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Better Than Gore

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  1. He had heard that dialect before; however, he couldn’t recall when or where for that matter, or even what language they were speaking. They seemed to only speak it whenever the subject was sensitive, in this case, it was probably regarding just how revealing his trousers were. He had nothing to be embarrassed about, the grin on his face made that evident. There were children running amuck though, so perhaps concealment was his best course of action. But they had split in the time it took him to bathe. “You don’t have to spare me,” He, of course, was referring to their native tongue. “Although it does make me wonder what else you can do with your tongues.” He too apparently spoke a different language; whereas, it didn’t sound nearly as elegant as their own, a language nonetheless. It was Orcish. He apparently felt much better after his bath. First, he was talking to cows and now he was shamelessly flirting with the woman that rescued him and her cousin for that matter. A hearty chuckle managed to follow his cheesy pickup line, but they couldn’t have possibly understood him, or did they? Ioreth spoke more about helping him regain his memory but all of that went out the window when she mentioned speaking to a man about a horse. Instantly his eyes lit up and his grin immensely grew in size. “You had me at horse,” Another chuckle followed and then a firm nod. “Aye, I’ll accompany you Ioreth. Will you be joining us gorge---Mythandriel?” There he goes again. Something told him she had more important things to attend to, but the hope of her tagging along outweighed said tasks. @KittyvonCupcake @Witches Brew
  2. "Lovely." A heavy sigh complimented his sarcastic tone. One didn't have to necessarily have a memory to understand that a first impression was important, and here he was... ripe. That word didn't quite do his current aroma justice, the sheer fact that Ioreth and Mythandriel were in close proximity was surprising, at least they fortunate enough not to be downwind. He carried himself differently now that he was in the presence of others. Which was difficult, as there were so many new things he wished to interact with, especially the horse. It could have probably held a better conversation than the cow. Ioreth was kind enough to oblige his request, deviating from their path wouldn't have been the nicest thing to do, so he resisted the urge. But damn was it hard. Then there were little creatures surrounding Ioreth; of course, he knew they were children, but he could hardly recall ever seeing one previously. “She’s obsessed with the one about the talking horse.” He knew it. Cows suck, horses are where the good conversations are at. "He's smelly," That was a fact, but that didn't keep him from sticking his tongue out at the little girl in response. Children were brave, that's for sure. Or at least this particular one was. All this talk of horses intrigued him, it certainly made him regret not approaching the one they saw earlier. “Many blessings. God smiles upon you and all that.” "Thank you," And with that, he b-lined straight for the bathing quarters, clothes in hand, and he made sure not to get them anywhere near his current attire. It took some time but after a while, he emerged a new man. The clothing they provided him with must've been tailored to fit a human's frame, it fit, but it quite tight. The shirt barely confined the sheer mass that was the Orc, his gray skin exposed and rippled with muscle that was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes. We won't even go into detail about the pants... they didn't leave anything to the imagination and we'll leave it at that. His raven black hair was loosely tied up into a topknot. "Now what?" He smiled. @Witches Brew @KittyvonCupcake
  3. “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t kiss and tell, eh?” He winked. Ioreth spoke of Coth and those who inhabited it; an occasional "I see," was slipped in as her explanation continued, it wasn’t until they ventured into the town itself that he started noticing the small details. “I hope so. Not knowing your own name is rather disappointing.” He added. He was used to people staring; most went their entire lives without crossing paths with an Orc, let alone a half breed, he was truly a sight to behold. “Hm?” A woman approached, Ioreth must have been expecting her, or maybe people who lived here were just that friendly. “They’re called cows, apparently. Don’t trust them, they’re scandalous creatures.” Then she introduced herself and asked him for his name. “Good question. I’ll tell you as soon as I know.” He laughed. “Before we come across any more gorgeous women, can I please change my clothes, bathe perhaps?” @KittyvonCupcake @Witches Brew
  4. "Not at all." He frowned. If he couldn't remember his own name, what made her think he knew anything about his surroundings, granted, Ioreth was just trying to help and he took notice of it. Not often did a truly thoughtful person surface; if that was her intent. Taking a moment to consider her proposal, he inevitably nodded in agreement and chimed in. "Deal." It was the least he could do, Ioreth did save him from having a pointless conversation with a creature she referred to as a cow. Not to mention his current attire was absolutely disgusting, covered in vomit, blood, and even mud. If there were more people like her in this so-called Coth, first impressions certainly mattered. "You're funny, I like you." He chuckled once more, slowing his pace so that they could exchange whatever it was Ioreth was carrying. Once in his possession, he would let it sway along his side. "Do me a favor, keep my conversation with the cow between us, aye?" His gaze found the ground, obviously embarrassed. @KittyvonCupcake
  5. "That would explain a lot!" A hearty chuckle followed. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is..." He paused. "Moo?" --- "Patience is a virtue." --- "Moo!" --- "I apologize, somehow my name has escaped me." Apparently, that little bump had done a tad bit more damage than originally suspected, granted, it had mostly been disregarded save for the seemingly never subsiding pain. His gaze sought Ioreth and gave her a once over. "I guess you could say that." Finally acknowledging her question; he then excused himself from his newfound bovine comrade with a wave and began walking further down the path, assuming Ioreth would follow out of genuine curiosity/concern. "Where exactly are we?" Her answer would likely do him no good, but it was worth a shot. @KittyvonCupcake
  6. “W-where am I?” Waking up with no recollection of the events that occurred prior may have been a nightly ritual for some--which normally resulted in waking up in a stranger’s bed and not a forest, a throbbing headache much like the one he had was also pretty standard, but typically the pain was tolerable. Unfortunately for him, this wasn’t caused by an alcohol-induced coma, instead, the pain stemmed from a large knot on the crown of his head. Which stung when touched, but that didn't discourage him from inspecting it, inhaling sharply as his hand sought the tenderness. Then his attention was drawn to what appeared to be a pool of vomit just adjacent to his position, it also stained his attire, albeit mostly dried. Upon closer inspection a fair amount of blood had also clung to the fabric, unbeknownst to him, it was also caked onto a majority of his facial structure, more specifically under his nose. Signs of a severe concussion, although, that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Confused, lost, injured and judging by the sounds bellowing from his stomach, hungry, he mustered enough strength to pick himself up off the ground and began trekking through the seemingly endless foliage. He was a massive man, the epitome of a barbarian at least in silhouette, with an ashened complexion. He stood at an impressive height of 6’6” and his frame bolstered a whopping 254lb, built athletically and aesthetically pleasing. His hair was shoulder length and just as black as the night sky, as were his eyes, which stared almost unblinkingly at his surroundings. His grayish pigmentation, sloping forehead, jutting jaw, prominent teeth, and towering build made his orcish heritage plain to see. His clothes also depicted his role amongst society--tattered, torn, plain and now stained with more than one bodily fluid, it was quite obvious that he hadn’t served much of a purpose wherever he hailed from. Despite his predicament he seemed to be absolutely fascinated by everything he came across, studying each fine detail of the environment up to the last blade of grass and pinecone as if it had been the first time encountering them. Or maybe he just really appreciated nature, either was up for debate. Before too long he made his way through a clearing and onto what appeared to be a trail of sorts, judging by how unsettled the soil was, it was a frequented segment of the woods. Following said path was an obvious decision and was quite rewarding once a structure came into view, civilization meant food and shelter, which certainly restored a bit of faith, however, what he stumbled upon next was far too interesting to pass up. “Greetings fellow traveler!” --- “Moo?” --- “Are there people up there?” --- “Mooooo!” --- “Uh, uhm, right. Thanks!”
  7. Ryker practically made a b-line straight for his office; hardly giving anyone the time of day, save for a casual nod of acknowledgment. His staff knew when he wasn’t in the greatest of moods, typically they kept their distance, most of them stayed away regardless. Only those close to him were comfortable enough to approach him or even exchange glances when his night was going particularly bad. This was one of those times. Upon entering his office the door was promptly slammed behind him, which likely went unnoticed due to the sheer volume of music within the establishment. Making his way over to his desk, a remote was snatched up and his own music began to play, drowning out the noise. Tossing it aside once he took a seat, he immediately went to work on the rather large pile of sheen, scraping a decent amount closer with a nearby razorblade, only to chop at it desperately and sort it into multiple thin lines. “You’re a fool.” In one swift motion, a line was consumed--his snorting utensil would be repeatedly tapped atop the desk until it was positioned in the opposite nostril, railing another and sighing with relief. “Like that’s going to make it all go away. Can’t reverse time, you dumb motherfucker.” In fact, it would do the exact opposite, his mind raced and his imagination ran wild. Replaying the situation over and over again until he stood up to pace. Speaking incoherently to himself as he walked back and forth behind his desk. Occasionally shaking his head and swinging at nothing in particular. “How can I make the best of this situation?” Trick question. Surely there was something he could do, maybe apologize? Explain himself further? Ryker laid everything out on the table already, going into further detail would probably just make her think even less of him. “God damn it.” Finishing off his last line, his razorblade would be put to use once more, scraping an even larger pile toward himself, chopping and adjusting it accordingly. @Sigil Warden
  8. Laughter? That certainly wasn't the reaction he had hoped for, or expected for that matter, needless to say, the Crime Boss was not pleased. His eyebrow fell flat and a blank emotionless stare greeted her response. "I see." Women, especially those who worked for him practically threw themselves at him on a day to day basis, any woman in their position likely would have. Ryker promised financial security and even protection. Nobody in Blairville dared cross him, hell, nobody in all of Terrenus dared. Unity was different and that was exactly why he had been attracted to her in the first place. Now what? Ryker saw this situation ending up in his favor and it went the exact opposite. There was likely nothing he could say in order to change her decision. Embarrassment wasn't a familiar feeling, Ryker exuded confidence and practically wiped his ass with hundred dollar bills, yet there he was, flabbergasted as a red blush found his pale features. His hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end as that embarrassment quickly took a turn for the worst. Anger overwhelmed him as his jaw clenched tightly, as did his fists, knuckles popped and cracked sickeningly. Giving her a firm nod, he quickly turned himself around and began to exit the room. "Feel free to stop by my office if you have any questions, enjoy the rest of your night." Escaped him just as he rounded the corner. "Everything o---" --- "Clean this shit up.. now." --- "Right away, Boss." Once out of clear sight of both Unity and his other employees, Ryker gazed down at his hands, the Parasite had begun to unravel itself. Ribboning his fists in a blackened carapace, only to retreat upon controlling his emotions. "Easy girl.. not tonight.." @Sigil Warden
  9. Ryker’s vision had adapted and became quite adequate in dim lighting throughout his time working for and managing his own establishment; granted, it wasn’t superhuman in any way shape or form, so tracking Unity’s abrupt maneuver bordered impossible. If it hadn’t been for the paint, he may not have caught her performance whatsoever, let alone able to pinpoint where she had intended on landing. Had the situation been a little less heated, he may have given her a round of applause, instead, an eyebrow raise sufficed. Which disappeared just as quickly as it had surfaced--Ryker’s attention was drawn back to the customer, who would soon be removed from his chair and thrown through the door by his tee shirt. Dusting off his hands as if he had just taken out the garbage, Unity questioned his actions. “Do you want the truth, or do you want me to lie?” Rhetorical question. Ryker wouldn’t even give her a moment to consider answering before he began to explain himself. Turning around to face the confused and likely angry reddened gaze from across the room. “Trust me when I say this, Unity. I’m normally not the jealous type and I apologize that this is the way you had to find out, but ever since you left your interview I can’t keep my mind off of you. I don’t know what it is, or what you did, but your face, voice, fuck even your smile is permanently burned into my thoughts.” There it was--whatever it was, whether he had just confessed his infatuation with the dancer or simply a crush, it was there in the open. What she would do with his confession was still up in the air. “If I have made you uncomfortable and unwilling to continue working for me, I understand. I will pay you your earnings from the rest of the week and we can part our separate ways.” Was thrown in; as far as Unity could tell, he was being sincere, despite his rash behavior and very apparent elevated mindstate. @Sigil Warden
  10. "Why?" Gorgeous women surrounded Ryker on a daily basis; not once had he grown any sort of attachment to them, let alone experienced jealousy over something as simple as one of them doing what they were paid to do, especially one that he had met once before. This was a whole new experience for him, to say the very least. All of these thoughts were cycling in the man's head as he paced back and forth in front of his desk, trying to find some sort of conclusion as to why they clouded his judgment in the first place. When nothing came to mind he resulted to the only coping mechanism that he knew... violence. Ryker was very familiar with that, after all, one didn’t climb their way through the ranks without it, violence was a key ingredient to success in his line of work. Hitting the slopes once more, Ryker exited his office and made his way through the club, shoving dancers and patrons alike out of the way. It was showtime. A goon was stationed just outside the entryway to the private rooms, whom of which took immediate notice to his oncoming and fuming boss. Part of him wanted to try and stop Ryker from entering, but that Devil on his shoulder whispered thoughts of encouraging his bosses short temper. He had to make a decision and fast, Ryker was almost there. Positioning himself in front of the entrance, a hand rose to greet his boss but slowly fell back down to his side. “Just don’t kill the guy, boss. We don’t need any more unnecessary attention.” --- “Move.” With that, the large bouncer side-stepped out of the way and permitted Ryker entry. One by one he would begin kicking in the doors to the private booths, each boot was followed by the sound of a struggle and a scream from the dancer inside. Each was taken by surprise, as the music within each room was just loud enough to mask the absolute chaos inhabiting the rooms prior. Making his way through the booths he would inevitably come across the one he had been searching for, with a swift kick access was granted, and there she was. “Give the girl your money and get the fuck out.” @Sigil Warden
  11. As Unity’s performance began, those seated around the stage began throwing and stacking money in and around the platform, the currency ranged from papered bills to that of alien and foreign coinage. Those stacking soon realized that their entertainer wasn’t as touchy-feely as those who graced the stage previously, they resulted in shoving it forward while simultaneously forking over more, cheering with excitement as her act intensified. A competition for Unity’s attention soon unfolded amongst the spectators; bribing her with more and more money in exchange for her affection. Once her dance concluded, a couple of them rushed and fought their way to where she would exit, cash in hand, hoping to steal her away for a more private endeavor. “Unity! How much for a dan---fuck off, I was here first!” It appeared her first recital was a big hit. Fatal Seduction’s patrons weren’t the only ones that thoroughly enjoyed Unity’s stage show--Ryker too took notice, certainly not in a way a member of management should have. Hypnotized by her erotic sway, a familiar bulge became very apparent down the leg of his trousers, leaning toward the bar as he intently studied her. “You need me to take care of that for you, boss?” A giggle escaped the bartender as she took notice of his arousal. “That won’t be necessary.” --- ”Awh.” She whined with disappointment. Ryker’s longing facial expression quickly twisted into one of jealousy as several men approached Unity with handfuls of cash. Pushing off of the bar, he’d pour himself another shot and down it before retreating to his office. Something told him he would need to hit the slopes once more before his interruption could commence. @Sigil Warden
  12. Knock, knock, knock. "Boss, she's here." --- "Ah, right on time." Ryker chimed in, right before railing another line. What's one more for the road, right? Taking a moment to collect himself, he tapped his desk and promptly exited his office, closing the door behind him. Moving toward the bar, he took a position behind it, assisting the bartender with the line of customers before pouring himself a shot of top-shelf whiskey. Shooting it before his gaze scanned the Club's inhabitants, not stopping until it fell upon his newest employee. Flashing a tooth filled grin, his silver clad canines noticeably gleaming as the lights of the establishment graced his smile. Unity would be observed from the bar, like most of his newly hired dancers were. This wasn't a case of special treatment, despite what Unity thought had she have noticed his onlooking. "Who's the new girl, boss?" --- "Unity," --- "She's a looker, that's for sure." --- "You don't say." Both the bartender and Ryker shared a chuckle. Ryker's smile hadn't gone anywhere since his initial sighting of the woman. Once Unity had reached the DJ, he lethargically removed his headset from the closest ear so that he could hear her request. Nodding in acknowledgment he then motioned in the bars general direction, making her aware of the fact that she was being observed. "Pressure is on, sweetheart. Break a leg." And then took the vinyl she propositioned, removing the one currently playing and starting her own. "Making her way to the stage, give it up for Unity!" Was spoke into the microphone and the crowd of degenerate men and women all whistled and clapped in anticipation. @Sigil Warden
  13. Fatal Seduction: Scene 2. There was something special about tonight--although, Ryker couldn’t necessarily put his finger on it. Fatal Seduction was busy, per usual, men from all over Blairville flocked with cash in hand. It seemed like a typical night, other than the fact that Ryker had been spending an unusual amount of time at the establishment, which had a majority of his staff on edge. All of the women on call showed up on time and even went out of their way to greet him. That’s when he knew something was off, or maybe it was just another case of brown-nosing. Whatever the case may have been, Ryker was just as much on edge as they were, their behavior only egged him on. He was even sober, or at least looked as if he had been. Perhaps that was the key--Ryker hadn’t indulged in his vice for the greater part of the evening and he didn’t have his head on straight. “Inform me upon her arrival.” -- “Will do, boss.” With that, he excused himself from the floor and made his way back into his office to powder his nose. Ryker was dressed to impress tonight, sporting a slim fitting tailored suit, black on black, adorned with a crimson tie. Concealed within his suit jacket was a holster containing a semi-automatic 9mm handgun, chambered and loaded with hollow points. Which was unlike him; normally he trusted and relied on his security detail to handle any situation that arose, but there was no such thing as being too safe. Taking a seat behind his desk, someone on staff was kind enough to arrange his paraphernalia, which made him smile. Taking hold of a nearby razor blade, Ryker began chopping at a rather large pile, from there he sifted through some of it to form a straight line and indulged with a satisfied sigh. “Any minute now.” @Sigil Warden
  14. "Understandable," In all fairness, Ryker didn't even know his own number, although, after going through so many burner phones, memorizing the associated number became more of a hassle than anything. What in the fuck is that thing?! Never had he seen a device such as the one Unity retrieved, whereas technology was constantly evolving, normally his tech was the most advanced on the market. Material items normally followed wealth. Quite honestly it immediately rose a red flag, but he quickly shook that paranoia out of his subconscious and instead smiled up at the security camera stationed on the ceiling. Nothing in this establishment went unseen. "Ah, thank you." Without much hesitation, Ryker retrieved his own smart device and dialed in the number, promptly saving it to his contacts. "For dances, yes. Your customer will pay you upfront for those, the remainder is divided out amongst the staff before close. Your attire is completely up to you, just please keep the audience in mind." Who was he kidding? Those men would throw money at practically anything if they had a decent rack. "Unless you have any more questions for me, you're free to go, sweetheart." Ryker added in at the second. Unity was good in his book. "Expect a call within the next couple of days. Welcome to the Team." @Sigil Warden
  15. Unity’s explanation hadn’t been too far fetched; a lot of the women Ryker hired had given a similar answer. Women in general typically received attention from the opposite sex, whether that was unwanted or vise versa, it simply came with the territory. Unity’s appearance certainly added to that factor, although in her case it had likely been the latter. Her answer on how she heard about Fatal Seduction made him frown a tad--Ryker prided himself on the women he hired on, granted, she was stunning, but as were all the women he employed. Her source for said information may have been intoxicated at the time and may even have been trying to butter her up, but still, it was disappointing to hear, to say the least. “I see. When are you available to start?” Ryker added in after a moment of brewing on the answers she provided. At most he tried to give her the impression that he was mulling over his decision. But in reality, she was hired the very moment he had become aroused, but that probably came as no surprise. This business was all about that exact thing and without it, his employees simply wouldn’t make any money. “Also, I noticed you didn’t list a mobile number on your application, any particular reason?” It may have been listed, perhaps he overlooked it when he skimmed the paperwork, as he did with most of his applicants. He didn’t really care about their work history, references, or really even their experience. All that mattered was that they could impress him. If they could get him going, God only knew what they were capable of out on that floor. “All in all, we’re pretty solid though. No pun intended. We’ll see how you do your first week and if it’s not your thing, there are plenty of other opportunities we could explore throughout my companies.” You heard him correctly. Companies. Ryker had several, all equally as illegal and frowned upon as the rest. But if Unity wanted to stay within Fatal Seduction, she could serve, bartend, hell she could even work payroll if she really wanted to. But none of those mentioned would make her anywhere close to as much as she could make as a dancer. “More importantly, do you have any questions for me?” @Sigil Warden
  16. Unity’s newfound employer had thankfully been too preoccupied to notice her sudden discomfort; otherwise, his suspicion would have quickly taken a turn for the worst and paranoia would have bled into his conscience. With that being said, Ryker’s cool demeanor underwent quite the transformation as the stimulant began affecting his nervous system, forcing him into a manic state. Sniffling ever so often, pacing back and forth, a hand sought his mouth as if keep himself from coughing. Ryker’s real motive was to hide his facial expression as the drip began, grimacing and even almost gagging--whereas the drip was highly anticipated and even refreshing, on occasion the taste was foul, even for him. At this point Ryker’s high was at its peak, his pupils were dilated, clamminess introduced itself to his palms and his heart rate was through the roof. Yet his capability to focus was unmatched--Unity was unfortunate enough to catch the brunt of an intense leer. “What made you pursue this particular line of work?” Ryker assumed he would receive one of two answers--money or attention, it could have been a combination of the two. Those were the most common answers he had been given throughout his time in management; although they never truly scratched the surface of the abundance of underlying issues that most of his employees experienced on a day to day basis, whether that was rampant drug use, daddy issues, the list was seemingly endless. Ryker never really made it a point to solve said issues, but he certainly wasn’t naive to them either. “How did you hear about my club?” Small talk be damned, this was turning out to be more of an interrogation than anything. In Ryker’s line of work, one could never be too careful. This would only become even more evident as his fists began to clench, knuckles cracked and popped each time they balled up. @Sigil Warden
  17. "Stay still." Unity's current position was perfect--not only did it provide an amazing view, it also provided somewhat of a flat surface. Digging around inside of his pocket momentarily, a miniature vial was retrieved, said vial was nearly full to the brim with a powdery white substance. Removing the cap with a flick of his thumb, he'd hover it steadily inches above her closest breast. Tapping it lightly and slowly but surely trickling the powder in as straight of a line as possible. Which given the circumstances would turn out better than initially predicted. Adjusting his posture, Ryker would leave forward and snort the substance off of her chest via plugging his adjacent nostril and following the line. What he missed would be swept up by a finger and rubbed vigorously across his gum line. Sighing with relief and leaning back in his chair exaggeratedly--promptly recapping the container and stuffing it back from whence it came. "My apologies, sweetheart. I probably should've asked for your permission beforehand, but I couldn't turn down such a welcoming invitation." Ryker added in as a mischievous grin crept upon his face. He then took hold of her waist, lifting her up quite easily and setting her atop his desk. Scooting his chair backwards to provide more room, he stood abruptly and stretched. What remained of his arousal was still clearly visible--as the material of his tightly fitted pants clung around it. "Ah," Briefly looking about the room, Ryker retrieved a coat, which was black in color and had fur lining the interior. "Here, put this on." Tossing the article of clothing in her general direction before deciding to join her atop his desk. Leaning against it and positioning himself adjacent from her. "The job is yours if you want it, Unity. But there's still a few semantics we have to sort out." @Sigil Warden
  18. Interesting. A lapdance was the follow-up to a stage performance--at least for a patron, ideally, a performer reeled them in after letting their imagination run wild for a song or two. Ryker’s women made a living off of desperation and loneliness; targeting those who craved their attention the most, showering those who had the deepest pocket with affection. A majority of their income came from their time on stage due to one simple factor--competition. Men were particularly jealous of one another when a woman was involved, even more so when said women were stark naked. At the end of every night, the accumulated money was divided out equally amongst those scheduled. Ryker also received a percentage which was then reinvested into the club itself. Jealousy led to spite--spite led to a private dance and on occasion a much more worthwhile proposition. That money wasn’t included in the pot. As the boss, he had no other option but to encourage his entourage to profit from lust, and needless to say Unity’s forward-thinking was duly noted. Unity was chasing the paper; just like any other hard working individual, a part of him respected that, whereas the other portion was having a hard time focusing on the task at hand. Ryker’s main objective quickly became a goal of resisting his primal urge to partake and indulge in the beautiful specimen within his reach. ”Mmm,” A light groan managed to slip out as his gaze lingered--appreciating one feature at a time. Ryker’s left hand sought her rear only to hesitantly stop just before making contact, in this situation it may have worked out in his favor, however, coming off as too touchy-feely may not have been the right move. His hand hovered only momentarily before retreating from whence it came, only to grab at and adjust a rather noticeable bulge growing alongside his pant leg. Ryker couldn’t help but grin as the song came to an unfortunate end. “Impressive. But I’m definitely going to need a better view,” With that being said another song started up and he situated himself once more--getting comfortable and spacing his footing that way Unity had more room to work with. @Sigil Warden
  19. Whenever an interview was scheduled it was penciled in a week or two out. Women in this line of work typically had more than one opportunity elsewhere. Which is exactly why a contract was implemented in the hiring process. Those who chose Fatal Seduction as their home away from home were quite content with their decision. Unity on the other hand--she agreed to an interview on the spot. Which may have raised a red flag for some. That hadn't kept Ryker from arranging their meet and greet. "Right on time," Early even. Unity had already made an impression. Time management was an important asset in an employee. "Give me just a moment to familiarize myself with your application," Ryker had gone over it quite extensively prior to calling--now that she was present he could make sure everything added up. Ever so often his gaze darted between the parchment and his newfound guest, making a mental note of every fine detail, and inevitably placing it atop his desk once satisfied. "Alright. Let's see what you got." Simple as that, granted, their interview would be far more small talk-y after the fact, as long as Ryker found her demonstration sufficient. Cue the music. Click. Music boomed from the sound system accompanying Ryker's office. As it began, he reclined in his chair and kicked his feet up onto his desk. Motioning to the pole stationed in the middle of the room with an anticipating smirk. @Sigil Warden
  20. Ryker was an entrepreneur; unlike a majority of those who shared his line of work, he invested a majority of his income in other lucrative markets. Most of which consisted of small businesses. Doing so allowed him to avoid the peering eyes of the man, via laundering his illegal profits through “legitimate” assets. All of which was carefully and thoroughly documented. Occasionally he carelessly threw his money around, whether that was on luxurious accessories, exotic vehicles, or out of spite. Tonight was one of those occasions. Ryker had finally taken a vacation, entrusting one of his many goons to oversee production and distribution of his enterprise, for the time being, only to give another his undivided attention. This venture dealt in another vice of his--women. “Fatal Seduction” is what the sign read, vibrantly glowing just above the main entrance, with an enormous man stationed just in front of it. This one didn’t sport a formal lanyard like the rest of Ryker’s law-abiding employees. Instead, a polo shirt, khakis and dress shoes adorned his appearance. He also sported a pair of sunglasses, albeit pointless at the time of day this particular establishment bustled, they did prove to be somewhat intimidating. Which were reflective and aviator in design. Several more men just like him also kept a watchful eye inside. Upon entry, the layout of the building was exactly what one would come to expect a Gentleman’s Club to resemble. Multiple stages spread throughout, a decently sized bar, multiple booth styled tables, and of course a DJ podium equipped with a microphone. Every two the three songs, the women on stage would rotate and the DJ would announce the new dancers and what stage they would be at. Desperate men of all shapes and sizes threw their money at them, some more so hesitantly, while the more experienced patron cleverly placed folded bills on themselves and stacked their singles atop one another only to be swept greedily onto the stage by the entertainers. At this very moment, Ryker was going over an application for employment he had just received, ensuring everything applicable was properly filled out. If everything checked out, the candidate would undergo an interview, which consisted of a demonstration of their skill set and of course a brief questionnaire on why they would be a good addition to the team. “What’s your stage name?” A name had to catchy. It had to have a certain ring to it. If it didn’t catch his attention, why would it catch the attention of his customers?
  21. Static echoed from a two-way radio. "Ralph, the boss is expecting someone, let us know when they arrive." --- "Understood, Corey." Ralph was a money motivated man and recent prospect, due to sudden and aggressive expansion he was hired on as a patrolman. His sole task was monitoring the block and alerting staff of any suspicious traffic. Corey was the acting doorman, stationed behind a gated fence lined with razor wire, his job description was far simpler than Ralph's, yet mind-numbingly painful. All he did was wait for a customer, identify them via codeword and permit them entrance into the facility. All with the press of a button. Doing so opened the gate, which promptly closed upon entry. Said facility was a two-story building, complete with a basement, and resembled that of a simple establishment. A neon sign flickered above the front entrance that read, "Albrecht's Pristine Dry-cleaning". Standing just beyond the entryway was a brute of a man known only as Paul, or so the lanyard hanging from his slab of a neck claimed. Positioned and aligned just above that was a hyphenated "APDC" in a bolded block font. If someone paid close enough attention, they would identify a noticeable bulge posted on his hip. Which was that of a concealed firearm. His job was that of an usher of sorts, Paul escorted guests to their destination and made sure they didn't get lost in the process. Which loosely translated into keeping any inquisitive behavior to an absolute minimum. At first glance, the establishment appeared to be exactly what the sign out front proclaimed. Inside, employees of many shapes and sizes could be seen bustling about. Loading and unloading clothing by the hamper full into large machinery. Each of them wore a lanyard identical to Paul's own, which displayed their supposed name and company logo. Doors were sporadically placed throughout the hallway leading into the main operation room, attached to the wall adjacent to their handles was an electronic contraption of sorts, black in color. Employees used these to gain entry into the assorted rooms via scanning their work badge. Conveniently placed just above the doors were cameras, which moved from left to right and vice-versa in three-second intervals, relaying video surveillance of the facility to presumably a security room somewhere in the facility. Paul's route never changed; leading his guests through the laundry room, around a corner that lead into another lengthy corridor, at the end was a door labeled "Employees Only". Like the others, this door also had a camera, however, the badge scanner was replaced with that of an intercom. Bulky and metallic with a rather large red button positioned in the center just below the microphone/speaker system. "How many?" --- A voice always answers when the button is pressed, which Paul answered accordingly each time, with a buzz the door opens and one customer is permitted entry at a time. On the opposite side, they are greeted by two men equal of stature to Paul, their lanyard jokingly reads "Thing 1 & Thing 2". Thing 1 is responsible for acquiring the customer's money and running it through a state of the art electronic counter, assuming it adds up, Thing 2 is responsible for handing over their purchase. Which was a vacuum sealed bag of varying size, neatly folded clothes was all that was visible through the transparent material. What they truly purchased was cleverly hidden somewhere within the clothing. Each time the door opened, the pungent smell of petrol wafted into the corridor, which only became that much more evident within the room itself. Sitting at a desk was a man fitted in a tailored suit, black in color, adorning a matching vest and crimson colored skinny tie. His sleeves were precisely rolled up just after the elbows, tattoos of varying color and design were on display, stretching from his hands up onto his shoulders. His hair was the exact opposite of his fancy attire, ruffled, unkempt and brown in color, as were his eyes. Reddened and dilated, bags laid beneath them as if he had been up for several days. He too wore a lanyard that read "Albrecht", beneath that "Boss Man" was stylized in an intricate font. Stationed across his desk was a sword, atop the blade itself was a white powder formed into a thick straight line, which had a unique sheen. Some found it comparable to that of fish scales. Within his hand was a cylinder-shaped tube, placing it just passed his left nostril, he bent down and forward. Using his opposite hand to apply pressure to his right nostril, with an exaggerated snort the powder was inhaled and a heavy sigh of relief escaped him. @Voldemort
  22. For months they toiled; hunting and gathering food for the upcoming winter, for the first snowfall meant the season had ended. Through trial and error, they came to the conclusion that their prey did the exact same. Certainly, there had been a select few animals that hadn't followed this ritual, but the weather made it seemingly impossible for them to productively track. Snow blanketed the forest more often than not and covered whatever tracks had been left. It was a fool's errand and sometimes cost them the lives of good hunters, whether that was to the wrath of mother nature, a rival tribe, or worse the very creatures they aimed to hunt. Each family was held to a certain standard based on the capabilities of their kinfolk to contribute food for the tribe, that food was then rationed out to every family equally to survive the upcoming frigidness of winter. If a family hadn't met said standard, they were cast out and forced to fend for themselves until the season passed. An unfortunate family lost a Father to an opposing tribe during a raid attempt, leaving behind a beautiful wife and an overly eager daughter. On a night much like this, that daughter set off on a noble cause, sneaking out in the middle of the night in an attempt to pick up the slack and save both herself and her Mother from starvation. She was naive; but never left her Father's side, she watched him like a hawk. Studied him. Mimicked him. Over the years she had become quite adept at spearfishing, archery, and the most sought-after skill of all. Tracking. With spear in hand, she trenched through the snow and bared the cold to the best of her ability. Her burning determination inevitably paid off, as she came across the biggest paw prints she had ever seen. Fresh too, as the details had yet to be masked by the snow. From her Father's knowledge, she identified them as that of a bear, but they were far too large to be any species of bear that roamed her woods. Judging by the size, this kill would yield enough food to feed not only her family but any family that shared their fate. Following the tracks, she soon realized that they were gradually getting smaller, only to become a footprint much like her own. Granted larger, but definitely of human nature. There was no evidence of a kill, no blood, certainly no signs of a struggle imprinted in the snow. Puzzled she trekked onward, stopping only once she reached what appeared to be an encampment. A fire roared and heat licked at her face. "H-hello?" Her voice was muffled by the crackling of the fire. Then came a roar. A roar so ferocious and powerful that the fire itself was smothered by it. Fire whisked away into nothingness, leaving smoke billowing from charred logs. Fight or flight instinctively kicked in. Run. But it was far too late, the beast was upon her. A monster, something one only saw in their nightmares charged her. Forcing her to back peddle and fall into the snow. Raising her spear defensively as she did so, hoping to impale the creature as it mauled her. Wishful thinking at its finest. The creatures massive paw swatted the spear away with ease, as the other carved into her chest. It loomed over her, panting heavily, seemingly pausing from its onslaught. She took this opportunity to flee, rolling onto her stomach only to crawl helplessly. Then again. It swatted her, cleaving through her fur and hide jacket, ripping across the flesh on her back. An agonizing scream bellowed from the little girl, the adrenaline and shock from the initial encounter had worn off, as her consciousness swiftly began to fade. "I'm s-sorry M-Mama.." Fade to black. That very next morning, Constans stumbled upon her. Face down in the snow, blood coating the fresh powder, yet there were no wounds to rectify the shed. Her clothing tattered from the assault, upon further inspection the wounds had mended and scarred. Distinctive claw markings on both her back and chest. Barely coherent, the little girl's hair and face had accumulated frost from the bitter cold. The now doused firepit ignited with a bright green flame, melting away the snow that had gathered atop it and radiating outward with a pulse of unknown intent. Without a second thought, Constans swooped her up and laid her across his shoulder, carrying her back from whence he came.
  23. "She wasn't lying," Needless to say; Nyra was baffled, more so that sole purpose of this building was to house furniture. Or so it appeared. The probability of that was slim to none. There was definitely something going on here and she was determined to find out. But before she could get down to business, she had to address whoever else was occupying the building. Whether they posed a threat was up in the air, Nyra certainly came prepared if that were the case. "Make yourself known!" Nyra shouted, her right hand drifted toward the hilt of her sword stationed on her left hip. Just in case the group was hostile in nature. @Sleepy Seal [I apologize for the wait, in the middle of moving into our own house, so that process has kept me occupied.]
  24. And make a call she did. Nyra's curse came with many gifts; one of which was low light vision, much like her bear counterpart, she was capable of seeing nearly twice as far as your average human during the nighttime. Staying overnight in a nearby establishment just wasn't an option. Well, it was, but not one she wanted to choose. Nyra wanted to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible, so onward she went. Using her low light vision to her advantage to reach her destination safely and efficiently. @Sleepy Seal
  25. On the first day of Cothmas; my true love gave to meeeee, five vicious floggings.

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