that. Thanks for volunteering to help!
  5. The air felt intoxicated as the city-goers of the nightclub filled their bellies with drink and booze, laughter set the mood of neon dancers swaying to the cyberpunk and pop indulging in their personal enjoyments the establishment provided. Drugs were a big thing here in this city, yet even heavier in the rampant nightclub. Seemed prior to the Choisel's arrival, the city thrived in own chaos, disorder; this observation made His task, less dreading to accommodate. In fact, His goals seemed clear up to this point, purging the once mega-city. The only question that arise was when? And the answer happened to be now, beginning on this eve of a full lunar. The Daywalker and his two lovely ladies stopped suddenly from their walk through the night. A business poster illuminated in it's bright, gayish hues above the curb of the sidewalk. This was the one, reading the Purple Penguin. From the exterior walls of the building, even a half-block away was evident how alive the place was voices boomed all over, these people brought life not only to the business, but to Leinhart and his Countess Tatia whom could not refuse such a flavorful visit that happened to be the climax of their sojourn. A tiny glimpse of the Vampire's contempt exposed itself in the most tainted manner, wide-eyed and thirsted the faintest of tempting urges immediately, rushing through his undead spirit. The dapper gentleman seemed further compelled by his own mental visualization of a near foreseeable future, stained in the blood of his victims within. Human life forces painted a carmine hue across the scene of the nightclub as dismembered corpses absorbed of their souls in the barbarous carnage. At the bar he sat nonchalantly betwixt his Queen and her servant clueless of the massacre that occurred before her very innocent eyes. The murderer stood in momentary silence scanning the surroundings of his new fond den in a stool with a satisfactory fill from a severed arm that Yulie held to his maw and angled as so to drink the fluids that rolled down the appendage to savor with every drop squelched. As for the Matriarch prized with an opposing limb from the poor soul which they drank, from what felt like an eternity transitioning to an undead - she was still very much weakened from her near two centuries of dormancy. This was, a buffet for her whilst she worked her new body and became adjusted to her immortality. The sensation of Yulie tapping his right shoulder soon broke the stargazing enchantment, her soft words of spell snapping him out of his overwhelming desire of infliction upon those within. "As you requested, we're here now. I give you, the Purple Penguin." The liveliness from indoors was inviting, full of flavorful energy and personalities from different backgrounds each person possessing a fair share of uniqueness and individuality amongst them. That, was the Power of Blood. Blood was lives in which consuming, their prowess and knowledge was inherited. Not only through consumption orally, but as effective as it was psychically, draining victims. The bare anticipation of waiting held Leinhart's accountable enough, these were the humans last hours little did they know a true monster of night was just outside their doors. Vanishing beyond them hand-in-hand with the ladies, he stepped cowhide loafers entering the nightclub in his best behavior …. "Yes, yes … So we have, finally?" @Eternity
  6. The Genesarian Vampyre non-persuading in disbelief quartered their weapons upon given orders, hemming and detaining the Ascendants quickly whom posed little to no physical incompliance, cooperating in their deference as Choisel noble. The robed five were unhooded and seized from all visible weapons incarcerated with arms across the backs, the sun beamed along their cold undead flesh unaffectedly gifted with daywalking they did not burn into ashes. However, their true nature and blood fed eyes scolding at the oppressors. Their wrists, locking shut in heavy braces to suppress any outbursts a maddened prisoner might want to enact, they were forced to stepping in a file formation. Adequately enough without their weapons or anything their noble powers alone could have defied these four Vampyre, their leader stood firm and resolve in his stance weaponless balling up a heavy fist to wail at Bolth's ghastly spirit. The infuriated Butler now, walked his way towards the armored leader yet before any blows were thrown, an undeniable psychic intrusion sought out the fool born minds from any further inconveniences, whilst reminding those familiar of the impinging darkness His Supreme power and authority. A ripple of vampiric suppression washed over the vast distance from the Choisel stagecoach into the sub-consciousness of these Vampyre as the Patriarch observed steady-eyed in his dashing carmine red tuxedo from feet away, his hand adoringly interlocked with the lavish Queen's while these vampyre forced to submit to the immense psychic torment for their incompetence in the Bloody name of Choisel, Kronos of the Thirsty. While his compulsion over their supernatural will was unalike any other torture endured, the armored group of knights halted and immediately grasped their faces, digging nails into their temples as they tried to release the grave apprehension and madness pooled into a state of pranic insanity. These so-called noble Genesarian held not even the slightest chance against his indomitable will. "How dare you ridicule the name of my Pureblood?! Shall I gut you creatures deep by my own hands and deliver them to your ruler? Yield yourselves to me oh, worthless beings, you!" His powerful words rang through the corridors of their souls, reverberating in their infliction of uncontrollable torture, scarring their minds from further defiance. Leinhart's powers held no resistance against these lesser supernatural cringing to their limbs devoid of any urge to contest their cowering minds. Standing over there trembling bodies in the release of his dark grasp they'd be aware of what just occurred to them as the pressures they felt fill their subconsciousness was alleviated suddenly; willingly to comply with the Patriarch and accommodate his Queen's desires during their stay. "Unshackle them. I seek an audience with your Leader. Take us there, at once!" @Eternity
  7. Leinhart felt the conflicting enchantment of magic that hovered over the door suppress his entering, before being granted access into the depths of the cabin along Xartia and the woman Artamese who spawned from out of nowhere seemingly, finding herself a quiet lodge rather swiftly . The Ancient vampire took this opportunity to tell the Pendragon the cream of the crop, the sour of the patches but try to give the Cambion also some space to feel the need to open up on a subject they've may or may not have touched upon. Seemed there was a lot that the others had known already, perhaps even prior to this day in meeting and it was the blame of the good old Magician if anything was to backfire later on any personal matters the progenitor revealed. "Did you desire I go around territories enacting favors or deeds for others in exchange for service, land, or an alliance? Has this bloody world only made you weaker?" He had all the right to accuse a man who went under secrecy of hiding his identity to steal an artifact. Since bluntly honest was his given approach, the Supernatural felt proceeding statements needed just as much effort in their response from the Pendragon lord. In his seat across a tanned leather sofa Leinhart gazed around the lofty room, the Magician's talent with magic was nonetheless seemingly no sharper. Surely, there been enough quarters for the crew's personal space while maintaining decent room for public lounging and dinning. Even so, the longer he inclined himself to a staring his acute senses could perceive beyond the slightest inconsistency. His goldenrob bulbs briefly scanned the premise of the surroundings in the delight of it's hominess returning his angular countenance unto the man and commenting complacently. His hands folded together in his lap locking, he smiled cheaply brandishing a pair of toothy fangs from their crevice as he carried on his venomous words only the Pendragon knew were to be true. "Dark dominion if you had yet found out, but if my purging cannot be enough to control the World under a single order. I will be the sole reason the lands remain contaminated and fouled. You see, then will the World seek to find an antidote or a cure to end the affliction and torment endured." @Twitterpated@Voldemort@Malintzin
  8. Rupturing the silence the she-orc's tree shaking roar wasn't one of terror, danger .. It sounded triumphant strangely enough. Still whatever it was she stirred up or was challenged in, Martis had to make this quick and pick up the pace of things. She hadn't been too far from her reverberation through the trees locating the direction of her voice, the spruce man took off to a slight burst of blurring speed, a front leg jutted forth and from the ground as a rear suited behind. The scent of once living wood now charred dead in ashes wafted through the air, a tempting flush of fresh ions flooded sensations in the pale Varón’s nostrils pungent enough, he gritted his teeth and slowed his pace. The Dhampir's gaze presumed sweeping the perimeters in a wary approach left-to-right, his golden bulbs brimmed the outlining trees, stalking the very sight of surroundings again. Luna's runes illuminated the route cleared of obstruction, but he chose the latter veneering off to a dead-end. Wide eyed in flabbergast at the sight before him, he couldn't believe the truth behind his discovery never in his existence. As a Terran vampyre he has never witnessed such a creature and was thrown aback in his concluding; did the hollering woman slay the creature? His parched thirst for power yelled at him, mocking the obedience that ultimately made him weaker the less he fed, halting over the dragon at a complete stop. Calmly his hands reformed to the sides, his face grew insanely dark as his maw stretched slickly from one side to the other. An idea struck as he drew into a knee would he squat down low, the glorious reflection of light casted by his hair shed over it's mystic scales. Aware of the powers gained if he consumed the mighty beast entirely in it's dead state and without it's soul, as well as how durable it's dragon bones proved itself for the forging of weapons useful for the Coven; possibilities were endless if he could transport the massive dragon from the area. Dragon blood never absorbed or dried out in the ground, but remained in tact and in a large amount; even if the remains were no longer in place. In his knowledge of this Martis was safe to return on another day with the Dark Lord or a number of undead, which ever was preferred, but in the current moment nothing further was done. From within the Keeper's hands a small vial was produced, scooping a sample of the violet fluids into the container without any thing else to be done in the area. It glowed violently, staring at it's contents once again before quartering it away with the selcouth of flowers. Seems this trip was coming handy after all, the hard part was still underway. Up ahead no further than fifteen meters, he spotted the fallen woodland creature and a pair of shadows slightly beyond the brush of more trees. Underestimating the sisters's power greatly, he's come to comprehend in the little time of exploring, these Charmed sister's had a lot of strength whomever slain the dragon and they were a force no matter their size to reckon. Picking up on his pace again, trees and brushes behind the two travelling ahead of him rattled and if they paid close attention, they'd feel that they've been followed from the rear almost the entire time. Only thing was, the Dhampir closed the gap with each moment and that their troubles into the Dark Forest made passage for him at most without a sweat. From the distance of the unnatural forest they stood, only if they felt his nearing presence and took a gander to their hind did they see what the glowing approach of a moving silhouette; a man holding a torch light perhaps. Yet, who was this and why did he come here? What was he searching for? @Fallen Joy @Lacernella Rubra
  9. Good company had never deserted him out of all his years of knowing Xartia, the Blasphemer knew in his great vampiric intuition and experience being one of few true companions to the Cambion. That of all his so-called affiliates, the half-human Magician was if not his only friend there like white on rice. The rest filled the void of a tight-circle, or more less were for the moment. His growth throughout the community of Terrenus was popularizing, denizens of the Glen were soon to be under the carmine blood moon of the Pureblood Choisel Family. "Since I've seen you last I have stained in the blood of Choisel two cities. One forgotten with time governed by a horde of noble clansmen, the other of bright, neon lights and Research facilities. So you see in good company, I seek temporary asylum would you call it?" He held no resent as he nattered, the small conquests were all apart of his greater scheme. Peaceful coexistence was only for the time being, a temporary patch. Trouble was to come find it's way certainly knocking at the Chateau's doors. In that sense, good company of his late friend was something he'd come out seeking if it ever was needed. The odd male humanoid held no hostility, no sense of fear or evil intent about him in their brief connecting hands to the steady, honest pace of his heartbeat and lack of strain he'd project from his voice. The sense of apprehending darkness free and lift away as Leinhart glared him down only a mere moment longer. In what took only seconds to acquaint himself and Arthur vice-versa surely, the Daywalker checked for Xartia in a quick once-over glance from the cockpit to peak at the Cambion wandering towards it's cabin, they were to be sailing across the boundless sea to the Antigone Isles soon. Arthur reached himself to gather his belongings towards Xartia and in a casual waltz, Leinhart kicked his loafers forth and too followed. If it was one thing certain, steering boats was never a task in his duty as Choisel Progenitor, stuffing his hands into pockets he proceeded calmly in pace behind the Mutant to the cabin quarter. @Twitterpated @Voldemort
  10. The airship landed almost unperceivably to human senses in both comfort and quality that one could hardly note any differential in the atmospheric pressure from flight in the clouds, to the gravitational descend towards the earthy crust of the landing zone. Grand and most spacious on the indoors in regards to the Pendragon Court, occupying easily a capacity of 500 passengers the ship was an infact considerably empty with only a handful of occupants. In a few rows to the couple's rear a silent group of vampire hid their moonlit features and mesmerizing tainted red oculars under the shawl of dark robes. Sitting amongst each other forward-faced, stout duty in their unbreaking countenance these members were a mixture of Ascendant Choisel; four men and a women. As Bolthezarr called from the interior deck of the ship over intercom, the Choisel vampires were alerted and in full attention, one-by-one starting the guys they exited their seats, lifting to the walkway of the airship in single-file formation making way towards a flight of descending stairs outdoors. "Seems, it is now our time dearest to depart. I cannot wait to see what this city looks like on ground level." The male-banshee in his pinstriped black and white suite stood with pride in serving the Choisel progenitors, bowing kindly and complimenting the Queen Matriarch. His misty white eyes squinted as his ghastly lips painted a handsome smile. A strange creature, incorporeal beyond the fashions of his wears he possessed no true flesh or skin; simply a ghostly image. His soul had served the Count for many decades, yet even in his servitude the butler was contempt with his duty protecting the Lord Kronos and his Coven to no question. "You try not to cause too much trouble for our King with your allure, my Queen." The sun peaked in it's midday, soldiers in heavy armor approached from their patrol towards the airship. They'd either warrant or deny passage as Bolthezarr went off to see the matters of these patrol men; from the curtain of the couple's cabin window neither was for certain. Leinhart held Tatia's hand with his polished fingernails and lead her out with his arm outstretched for her to pass ahead, the Blood King slowly waltzed his way through the catwalk in his bloody scarlet loafers sucking teeth, sighing. Another day’s troubles perhaps. All the while admiring how tantalizing the Countess devilishly was. "Your King has not been invited to these lands, so what business is it do you come upon today?" With raised arms the vampire knights held their swords pointing erect with it's reflecting sharp metallic edge at the five Ascendants and Bolthezarr that showed himself a second too late for the introduction. Confident on either one or two things, they'd lower their guards or become vanquished into dust the longer they refused; it's whatever they preferred. Bolth gave a crap about the formalities, soon, he was rolling up his arm sleeves and balling ghost fists. The banshee was confident if the weapons weren't silver, they were useless against his incorporeal being, but what he said next was guaranteed to stand them on their toes and cause them to withdraw their arms. "My lord has every right to seek any land he deserves, he is a Choisel and you will submit yourself or pay the consequence. You see out of Four remaining Pureblood families, the Choisel thrive because of His purity. As you are aware of vampiric law I am sure, you have no jurisdiction over what he sees fit. This land is rightfully his as it is your own lord." @Eternity
  11. A full summary: [ACT I] Tatia and Leinhart sojourned themselves to the southwest of Terrenus to Martial Town in what was thought a simple vacation. Leinhart owed his mistress the occasion, not only but his time away from the other members at the Chateau. Word from the Terran vampyre the Chateau's Keeper Martis, this city was thriving in the Black Market and illegal trade industry. Doctor Nash finally produced him the Elixir there seemed no better other place than to first establish himself as King of the Damned and pump his taint of lifeforce into the poor communities. To get a piece of the underworld dwellings and soak feet in his growing reputation amongst this not so far from home terrain. In the early night of a full moon they've made lodge in a rundown three-story apartment building away from the police and military of the ghettos - wasn't the best accommodations to claim for a Patriarch and his Queen, but its crime infested area was discrete and secluded for their vampiric biddings. Running into a college couple in their tour of the city streets, Yuli and Jameson, the Purebloods seized opportunity to hypnotize the love birds instead of killing the residents useful in their information on Martial Town. Some hours later at the apartment after settling, the male captive committed suicide to end his own misery, hanging himself. That wouldn't stop the festivities for the rest of the eve, however. Changing into new clothes with their human slave, they headed towards the party on this weekend …. The Purple Penguin to stir up some Bloody calamity. A minor summary: In an unexpected visit to the fond Neon City reunited Choisel lovers settle in temporary residence there, terrorizing citizens with an unnatural desire of bloodlust Leinhart and the Queen Matriarch slowly taint the city. Consequences and Opportunities: Aid the MTPD in investigating the recent outbreak of vampire attacks and put an end to their infectious plague before it spreads throughout the city as did an epidemic in the not so distant past of Old Tia. Perhaps this doing is work of the Dolos? Join the one responsible for these abominations and play a key role in catastrophizing the City with a plague of undead.
  12. "Well, well, well … Aren't you ladies quite extravagant, tonight?" He glanced over Tatia first with a peaked fondness like none before, his tongue almost fell drooling from his agape maw. Yuli on the other hand in her off-white knee-high skirt and red heels popping a stick of bubble gum, the way his Matriarch glamour her was transforming; their choice of human couldn't been better for the occasion. For the crowd of Purple Penguin she'd provide the cover for the Choisel along them to catch luring eyes of men and women who could not resist the temptations from a Devil. A black choker collar and an silver heart-shape necklace adorned her petite torso. The Vampire's impressions were dearly full of excitement, however, he felt less inclined to showboating exquisites and class in drawing unwanted neighbors glided towards the girl to loosening the bun, locks falling scantily down her pale flesh and shoulders. He'd remove the shades from his own Frenchman's visage and place them upon her further as he felt intrigued to enhance. Blonde luscious hair parted from her head accenting the scarlet lipstick she pursed her lips upon, and her marble brown eyes that concealed a shady innocence behind the purple tinted glasses. The duo stepped further from the corridor's darkness and in the poorly lit openness of the living room. Bestowing a painted black nail across the edge of Yuli's cheek bone in a unnaturally fathering manner, her kissed once in Choisel's vampiric blessing upon the forehead then, waltzed over to his Queen's right side in-between her and the city girl, picking up her hand meshing together with his own. "I don't think I've ever told you how much of a fan I was of your Shirley Temple curls?" Tatia had grace and beauty beyond normal human comprehension, her vampiric blessings gave her the powers of agelessness and even more, she was a breathtaking creature of human kind naturally before she had reborn in the dark ways of the Undead. Her obsidian feathery dress was another piece from her endless Boudoir of lavish tailors and fashioners acquired throughout their tours of the Europeans. Her form in the tight dress curved over her slim thickness stopping shortly beneath the rump and her porcelain figurines of thighs and legs. The dapper gentleman took to her side like her King, her dark knight in shinning armor, but this night was importantly than ever to her as an incarnate being she'd fell in love with almost 800 years before this time here on the New World of Valucre. This was to mark in the humanity of their civilizations, the Choisel lord and his Matriarch's first romantic-esque outing of untypical relations upon this world on the Cyberpunk terrain. He owed that much on this evenfall and lunar night, ultimately to ensure she of most delighted herself on their sojourn from the Chateau. "Shall we head out now, my lady?" It was a question he did not wait for her to respond with her in his hand as he continued between both female escorted on each of his side, he led through the living room and towards the old creaky front door of the apartment. Leinhart let the women out of the apartment, extending grace of his hands and shut it closed entering the corridor before exiting the rundown ruins of the building into the night path of their destination. @Eternity
  13. Kenshi's free rosary left hand the instant the slashing of his unconventional Iiajutsu seemed thwarted by the poleaxe's upper shaft (if not mistaken) he became far more aware of the immediate surroundings in the contact of his opponent's defense. His fingers found themselves binding near the upper portion that pressed against his forearm, crossing the air shoving the single grip downward against Arthur's sturdiness. The Practitioner's legs swept from their grounded formation, shifting to the left this time as his hips swung naturally, flowing rhythmically with the rest of his body that danced this battle. In his control and redirection of not only the shaft head but Kenshi's own body weight, Arthur placed his own backfoot to lean away to adjust the distance again, but the poleaxe remained in temporarily tact. By removing his targeted limb from being contacted the foreigner also freed the sword hand and the maneuverability he held over it. In a right-cross motion of his overhanded grip on the Katana bending the elbow and the forearm, contorting the handle of the blade in way so the hilt and his thumb aligned mid-way down at his chest, the Ha edge on his sword erected in a slash perpendicular to the arm to halt with it's tip pressed against the Mage's neck upon the jugular. His blind gaze and wolfish features for the first time took a good look at the man the Swordslayer's mouth opened and he spoke clearly in his intents. If Arthur was an honorable folk, than he'd take the Soke's words with heed, grant passage and without stabbing him in the back first. If some body had to die today in order for that to occur, what choice would the hanyo really have? "Prove me your skills outside of this tournament, Mage man. Celebrate this short victory, however because today you have won. Find me in Jigoku, if you’ve any doubts." Torqueing the shaft head haphazardly in a leftward the opposite direction, releasing his grip of the poleaxe he placed his feet to balance in front staring into Arthur's eyes, he'd take a bow and push off in the direction of the arena doors. Whether the audience felt as if they wasted their funds on such a weak spectacle of a match, which, no doubt some would shew and shout. To the spiritual warrior however, none of that mattered as he head to his quarter in tranquil nonchalant. @Voldemort
  14. I mean Kenshi could back off from the attack and just literally walk off. In the ceremony thread, he’d basically ended up there after the bout.
  15. Her guided words traced him to an selcouth bed of orange and white flowers Martis had never once witnessed before. As a Terrenus vampyre he was seldom impressed for lack of better words. Out of all life that grew here in the Dark Forest, he'd produce a wide interested grin at these flowers the only sight to capture amongst this supernatural obscurity. The Dhampir plucked a few of by their purple and green stalks as he produced a small jar from the confinements of his oversized navy blue tailcoat. Popping open the glass jar's cap with a twist of his hand, he stuffed them into the cylindrical container. Luna's phantasm words stuck with him like glue, simple instructions they were. Of course this venture was for the name of Choisel. A good deed from the Keeper it'd seem in the Patriarch's return. As he passed the first checkpoint further into the caligo he stepped a heavy boot into a splattering pile of dark ichor. His eyes narrowed further and he halted observing the area around him. Luna was right, he spotted clearings, more than ever. The scent of burning soot and flesh accompanied his vampiric senses deeper in the corridors of the Dark Forest. He pushed from the ground again until the sight of the moss-covered rock was plain in view radiating with a mystic carmine hue. Propping a foot against the surface he exposed his wrist to his front fangs and sunk them deep a stream of viscous crimson fluid began seeping from the wound. He tilted his wrist so the flowing lifeforces rolled from his hand towards the covered rock. The blood began to course itself into segmented archways up the small boulder, glowing luminously in the effect of the witch's blood magic. Running it's course up the bold rock and glowing a miraculous blinding light appeared almost suddenly, shielding his eyes from the irritant with his arms. Luna remerged from the grandiose array of magic, he listened and nodded carrying himself beyond the pitch black darkness. "You have my attention. You can be certain that there is nothing I fear, dear lady. But thank you, once again." @Fallen Joy @Lacernella Rubra
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