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zackrobbman

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About zackrobbman

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  • Gender
    With all the force of a great, typhoon! BE A MAN! Get it? No?....I'm a guy.
  • Location
    Loserville
  • Interests
    Nothing I'd fight too hard for, and that is very depressing.
  • Occupation
    Full-time Convenience store clerk!

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  1. Silas had expected some anger. It was only normal given the circumstances and the fact that he'd let his to-the-point mentality overstep some boundaries. But he couldn't just pretend that yesterday never happened. That would be even more insulting in his opinion. But she did answer his question. Just as she'd said the day before, she didn't expect him to return her feelings. She'd made that perfectly clear. But there was one thing she was wrong about. "It's not just about you being my employee Elizabeth. It's much deeper than that. I'd never assume myself too good for someone. If anything, I'd say it was the other way around. The main reason I can't return your feelings is simply because I can't. It's too dangerous. You know that I have many enemies. If I were to get involved in a relationship with you, you'd become a prime target." Silas paused for a moment. He was giving her the truth, but it wasn't the real truth. It wasn't the people after his head that she needed to worry about. It'd be the very man of her affections. "But that's not all though." sighed Silas. "I've killed people Elizabeth. Men and women both young and old. I've done this to keep secrets. I'm not a good man. The spark you saw in my eyes all those years ago was just a facade. I too thought that I was a good man back then, but things...happened to remind me of who I really am." As Silas said this, he thought back to that terrible night. He stood in a darkened room filled with dead men and women. People he'd once thought his best friends. He shook the thought away and took another long gulp of his orange juice. Elizabeth's scent was strong, but he was beginning to grow used to it. Perhaps that bottle of her blood had it's uses after-all. "I'm not bothered by you Elizabeth. In fact, you far exceed my standards for a wife. It's just that you deserve better than some murderous business man with horrible secrets. I just wanted to talk because I didn't want you thinking that I didn't care about your feelings. Everyone cares about you here. Me, Sir Redding, the other maids...we all are quite comfortable with your presence here. If you wish to leave for your own reasons, I can not in good conscience hinder you from doing so. Just know that you will be sorely missed and will always have a home here." Silas looked over to her and tried his absolute best to smile. It made him feel absolutely terrible for doing so, but he wanted Elizabeth to know that he was sincere. "Always."
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    Zack spotted Aria walking into the bar and his eyes instantly scanned the faces of the men staring at her. A few of the men whistled at her and offered her a drink, but she seemed to pay them no heed. Only a few of them had that crazy look a rapist gets before he attempts to force himself on a woman. He wasn't worried about them though. Aria was fully capable of handling herself and then some. "Hello, Zack. How are you, asides beaten bloody?" joked Aria as she flashed him a toothy grin. Zack shivered a little in response when he saw her fangs. They always gave him the willies and was some of the reason he considered not asking for her aid at times, but these were desperate times. He really wanted to hurt this lieutenant and if it meant working with a literal 'creature of the night' that could randomly consider him a good snack whenever she felt like it, he was willing to do so. A friend had once told him his vengeance issues would get him killed. Zack felt vengeance was just another way of being thorough. "Everything you needed." said Aria as she pushed the envelope towards him. "You have some rats among you, kid. Can't trust anyone these days can you?" She had a point. The client had actually been the one that notified the Bladehounds of Zack's attack. Apparently he was getting paid by the gang to lure bounty hunters into traps by writing false checks and contracts to any sucker too lazy to do reconnaissance on him before taking a job. He went into hiding when he found out that Zack had survived the setup. According to what aria had given him, he was hiding out with the Bladehounds in an abandoned building thought to be overrun by Skitters. Skitters looked just like spiders the size of small dinner plate, only they acted like piranhas. It was said that a dozen of them could strip a man down to the bone in ten seconds flat. A nest contained over a hundred of them. The building that had been sanctioned off contained dozens of nests. How they'd gotten rid of them without blowing the building to kingdom come was beyond him, but that didn't matter. Both the client and the lieutenant were in the same place and would be for the next few days. It felt as if his birthday had come early. He was certain he could bring them both in and find a way to cash in on their heads for more than what he'd been offered. "I'm sorry it took so long to get them, but I needed to be thorough." said Aria. A twisted grin slowly formed on his face as he looked through the folder and thought out numerous ways to make them suffer. "It was worth it." he said, still smiling. Yeesh. A smiling Zack is never a comforting sight and this one seems to be no different. If I had a body I'd be shivering. Looking into his eyes when he was like this was like standing at the edge the deepest hole in existence and looking straight down into the blackness. It makes you wonder what's at the bottom of the hole and you just want to step away before something terrible and insane reaches up and yanks you in. It seems that this Zack is no different than the others when it comes to sheer cruelty. "Any trouble while casing the place out?" said Zack after deciding on his plan of attack and closing the folder. "Anybody notice you that we'll have to worry about when we tag these guys?"
  3. "Would you like something Lord Grimheardt?" asked Elizabeth before sitting down and taking a sip of her coffee. Silas had no need of coffee though. His conscience and nightmares did a great job of keeping him up as it was. Also, he didn't like the taste of it. In all his years, he'd never tasted anything more bitter than the black liquid people called coffee. Even moonshine tasted better to him and it was known for being so bitter it could make a man blind before ending his life. "No, thank you." said Silas with a curt wave of his hand. He grabbed his cup of orange juice and took a sip. His body only needed blood to survive, but he'd never abscond with orange juice in his diet. It was a pure drink and it tasted absolutely delicious. Sir Redding often berated him in secret about drinking the whole bottle without giving anyone else a chance to have some. Silas would respond by saying he just couldn't help it. "How are you feeling this morning Sir?" said Elizabeth as she crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in her chair as if they casually had coffee every morning. Silas sighed internally. She'd spun the question right back at him, a sign that she was trying to either play coy, or avoid talking about her feelings. Although Silas never really talked about his feelings with anyone, he knew that it wasn't the right way. It could make one bitter and brash. That's why Silas wasn't one to beat around the bush. He'd been alive too long to have time or patience for drama. He preferred to get to the point of any matter as fast as he could, but he never neglected basic formalities and courtesies. Despite not being alive as long as he had, Elizabeth seemed to be the same way. She was no emotional school-girl. She was a woman. Her coyness at the moment was probably just retaliatory since his greeting before seemed to poke at her. "I'm existing." answered Silas simply. "Just existing. But to be honest, I was worried about how you might be feeling after yesterday's events. So..." said Silas before setting his cup down and looking at her. "If you don't mind me addressing the elephant in the room...how long have you had these feelings for me?" Silas kne how long, but he wanted to hear it from her. Her answer would ascertain whether or not she wanted to talk about it and reveal how she felt about her own feelings. Silas had learned through experience that a person's own perception of their emotions played a large part in said person's overall character. Afterall, perception is what separates the serial killers from the psychopaths, the good and the bad.
  4. When Elizabeth came running into the kitchen and began working to make some breakfast, Silas and Sir Redding had expected a greeting from her. But none came. She was in so much of a rush that she hadn't noticed the two sitting at the kitchen table, watching her rush to cook like a crazed cooking contraption. She was dressed only in her nightgown, obviously too much in a hurry to get dressed. Sir Redding had even called her name once, but she didn't seem to hear. Silas looked at his wrist watch. She wasn't late. Why was she in such a rush? Silas hoped it didn't have anything to do with her emotional state. He had enough things to feel bad about. By the time Elizabeth noticed them, she was covered in flour and an assortment of other spices. She seemed generally shocked. At least then Silas could rule out the possibility that she was ignoring him and trying to get away from him as fast as possible. After an awkward greeting where she'd nearly called Silas by his first name, she went on to explain that she thought she was running late. As she and Sir Redding spoke to one another, her eyes stayed on Silas, staring deeply into his own. Most people would shy away from his gaze seeing as his eyes were so dark that it felt as if you were staring into holes. It was actually quite frightening to most people and some accused him of being a hypnotist, using his eyes to fool young women into working at his estate. It wasn't until Sir Redding told her that it was daylight savings time that her gaze finally left Silas. He'd been staring back at her, taking note of her longing gaze. He'd almost forgotten just how pretty and vivid her eyes were, almost the exact opposite of his own. When you looked into them, you could practically feel the life radiating off of her. Silas hadn't looked into her eyes like this since the time he'd danced with her at that part he held here years ago. Even with all that had happened, he could still see hope in her eyes. He could still see love. "I am going to go write up the chore list for the girls." said Sir Redding as he got up and left the kitchen, making Silas realize just how hard he'd been staring. He looked away and scratched the back of his head as he listened to his best friends footsteps fade away. Now it was just him and her...alone with much to talk about. Another possible topic of conversation arose when Elizabeth asked Sir Redding to speak with him about her position later. What did she mean? Silas's eyes widened a little at the implications. Was she going to quit? He hoped not. Although he wouldn't stop her if she so chose to do so, he'd be greatly saddened. Having Elizabeth around just felt...right. It was like a breath of fresh air in a muggy world of his own making. He felt he didn't deserve it, but she was there fro him nonetheless. She had been for years, despite all that had happened. It was at this moment that he mustered up some courage and decided to talk to her about her feelings. He didn't want her to leave. A part of his mind reasoned that it was just because she was a once-in-a-lifetime meal to satiate his hunger, but another part of him wanted her to stay too. A part of himself he wasn't at all familiar with. He cleared his throat and calmed his nerves. "Good morning, Elizabeth." he began, figuring it was good a place to start as any. "How are you...feeling today if you don't mind me asking?"
  5. closed

    @SkylarBree Has anyone ever told you that time repeats itself? Have you ever stopped and thought about what that means? I did back in my researching days before I was ousted from reality itself and reduced to an omnipotent being trapped in the void of nonexistence. Time and quantum physics go together like ketchup on french fries so I made it a point in my career to study it. I felt that time itself was the key to opening up a rift in the dimensional fabric. So I started looking into history for abnormalities or anything I could use to further my research. After all, time is a part of nature. It's wild and unpredictable. I figured that if I studied enough, I'd find something. But I didn't. In fact, the only thing I discovered was something I'd already known. Time repeats itself. I noticed that throughout history, the same things kept happening over and over again. The only difference were the circumstances, the people, and the year. Aside from those things, nothing was different. Some would argue that this was just because humans often failed to learn from their mistakes, but I thought there was something more. What if time was infinite but the events or states within it were not? What if there was a limit on what was allowed to happen in a single timeline? What if others had to be created alongside it to account for the variations? I'd gone nearly crazy considering what it all meant, trying to produce a result from ramblings. When I discovered that other dimensions were just other timelines accounting for the variance of others, it was like a nuke had been dropped somewhere in my head. My mind exploded with concepts and theories, time being the one thing that helped rationalize it all. Back then I was thought insane. Now, as I exist outside of what can be explained, talking to myself to avoid the loss of my sanity, I almost want to laugh. I'd theorized that there was order in each timeline, constants and variables to keep each timeline going in a direction that prevented its ultimate destruction. I was right. Time does repeat itself, and as a result, so do different dimensions. I've always enjoyed watching the consonants of each dimension. It's truly fascinating to see how each one is tailored to fit the world it resides in. Take this young fellow I've been watching for instance. He's a true consonant, being nearly identical in each main timeline. I've discovered that he actually has a connection to the dimensional fabric itself, acting as a guardian of sorts to keep abnormalities at bay. Abnormalities folks like me caused when we got too curious. Whenever one pops up, some iteration pf him is there to keep it from ruining that timeline. Some times he does this directly, using abilities I'm certain were given to him to aid in his task. Other times, his presence and life alone are enough keep a timeline in check. It's as if something is watching him, guiding him to these abnormalities. It's not me though. I just watch, since that's all I can do. I'm like a narrator of sorts. THE narrator. Even now, I watch this young fellow in a world separate from yours. He's not too hard to spot once you find out what marks him as a guardian. For starters, I can physically see the connection he has to the dimensional fabric due to my proximity to the void. Secondly, his name is always the same. Zack. He even looks like the others, with that crazy look in his eyes and his disheveled hair. I can tell right off the bat that he lives a dangerous lifestyle from the sight of the bandages on his face. Like the other Zack I spend most of my time watching, he has those bandages wrapped around his arms. I've discovered that these bandages are a sign that the subject has abilities associated with the dimensional fabric. Don't ask me why, don't ask me how. All I know is that every Zack with these wraps on his arms possesses some freakish quirk that makes him especially dangerous. I wonder what this one can do? It doesn't look like he heals in his sleep if the three-day-old black eye is any indication. He has a gun hidden in his jacket and a sword sheathed at his side, so I'm assuming his strength isn't on par with the Mainstream Zack that can snap a man's spine like a twig. He's sitting at a table in the back of bar, eating silently as the other men and women around him go about their business, drinking and gambling. Like him, most of these patrons are armed. That's probably because this isn't a regular bar. It's a place mercenaries and assassins go to get paid or find work. Many men have met their ends here. Some of them died quick with a bullet blowing off the top of their head, others died slow from a stab wound to the gut. Zack always tried to remain out of sight, being as quiet an inconspicuous as he could to avoid a scene. The city of Waldin wasn't that advanced, but the swords and guns they manufactured there were lethal enough to make up for it. The city was known for it's carbon blades, sharp enough to behead a man with a single, easy, swing. You wouldn't even need to be that skilled. It was the kind of blade that did all the work for you. The same could be said about the guns. They were a newer invention here, but unlike your world where the inventor decided to make the bullets smaller and more plentiful, the inventor here decided to make the bullets slightly larger than the ones used in a '60' in Vietnam. You get hit cleanly by a bullet like that and you're going to die or lose a limb. What I was trying to get at there was that it wouldn't be wise to get into a scuffle. Especially not in a place like the one Zack was in. The bar was located in the more impoverished part of the city where a guard was as scarce as a hundred dollar bill lying on the street. If a fight were to start there, no one would make an attempt to call the police via the nearest telephone. They'd just stand back and make bets as they watched the bloodshed with all the the excitement and joy of a young, sociopathic, boy. No one knew for sure what was did with what was left of the loser's bodies, but there was a rumor that they were given to some rich scientist for a pretty penny. What he did with the bodies no one cared to know. Zack doesn't leave once he's done eating. He just sighs and sits back in his chair, wincing from a wound he'd gotten a few days ago. He'd been paid to track down and capture a local gang lieutenant, but they'd known he was coming. They'd dressed one of their own up like their lieutenant and used him as bait. Zack fell for the trap and got a nasty cut on his shoulder that was meant for his throat. If he hadn't planned an escape ahead of time just in case, he'd have been hacked to pieces like meat in a slaughterhouse. The gang that had nearly killed him were referred to as the Bladehounds. Hustlers and bullies, they were hated by everyone. It was because of them that the Guard never ventured too far into the outskirts of the city. Most of the gang consisted of Mythicals, a term used by humans to describe the wolf-like race of people that made up half the city. According to history, Mythicals used to rule the city and many others like it. In fact, they'd been at war with humans for decades before a peace treaty was made to end the relentless and cruel bloodshed. After the treaty, the two races agreed to coexist with each other. Of course this wasn't seamless. Although the official declaration of war had been abolished, hatred was still thick in the air. Hate crimes were on the rise for another few decades. Mythicals would sneak into human's homes and slit their throats. Humans would set fire to the homes of Mythicals. It was like nothing had even changed. Thankfully, the ambassadors for both the human and Mythical races got together and decided to put a cap on it. Violently. There were mainly just a few groups of people behind the hate crimes and the city decreed that the leaders of each of these groups be eliminated. The guard, consisting of both Mythicals and humans, cracked down on the civil unrest hard. In just a few short years, the hate crimes had decreased greatly. People could walk outside and go shopping without feeling like they'd have some activist's knife ran through their back from out of no-where. Things had been looking up. Until recently that is. Zack raised his head to look at the TV on the wall behind the bar counter. There was a Mythical news reporter on screen talking about the attack on Brighton Square. Some crazed sociopath had flown by in a blimp and sprayed the area with green smoke. Minutes later, every Mythical inside had mutated and gone feral, ripping any human they saw to shreds. The city reacted as quickly as they could, using large metal walls to sanction the area off. These mutated Mythicals were too dangerous to attack head on, being stronger and faster than normal. This was made clear very quickly when the Guard tried to fight them. The humans were easily overpowered and the Mythical guards that had been bitten in the scuffle mutated a mere minutes later. The only solution was to quarantine the area and decide whether or not to fill it with deadly gas. The television showed scenes of Mythicals setting up strikes to oppose this idea, saying that instead of killing these mutated mythicals outright, they should find a cure. The scientists in the city had tried to find one via many experiments on mutated Mythicals they'd managed to capture, but their efforts proved fruitless. Only one man in Waldin had the knowledge and expertise provide a cure, but he was no longer a citizen of Waldin. He was now a terrorist. The TV showed a picture of a bald man that looked to be in his sixties. It was professor Alan Doyle, the man the officials say orchestrated the attack. According to the detectives, plans of the attack were discovered in his office along with some research he'd been doing under the table. No, I don't mean literally under the table. Based on the notes they'd found, he'd been experimenting on live Mythicals in an abandoned warehouse in the west district of the city. When guards tracked the warehouse down and entered, they found over a dozen dead Mythicals that looked to be experimented on before being put down. Professor Boyle was now a wanted man and the city was offering a nice price for his capture. They'd get him to spill the beans on a cure if there was one, then he'd be publicly beheaded and burned. Unfortunately, no one knew where he was. Many mercenaries had taken the job with high hopes of retiring early with the money they'd get, but the ones that didn't turn up missing came back empty handed. Zack had considered taking the job himself, but he was still gunning for the lieutenant that had set him up to die. An old associate of his named Aria was supposed to be meeting him here to give him some new info about the lieutenants whereabouts. She'd agreed to help him with the job if he gave her a fifty-percent cut of the pay. He was reluctant at first, but he was a little peeved about the setup the Bladehounds had staged. Like all the other Zack's I've seen, he had vengeance issues. Especially when it came to criminals that went out of their way to be ***holes. Aria was a bit reckless and didn't really like anyone, but she was still a professional and generally a trustworthy person. Although they weren't exactly friends, he wouldn't have to worry too hard about her stabbing him through the back of the head when he wasn't looking so she could claim all of the pay. He just hoped that thirst of hers wouldn't get out of hand. He'd seen what she could do to a man when she was hungry.
  6. Hey man! Just leavin' this here to let'cha know I'm still here and totally understand how life can get'cha busy. Hope all is goin' well for ya over there pal.:grin:

  7. Silas didn't know why he was surprised to see Elizabeth in nothing but a towel with her wet hair draped over her shoulders. He'd known she was taking a bath and he knew she wouldn't be completely dressed, but there was literally nothing covering her but the towel wrapped around her body. This was probably the closest he'd come to seeing Elizabeth nude and the reality of the moment kept hitting him over and over like a hammer upside his head. Why did he have to fight back a blush? He'd seen countless of naked women in his lifetime and had grown rather used to it after his first two-hundred years. After that, seeing a woman naked felt no different than seeing a pig. It was just what they looked like in nature. So why did seeing Elizabeth like this make his heart beat so quick? Was it her scent? It was strong now and the heat left over from her bath only made it stronger. Was his hunger tricking him? Did he find her so attractive simply because he wanted to suck every last drop of life out of her? He didn't know the answer to this and it made him sick to the stomach. Silas couldn't even get himself to speak to her like this. Sir Redding had done all the talking, asking her every question he'd thought to ask. Silas berated himself internally for his silence, wanting to personally let Elizabeth know that he cared about her and wished to see if she was okay. Now he would only appear indifferent to her feelings. He exhaled in relief when she finally shut her door. Silas hadn't noticed that he'd been holding his breath. When had he stopped breathing? "Would you like for me to remove her blood from your chambers sir?" said Sir Redding, snapping Silas out of his thoughts. "Yes, I'd appreciate that Red." said Silas as he rubbed a hand down his tired face. He usually didn't get tired thanks to his unique physical makeup, but there was always a crash when he tried to fight his hunger. It seemed to drain him greatly, making his eyes develop bags under them in a matter of seconds. Sir Redding had explained to years ago that it was no different than the withdrawal symptoms drunks suffered from when they didn't get their fix. It was the bodies way of expressing great displeasure. His body didn't like what he said next either. "Just...could you kindly pour it out in the ravine out back? The bottle's still half full." Sir Redding nodded again and then fell silent for a bit. Silas looked at him, wondering what the pause was about. "Would you also like me to remove her from your service?" said Sir Redding, still looking at the floor. "I understand that she has an effect on you..." "No!" said Silas as he shook his head and waved his hands. "No, no that won't be necessary. Although it is true that her scent is...stronger than the average person's, I've been able to manage it since she arrived. The only reason it became an issue today was because her blood was presented to me fresh. As long as it stays IN her body and away from me, we should be fine." "Understood." nodded Sir Redding. It was hard for Silas to sleep that night. The close call with Elizabeth, her confession, the blonde heathen that had visited him that day, it all aided in making him too restless to sleep. He had been tossing and turning in bed for hours, but sleep eluded him. The fact that he didn't really need to sleep made this even more difficult. His body's healing rate was much faster than that of any regular man, making it so that any ill effects brought on by exhaustion were quickly resolved before he could notice them. The only reason he chose to sleep that night was because he felt mentally exhausted. Not pouncing on Elizabeth and killing her had taken more effort than most men could possibly imagine and had left him drained. Sleeping was also a tactic he used to calm down when he was feeling tempted. By the time he woke up, he'd have regained ownership of his own mind, or as much of it as he was going to get. Deciding it was pointless to try and get some rest with so much on his mind, he sighed and sat up out of bed before turning on his bed-side lamp. He still felt tense, his body at the ready to hunt again. He hadn't truly hunted anyone for four years. He could still remember the rush that came from it, the anticipation for the kill and his next meal. It bothered him greatly that he longed for that feeling even after all the bloodshed that had come from it. It was the reason he'd resigned as a deputy. The state would send him out to kill or capture wanted criminals and he'd enjoy every second of it. He'd thought the enjoyment was just an extra reward beside his sense of justice, but he'd been sorely mistaken. He'd deceived himself into thinking he'd had good intentions, but in reality it was all about the hunt. He eventually stopped taking jobs where the state wanted the criminal alive. He was only interested in killing. Then he stopped caring about who he'd been sent to kill, beginning to take contracts from people that weren't associated with the justice system. He'd become nothing more than another blood-thirsty mercenary looking for a reason to show his true colors. He'd kill mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, grandparents...anyone he was sent to kill. The more opposition he met, the more he enjoyed it. He could still remember the pained looks on the faces of the people who's lives he'd taken. They'd look deep into his eyes during their final moments, trying to find something within him to plead to. But there was nothing. Looking into his eyes was no different than looking into the barrel of his gun. Nothing but blackness and death looking for a reason to explode. Silas let out a shaky breath as he tried to forget those days. It had been over a hundred years and it still felt no different. Here he was trying to make a new life, live as a normal person. He didn't deserve it and he knew it. He deserved to die for the things he'd done and that didn't change no matter what kind of person he tried to become. He felt like a skeleton walking among the living. He just didn't belong here. Why did he deserve to live as he did when he didn;t allow others to? Why should he be shown mercy when he denied it to all those people? Why did he deserve Elizabeth's love? His thoughts ceased when he focused his eyes on the door to his room. It was open, but when he'd come in, he'd made sure to close it and lock it. He didn't want anyone coming into his room in case he did go to sleep. He usually had nightmares that made his feral side come out. It'd be hard to explain to one of his maids why he was growling and snarling in his sleep. Squinting in confusion, he got up and walked towards the door. He hadn't slept a wink all night. The door could only be unlocked from the inside. Someone would've had to climb the balcony to his room, sneak passed him while he was awake, and unlock the door. But that was impossible. His hearing was good enough to pick up on a mouse a mile away if he focused it. Also, there was no scent. Everyone left behind a scent. Something was wrong. Silas could feel it in his guts. The hallway outside the doorway was pitch black. He could see in the dark as well as an owl, but he couldn't see anything. Unnerved now, he began making his way to the door. His muscles were tensed, ready for a fight. But, for a change, he didn't feel like the hunter. He felt like the hunted, scared and defensive. As he got closer to the door, he began to hear a noise. Like a wet, smacking noise mixed in with tearing sounds. Silas knew that sound anywhere. He rushed out of his room and into the hall-way, peering into the darkness. The sound seemed deafening now, as if it were just down the hall. But he couldn't see a thing. Quickly, he reached a hand back into his room and grabbed a lantern he couldn't remember being there in the first place. He turned the knob on it frantically before the flame ignited inside. The lantern only lit up a few few feet in front of him, so he still couldn't see what lay at the end of the hall. So he started walking. Every step felt heavy, a feeling of dread in the air. He tried to be silent, but the floorboards creaked with every footfall. Whatever was there had to have heard him, but the noises didn't let up. He was also beginning to feel weak the closer got, as if his life was being drained from his body by the thick darkness around him. Still, he kept walking. This intruder could be a threat the others in the estate. His foot stepped in something wet and he looked down. Blood. His foot had stepped in a fresh puddle of it. He didn't know what worried him more. The fact that it was there or the fact that he couldn't smell it. Looking at the puddle, he realized that it was spreading outwards toward him. That meant the source was near, and judging by how warm it was, it was also fresh. A strong urge to turn around and run nearly overtook his mind, but he remind himself that there was no reason to be a afraid. He couldn't die, and he was very good at killing. He continued to follow the blood puddle with bated breath, still trying hard to suppress that feeling of dread and fear. He kept wondering why he couldn't smell the blood. Was it blood? It had to be. He'd seen enough of it to know what it was. There was so much of it too. Whomever it belonged to had to be long dead. This was confirmed when his light revealed what appeared to be a ravaged human head on the ground with bits and pieces of a person next to it. Silas furrowed his eyes at the sight, jumping just a little bit. The head belonged to a man he recognized, a man he hadn't seen in a very long time. "W-what?" said silas under his breath. It wasn't possible. This man had been long dead for over a hundred years. Yet here was his head, freshly ripped to pieces. The head belonged to a father he'd killed as a deputy. He was a wealthy man wanted for the orchestration of a bank robbery that got out of hand and wound up being final resting place of four innocent people. He'd known he was wanted, so he'd tried to run away to a different state. But he was already dead the moment the state notified Silas of his bounty. He'd hunted the man down to an old cottage in the neck of a forest. He'd been there with his family for weeks, thinking he'd eluded the authorities. Silas would never forget the look on the man's face when the man woke up one night to see him covered in his wife's blood and standing at the edge of his bed. In fact, as Silas looked at the man's head, he noticed that same look of horror permanently etched onto his face. This was wrong. This was all wrong. Silas stepped forward and saw the rest of the mans mutilated body. He was strewn all over the hallway as if savaged by some animal. Just like Silas had left him all those years ago. "D-Daddy?" Silas looked up to see the mans son staring down at what was left of his father's body. He couldn't have been more than twelve at the time, his expression stricken with a mix of terror and sorrow. Silas merely stood there as he watched the boy begin to sob. It was at this moment that Silas noticed how quiet it was. The wet tearing sounds had stopped at some point, and Silas knew why. "C'come on boy!" said Silas before reaching out for the kid. The boy looked at him as if noticing him there for the first time. Silas didn't wait for him reach out and grabbed the boy's arm. "I said COME ON!" Silas took off running down the hall as fast as he could, now realizing that this wasn't his house. This was the cottage. And he knew what would happen next. The blood from the father's body covered every inch of the floor as they ran, pooling out infinitely. The walls, which had been previously clean, were stained with smears and splatters of blood. Silas's breath caught when he hopped over the mother's remains that ahdn't been there when he first walked out into the hall. "Momma?" whined the boy. "KEEP RUNNING!" Silas shouted, gripping the boy's arm even tighter. He held the lamp out in front of him, the flame flickering as it were about to die. He couldn't remember the hallway being this long before. It just seemed to go on forever, making him feel claustrophobic. No. He needed to get out before his flame extinguished. They couldn't be caught in the dark. Silas swerved to avoid stepping into the daughter's remains, her midsection ripped out for the world to see. "Angie?" cried the boy, now bawling. "Please...please no!" said Silas as he tried not to think about the near-future. Finally, after what seemed like hours of running through that bloody hallway, he spotted a door with light seeping into the hallway from its seams. His eyes lit up in desperation as he quickened his pace. The light in his lamp was nearly gone, the darkness doing it's best to choke it out. The door was too far away. They weren't going to make it. He decided to look behind him. There in the darkness, rapidly approaching them like something out of a horror novel, were too beady, feral, red eyes. Silas hadn't gotten another step before the creature reached them. Just before it attacked, Silas caught a glimpse of what it was. It looked just like him. Only it wasn't. There was nothing left of him in this creature. Silas awoke with a start, breathing hard and half expecting his head otbe torn from his body. He was gasping for breath, as if he hadn't been breathing the whole time. His eyes darted around as he sat up out of his bed. He was back in his room now, the night sky just beginning to fade into morning. He looked to his door to see that it was still closed and exhaled. It was just another nightmare. He sat out of bed and held his head in his hands as he tried to calm down. He'd managed to get to sleep at some point, but he couldn't remember when. Silas decided to start his day early. He wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon and maybe not for the next few days. Maybe not ever if he could help it. Once he'd showered and gotten dressed, he headed down to the kitchen. He usually stayed in his room during the mornings but he felt bad about his reluctance to talk the other night and was hoping to talk to Elizabeth over breakfast. She'd said she was okay, but the words she'd uttered when the blonde heathen had been there the day before still bothered him. I never asked him to return my feelings, I also never expected that he would ever feel the same. So, believe me when I tell you my hopes are not up. Elizabeth was a grown woman and no doubt had more control of her emotions than the average school girl, but she was still human and she still had feelings. A talk couldn't hurt. His mind was also in a better state and she'd be dressed this time. He'd be able to speak with her normally. "Morning, Red." said Silas as he entered the kitchen. "Sir." nodded Sir Redding as he sipped some of his coffee. "Up so early?" "Didn't sleep too well." Said Silas before taking a seat at the table. "Any of the other maid's up yet?" "No, but I'm not sure if Elizabeth is up or not." "Good." said Silas. "I was hoping I could talk to her about yesterday. Just the two of us." "Do you...like her?" Silas furrowed his eyebrows and looked over to Sir Redding slowly. "...Do I like her?" repeated Silas. "You mean do I...feel the same way about her that she does for me?" "Yes." Silas paused as he thought about the answer to that question. She was a wonderful woman that worked hard for what he wanted, but he hadn't really gotten the chance to know her. Especially not over the passed four years. Silas shook his head. "She seems to be a wonderful woman, Red." answered Silas. "But you know I can't pursue. Too dangerous." "Perhaps." nodded Sir Redding before setting his coffee cup down and sighing. "But...last night...I did some thinking." "You want me try again?" said Silas, knowing what Sir Redding was going to say. "There might be a way, is all I'm saying." said Sir Redding matter-of-factly. "I don't want you to be alone forever." "I know." nodded Silas. "But even if there was, and there isn't...I do not deserve such a woman. She doesn't know what I am." "I'm getting up in my years, Silas." said Sir Redding. "I'd prefer to leave this world knowing that you've found something to live for. We've all done...bad things. But if chance permits it, a good man will try to change." "...What are you saying?" asked Silas, wondering where he was going with this. "I'm saying that yesterday...I thought...I thought you'd...given in to your other self. Elizabeth hadn't shown up for dinner and I'd assumed the worst. And it would've been my fault too." "C'mon, Red." said Silas as he sat up in his chair. "No, no." said Sir Redding as he held up a finger. "I gave you that bottle knowing that it was risky. I'd practically set up a disaster and I just knew something bad had happened. But it didn't. You didn't give in to your other side. You held fast to the man you chose to be." "But I almost didn't." "But you tried, sir." said Sir Redding. "Good things come to men who try." Silas nearly cringed at Sir Redding's words as if hurt by them somehow. "I wish you were right, Red. I really do."
  8. My character Zack is all about adapting to new situations and NOT thinking he's perfect in any way. I guess his main problem is his paranoia and reluctance to trust people, something I feel a lot of us can relate to. So, ironically, there's a part of him that hates humanity for how surprisingly morally inept and cruel it can be. Charlie's problem is women and the humongous ego he shows off to cover up his failings. He also hates people and enjoys making them suffer wherever he can, which ain't good for his humanity, of which he has very little. Don't expect any favors or mercy from this guy unless you're a female. He's kind of a selfish jerk. Tracy hates herself humongously for some pretty horrible things she's done in the past and sometimes actually wishes to die. But unlike the others, she loves humanity because she's seen the good in it. Despite her "problem" she's less likely to kill someone than any of the others in the troop. She's also a little...excuse me, VERY competitive at times and doesn't do well with failure. Mikey's issues are unknown. Hell, even I don't know what his deal is. All I can say for sure is that by looking into his eyes, you can see a guy that's given up on life and whatever meaning associated with. It might explain why he ain't bothered about taking yours without the slightest hint of joy, disdain, or hesitation. McTeague's problem is easy. Dudes a grade A drunk that's too depressed to see that there's still life left to live. The Illusive Man's problem is nonexistent, because he is nonexistent. Don't even know why I wrote this one. There's no reason to acknowledge what ain't ever been. ...Ya' know, I don't think I've really examined my characters like this. This'll make writing about em' a little easier! Thanks random thread I only commented on because it showed up in my notifications!
  9. I'd be interested! I also write stories on the side and enjoy learning from others so that I can really broaden my imagination with new tricks and tips for an immersive story. I like mystery, horror, and sci-fi! As my sig implies, I hate magic! Still wouldn't mind having an RP with magic in it though. I'd be happy ta' RP with ya pal. Welcome to Valucre by the way. It's actually pretty sweet here! And don't worry, I check my Valucre everyday and am currently only part of one RP, the other two currently in a hiatus state. Life's got my buddies busy.
  10. It had been years since Silas had felt like this. He wasn't himself anymore. It was as if both his brain and heart were finally in agreement with each other, the both of them saying that he should hunt Elizabeth down and drink until he was full. He felt loose and unsure of himself, like a cord being held together by a single string of the most unsturdy substance in the world. it felt like he was already on his way to her room, following her scent. But he just stood there like a statue. Not a single part of his consciousness was against the idea of what he wanted to do. He was all animal at the moment, having no other reason to live other than feeding. If it weren't for the counseling he'd received from that monk back in Japan hundreds of years ago, Elizabeth and probably everyone else in the estate would already be dead. He'd come to the lady monk in hopes that she would be able to teach him to control himself. Instead, she'd merely taught him about who he was. About what every human being was. An animal. When it comes down to extreme circumstances, a human will abandon all sense of self and reason to accomplish a task, turning into something feral and brazen. She'd taught him to accept this part of himself as reality, something he would not be able to ever abolish completely. To become an animal was normal because he WAS an animal. But that wasn't all. It took years of training and meditation, but she'd helped him understand that there was more than one animal within him. No one person is just one thing just as there were always two parts to every story. The second side of a person was one that resisted it's core instincts so relentlessly that it appeared as though it were an animal itself. the monk referred to this as the second animal, and if he were gain control of his primal urges, he would need to learn how to manifest it. He'd need to learn to ignore the reason and feelings in both his heart and mind, the ones telling him that it was foolish and futile to fight his feral instincts. He'd need to fight against the very things people relied on to control their urges, for the heart and mind would prove themselves to be treacherous. They were not as pure as people thought. The monk had been supplying him with blood to over the years since it was a necessity for him to survive, but she was careful not to bring in rich blood that could set him off. Once he began to understand how to tame the beast within him, she decided it was time to test him. She secretly ordered a gallon of the richest blood she could find after "forgetting" to feed him for a week. She then brought him to her chambers and ordered that all her servants leave the room. After they were gone, she took the blood and poured it all over herself right in front of him. She then just stood there, nude and covered in the freshest, riches blood she could find. Silas was so enthralled by the scent and his hunger that he couldn't even work up the strength run unless it was towards her. Veins could be seen bulging on his head as he snarled at her, his fangs bared and salivating. He felt his heart and mind, the two things he'd relied on to live, turn against him in a matter of seconds. There seemed to be nothing left to fight with, and the monk would die horribly. Then, using what was left of his constitution, he remembered what she had taught him. He remembered the Second Animal. He slammed his fists onto the floor and he growled in rage hard enough to shake the monastery, deciding to fight against what people thought they were. And, to him, he did it for no reason. He fought against his urge, knowing that it was futile, knowing that he wasn't strong enough, knowing that it would never end, knowing that he fail. And he did that for five hours. By the time the blood had turned stale, Silas was no more than a man lying down in front of the monk in a catatonic state, the floor smashed to pieces underneath him. He was no longer aware of the world around him, forging a seemingly infinite battle within his own psyche. He didn't even hear the monk redress herself and order the men outside her door come in. He didn't notice the men pick him up and take him away. Even when they put him back in his room with a few dozen bottles of regular blood, he didn't dare drink. Instead, he snarled at them as he lay in his bed, both hating and loving the life water at the same time. He did this for another three days until the monk became worried. Fearing that he'd black out and lose himself to the beast, she ordered her men to force feed the blood to him. It was difficult since he constantly spat it back out and even tried to fight them off, breaking a guards spine in the process, but they finally managed to calm him enough to get some blood into his system. After a few hours of drinking a few sips at a time, he stopped shaking and was finally able to rest. When he awoke, the monk visited him and told him what had happened, saying that she was proud of him and quite frankly happy to be alive. Silas could remember being so happy that he actually shed a few tears and hugged the woman in appreciation. He'd done it. He'd beaten the animal. For the next few weeks, he lived at the monastery feeling light-hearted and happy. The loom of darkness over him had receded and he felt like a free man that could venture anywhere he wanted, do anything he wanted. He felt indebted to the monk and swore that he'd somehow pay her back. She told him he wouldn't have to since they already had everything they needed, but there was no talking him out of it. Unfortunately, he'd never get the chance to. Silas cringed at the thought as he began to calm down. He felt sick at the stomach, something that always followed when he denied himself an irresistible meal. One would think it was just withdrawal, but in reality it was just another one of his mind's ploys to make him give in to his seemingly insatiable hunger. A few seconds after nearly throwing up on the patch of flowers below that Elizabeth had planted, he heard his door open again. "Elizabeth?" came Sir Redding's voice. "Silas... have you seen Elizabeth? She did not come down for dinner." Silas wiped a hand down his face before turning around, remembering the days events. Elizabeth had made it known that she'd had feelings for him and had come to his room later to deliver his dinner. She might've wanted to speak with him about what had happened earlier, but he'd left her in a hurry to avoid an incident. To her, it probably looked like he wanted to be nowhere near her. But he had to leave though. Sir Redding had given him a bottle of her blood. Speaking of which... "Red..." said Silas before taking a deep breath and turning around. "Remember what I told you about Elizabeth having a particularly STRONG scent?" "...Yes." said Sir Redding, knowing what was coming. "I take it that it was...too much for you?" "Yes." said Silas as he walked over to a chair and sat down, a minor headache coming on. "Nearly pounced on her Red. It would've been bad." "Forgive me." said Sir Redding with a sigh. "I didn't want it to go to waste and I figured you...deserved a treat-" "I know." said silas with a nod as he raised his hand for him to stop. "And I thank you for thinking of me. Just...don't do that again. Please." "Yes. Sorry." nodded Sir Redding. "Have you seen Elizabeth? She hasn't come down for dinner." Silas raised an eyebrow in question, wondering if she'd been too hurt by his earlier actions to be around people. It pained Silas to think this, so he got up and proceeded to the door leading out of his room. He had to go check on her. It'd bother him to no end if he didn't. "I'll go check on her." said Silas as he walked passed him. "That blasted blonde...if she hadn't shown up none of this would have happened." "I feel I should've put a bullet through her skull." said Sir Redding in a calm demeanor. Silas shook his head. "As nosey as she's been, she's no doubt talked to people in town about me. Killing her would only result in worse problems." "I know." sighed sir Redding. Silas followed Elizabeth's scent to her room, the smell of bating salts heavy in the air. He exhaled. He was feeling nervous for some reason. Was it because he didn't know how mucb longer he could stand her scent if she were to come to the door? Was his heart fluttering because the perfect woman had expressed love for him? Or was it because she was probably nude at this very moment? Whatever reason it was, he'd make sure not to let it show. She obviously had a lot on her mind and she needed to speak to that wouldn't make her nervous or uncomfortable. For all he knew, she was in there crying. "Elizabeth?" said Silas before knocking on her door just hard enough for her to hear him from the bathroom. "Are you ok?"
  11. Silas always wondered why Elizabeth chose to stay with him. His mind had considered countless possibilities but he was never able to pin one down as fact. Or maybe he was just lying to himself. He'd been alive a long time and courted many women in the process. He was adept at spotting the social cues that confirmed a woman's infatuation with him. They always tried to look their best in front of him, giving off the most perfect mental and physical appearance they possibly could. They never let ill intents or emotions become visible. They never showed him an inkling of the reasons they were infatuated with him. Money. Power. Status. A good bed-mate. They never showed him the real reasons they always tried to act perfect in front of him, and they never disagreed with him on anything. It was always yes, followed by a request. To them, the relationship they shared was plastic, and it was un-allowed to become any more than that. Elizabeth was not like these women. Although it was true that she tried to look her best in front of him, it wasn't because of simple infatuation. Whenever she was near, when he forced himself to power through her maddening scent, he could hear her heart-beat going a mile a minute, like it was about to explode. No woman he'd encountered in the past ever displayed such nervousness around him unless they were about to die. Maybe that was because money and power tended to attract paper-thin individuals. Just bags of flesh barely conscious of the fact they existed. Then there were the times he'd catch her looking at him from afar, being able to see the glint in her eyes just for a moment before she turned away. Again, it was a look he'd never seen on any other woman. It was passionate. It was real. Silas knew this to be true. When she'd first arrived here, she didn't display these signs. She was just here for the work. It was only with time that she began to develop feelings for him. Silas respected women who didn't believe in love at first sight. He respected women who were strong enough to hold that feeling down until it could be proven. Silas dropped the pencil he was writing with and put dragged his hands down his face with a sigh. He'd known she'd had feelings for him for years. If he'd been too dense to figure it out by all the cues she was giving, his...abilities helped him to solidify it in his mind. But now the cat was out of the bag. There would be no ignoring it anymore. No more playing dumb. He'd have to confront her about her feelings...and tell her that it would never happen. There had been many 'Sir Reddings' in his past. People that stuck with him even after learning his secret and seeing just what horrors he was capable of. They helped him live in a world that desperately needed him to die, telling him the same thing over and over again. That it wasn't his fault. That he was just like any other man with faults, only when he didn't properly mitigate his, hundreds of people died. They encouraged him and helped wean him off his attempted-suicide addiction. They gave him joy and a purpose to live. A few of them were women he loved dearly like sisters. Others were like brothers. They were his family. Unfortunately, time only moves one way and can not be reversed. These good people that took him in and treated him like a human being...eventually died. And that was rare. Most of them were killed in a vain attempt to protect him. They tried to be something to him, and they'd paid the price. They didn't deserve it though. Now Elizabeth wanted to become one of these people, only different. She wanted to become his lover. There was no doubt in his heart that he felt feelings for her as well, seeing how hard-working and genuinely kind she was to others. It didn't matter though. He couldn't allow himself to form another relationship. She'd just wind up like every other person that got close to him. Dead and gone. He envied couples that got to die together. At least then, they wouldn't have to keep living with the bone-deep sting of death. The image of an old woman with a bullet wound in her chest flashed before his eyes and caused him to wince as if in pain. Just from that quick glimpse, he could feel his hatred for humanity growing, and his feral side followed suit. After a bit of controlled breathing that same woman had taught him all those years ago, he managed to calm down. His eyes formed back to their natural shape from the feral slits they'd briefly become. He felt his fangs retract until they looked like normal canines. His muscles began to shrink and relax back down to normal human proportions. With a final sigh, he opened his eyes and looked back down at his desk. He saw that his right hand was gripping the edge of the desk so hard that it had splintered and broke. He released the desk and watched as a few pieces of splintered wood fell to the floor. Sir Redding would notice that, and he'd figure out that he'd had another flare up. The blood Silas was getting in the mornings had become much less sustaining over the years. Now, it could only tide him over for eight hours at best before he began to seriously considering drinking someone dry. Just as he was about to get up and call for Sir Redding, a familiar smell wafted into his nostrils. Elizabeth. She must have been coming up the stairs. He began to panic, thinking about what he'd say to address her confession and kindly let her down. He wouldn't be able to tell her why without putting her life in danger, so this was especially difficult. When the door opened however, it wasn't Elizabeth. "Your wine lord Silas." said Sir Redding as he stepped into the room and placed a bottle filled with what Silas knew was blood. "Please forgive me but I felt it would be a waste to throw it out." Before Silas could question him further, Sir Redding turned and left the room. What had he meant by 'it would be a waste to throw it out'? Also, why was Elizabeth's scent so strong all of a sudden? It was like she was standing right next to him. No, even closer than that. It was as if the blood in the bottle was... Silas reared back and stared at the glass of Elizabeth's blood in shock. What had happened? Why was so much of her blood in this bottle? Certainly Sir Redding hadn't extracted it himself through violent means. He'd never do something like that. Suddenly, his shaking hand reached for the bottle. Silas stopped himself before he could grab it. No. He couldn't drink this right now. He could already feel his feral side rising to the surface with his growing hunger. His heart rate increased dramatically, a sign of his excitement. He considered getting up right then and leaving the room, but his hunger kept him plastered to his seat, his hand inching forward until he grabbed the neck of the bottle. Almost as if he were in a daze, he popped the cork and brought the tip of the bottle to his mouth. The scent was irresistible now. There was no turning back. He intended to take a sip, but of course that didn't happen. He chugged the blood down like a dehydrated hyena with all the same gusto. Once he was finished taking his sip, the bottle half empty. He slammed it down onto his desk with a loud sigh of pleasure. It was guttural sigh though, almost like the low growl of a lion. His fangs were extended once again, and his eyes had changed to slits. No blood had ever tasted this good before or given him such a rush. It felt like he'd just drank straight from the fountain of life and he wanted more. He'd started to reach for the bottle again when he heard his door open. He took his hand away from the bottle with strong displeasure. In his euphoric daze, he hadn't heard someone ascending the steps. At first he'd thought it was Sir Redding returning to ask him how the 'wine' tasted, but the sound of the foot-falls as whoever it was approached him weren't as heavy or loud as Sir Redding's. It had to be Elizabeth. She was the only maid allowed in his private quarters and it was dinner time. Nearly cursing under his breath, Silas didn't turn to greet her. He couldn't allow her to see him like this, but he also didn't want to run out and jump off his balcony in an attempt to escape. That wouldn't make her suspicions any better. So he just sat there, breathing heavily and trying to resist the urge to gather the blood from an even fresher source. Elizabeth's hand could be seen setting his dinner down next to his 'wine'. He noticed a fresh, but large cut on her arm. At least now he knew where the blood had come from. "Your dinner my Lord!" said Elizabeth's voice. Suddenly, everything about her seemed more attractive than before. Even her voice was delicious. He knew that if he didn't get away fast, he might hurt her. Bad. "Excuse me!" said Silas, stumbling out of his chair and rushing out to the patio outside his room. Once there, he leaned over the balcony and exhaled, trying not to breathe in anymore of Elizabeth's scent. He could still smell it, but with the winds outside it wasn't as bad. At least now there was enough left of his mind to fully understand what was happening. The scent of Elizabeth's raw blood was making him go feral all on it's own. That was not good. Not good at all. Why would Sir Redding give him Elizabeth's blood? Hadn't he told him how strong her scent was. It was already hard enough to keep his hands off her when the blood was inside her body. He exhaled. He needed to focus on his breathing. He needed to calm down.
  12. "Oh, and Silas...." said Elizabeth before leaving the room. "Perhaps, maybe I know better, perhaps I just have learned to love them they way they are. No matter if that person IS or is NOT what they seem to be. " She left down the steps after that, leaving Silas a little confused. 'She loved them just the way they are.' she'd said. Did it not matter to her what kind of person she was referring to? Did she not have standards when it came to those she cherished? That kind of tolerance was only seen in a family, and seldom at that. Did Elizabeth see him as family? Was that why she and the others were so resolved to stick around even after all the things they'd witnessed him doing? He figured it wasn't that far fetched of a notion, seeing as how Sir Redding had personally seen what Silas could do and was still loyal despite it all. Sir Redding was like a brother to him, and Silas was sure the feeling was mutual. Elizabeths feelings could also be understood because of her family life, which was seemingly nonexistent before arriving at the estate. It common behavior for a person to replace a part of their life they cherished with something that resembled it as closely as possible. Perhaps she viewed Sir Redding as her father and Silas as her brother. Or maybe she viewed Silas as something more. He shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich before resuming his work. For a woman to love a man like himself was unthinkable. Sure, he'd had many women take a liking to him over the years, but none of them truly loved him. The only things they loved about him were his dashing good looks and what the ladies would call his 'Dark and handsome demeanor'. He was also pretty good at parties years ago. They didn't know anything about him though. They didn't know what his favorite foods were, his favorite color, what he liked to do, nothing. They didn't care about those things. Surely Elizabeth was mature enough not to have feelings for a man just because he was dark and handsome. There would have to be something more significant. The problem with that was that she knew little to nothing about his past before she came to work here. If he ever told her, and he certainly didn't plan on doing so, he was sure she wouldn't love him anymore. Silas almost chuckled at his dark humor. There was something bothering him about what she'd said earlier though. She'd said that something had "happened" to her family, but she didn't explain what. Silas thought about what this event could have been. Had her parents been killed in a raid sometime ago? Had she ran away? The fact that she didn't elaborate on this had to mean she didn't really want to talk about it. Whatever happened, Silas felt a tinge of relief and happiness that she was able to come here. The world was no place for a lone, wandering woman. Silas could attest that men were savages, animals waiting for a woman to come along with her dress trimmed too low, waiting for a reason to do something they know is wrong. Here, she and the other maids had shelter, food, and given Silas and Sir Redding's residence, adequate protection. Silas had been know for being extraordinarily generous to those that needed help. Years ago, Elizabeth no doubt noticed the joy it brought to his heart to help another in need. There had been a time when he would allow some of poorer residents of the nearby towns to visit his estate and feed them. Surprisingly, none of these people ever tried to steal. It were the wealthy ones he invited over for parties that proved to be dishonest. All they ever cared about were themselves. It was because of their antics that Silas shut himself out from the world. He kept telling himself that it was for the best. Silas stopped writing when he heard the commotion downstairs. He could hear Elizabeth speaking with a woman whose voice he could vaguely remember. Based on this woman's tone, Silas could tell she wasn't that friendly. Even more appalling was what she called herself. Silas didn't have any lovers. If he did, he could easily attest that the feeling wasn't mutual. She claimed to also know Sarah, which immediately put him on edge. He really didn't feel up to making another person disappear. It could at least be a man for a change. Killing a man always made him feel much less worse than he did when killing a woman. He believed that women were the best thing that ever happened to man and should be treated with respect. Even though...most of the women he'd killed had it coming, it didn't help siphon the guilt away. As he heard this boisterous and rude woman ascend the stairs, he sighed and got out of his chair. Elizabeth could be heard trying to stop the woman, but her efforts were fruitless. "Silas, why have you not called for me?" asked the blonde woman that barged in and threw herself onto his couch as if she paid any of the bills there. Immediately, he recognized her. It had been maybe a year ago when he'd met her on the way back tot eh estate from a business run. It had been a much longer trip than he'd anticipated and he'd run dry on his blood reserves a few days before arriving back in town. The reason it had been so long was because he'd run into some bandits. They'd shot and killed his horse before he gunned them down, and they'd gotten him a few times as well. Although wounds were of no threat to his life no matter how severe, the regeneration process did require much of his energy to work. This meant that he was even more ravenous than he normally would have been when he arrived in town. He was delirious with thirst, more akin to a starving wolf than a man. As he hobbled through the streets refusing help and trying not to pounce on anyone that got close to him, he bumped into woman. The woman recognized him and knew he had money, so she tried to seduce him relentlessly. Of course, Silas wasn't fazed by it in the slightest. One thing was certain though. If the woman didn't stop hounding him and he didn't get a drink soon, he would have an other incident. So he got to thinking quickly. He pretended to be swooned by the woman until they were in her bed-chambers. She'd began to undress, but he suggested against it, saying he wanted to take things slow. So they got in bed and started making out. When Silas began biting her, she'd thought they were love bites. She'd thought they were love bites right up until she passed out. After he'd had enough to sustain himself until he reached the manor, he stopped feeding on her in fear that she'd die if he didn't. When she woke up the next morning, he was gone. She was partially dressed and covered in what she thought were 'Love Bites'. For the next year, she was constant pain in his side, trying to seduce him whenever he left the estate. Silas was aware of her motives, so he usually just kindly brushed her off so as not to make a scene. It worked for a while, but she eventually became downright obsessive, even going so far as to spy on the maids that occasionally left to pick up groceries. She coyly befriended Sarah and told her what had happened, confirming the maids suspicions. In fact, this blonde harlot's mouth may have been what caused the maid to try and voice her suspicions in the first place. Through the conversations she'd had with Sarah, she'd learned about his many other maids, figuring that he was running a brothel of sorts. She figured that if he were, it had to be the reason he wasn't accepting her advances. He was already using one of his maids as 'bite-cushion'. This false assumption became even more apparent when the money-hungry harlot began undressing Elizabeth and checking her for bite marks. "MA'AM." shouted Silas authoritatively as he shielded his eyes from whatever nudity was shown. He'd seen plenty of naked women, but he respected Elizabeth more than any other woman he'd met. "Stop! What are you doing to her!?" When Elizabeth was thrown to the ground, Silas felt some of his primal urges almost resurface. He glared at the woman, restraining himself from pouncing. He would not kill this woman now. Not in front of Elizabeth. Soon after, Sir Redding came in and tended to Elizabeth, his eyes also locked on the blonde woman with a glare. After making Sure Elizabeth was okay, he ushered her out of the room and returned, shutting the door. Flipping the hem of his suit away, he placed his hand on his revolver, letting the woman see for good measure. "Ma'am," said Sir Redding in a cold and calm tone. "I don't know who the hell you are, but Mr. Grimheardt OWNS this property. That means that I can put a bullet through you right now for trespassing and assault with NO criminal charges." Silas approached the woman slowly and looked down at her with a glare only reminiscent of something feral. "First, you hound me for a full year..." he began. "Trying to sleep with me just so you can get a little extra cash. Then you BARGE into my estate and ASSAULT one of my household? Ma'am, if you know what is GOOD for you, you WILL leave NOW."
  13. YO! I got a potential spot in a different RP open! Would ya...be interested in climbing aboard? It's called Journey to the Sky Coin. I'll give ye' the link ey'? If ya can't participate, I TOTALLY understand! Sorry V-High kind a died, but its hard to keep up with it when people keep dropping out. :(

    1. Acarteus

      Acarteus

      Sure thing

    2. zackrobbman

      zackrobbman

      Sweet'o! Here's the link! 

      And here's a bit'o lore to go with it ey?

      https://www.valucre.com/forum/195-the-sky-coin/

      Just gonna ask the guy if it's cool for ya ta' join!

  14. Indeed good fellow! May your real life travels fare well! ALSO...there is a chance I may have someone in mind that can actually fill the spot. Gonna go ask her if it's cool.
  15. Zack awoke with a start, almost head-butting the hunter immediately. "What in Sam Hill..." he murmured before seeing Iedomee's face so close to his and backing up. "Zack! Have you seen Ina? Tara and I can't find her." Zack looked around him and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He was still in the tree, Iedomee kneeling on a nearby branch. Zack thought about what Iedomee had justs aid and his eye's widened. "Oh, boy." he said before hopping out of the tree and looking around him. He could hear Artyom and Tara calling Ina's name from all over the haven. Like Iedomee, they sounded worried sick. He heard Iedomee land behind him. "We looked everywhere. We haven't seen Onzan either." Iedomee spoke in an angry whisper. Zack could tell that he was already in a killing mood. "Do you think he's taken her? I can't believe he would really do this." "Nothing's impossible." said Zack as he began jogging towards a nearby tower. "I doubt he'd just take her someplace without telling anyone. I figured he was smart enough to know that you'd hunt him down if he did." Once he reached the tower, he hopped up and grabbed a small protrusion before yanking himself upwards to the next. In a few bounds, he was at the top, looking all around him from the high vantage point. "ONZAN!" he shouted, careful not to loose his footing. "INA!" There was no reply. Part of him felt dumb for trusting Onzan as much as he did. Part of him felt even stupider for thinking that getting to relax here wouldn't be without it's downsides. It was only a matter of time before the monk pulled a fast one, and he should've been on guard. Now Ina was gone, and judging by how loud Tara and Artyom were shouting, she wasn't even here to begin with. Did the haven have a lower floor though? If that were the case, it could barely explain how Onzan or Ina weren't hearing him. Still, why would Ina let this guy take her anywhere without first waking one of them up? Zack kept coming back to the possibility of kidnapping. Maybe the bastard was working with Varga's and the Tin Man. That didn't make sense though. If he was working with them, why wouldn't he just radio the two and tell them where Ina was the moment he got them all inside the haven? If he had, and the Tin Man had shown up to take Ina, he surely wouldn't have left Zack or the others alive. He just didn't work that way. Or maybe Onzan wanted the pay for himself and was just waiting for a good opportunity to steal Ina away himself without risking a fight. Zack furrowed his eyebrows in anger before carefully descending the tower. Zack didn't like traitors. He didn't like fake people in general. If Onzan knew what was good for him, he'd better have a perfect explanation for what he'd done. Once he was ground level, he walked back over to a frantic Iedomee. "This place have a basment?" he asked, trying to put his thoughts together. "Also, was she gone when you woke up?"