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First there is a light in the distance, yet it seems to flee you instead of approach, until its gone and nothing remains. Then the thirst comes, filing, replacing the nothingness until is everything. Yet it is still rising, still getting more urgend, becoming more than everything.
And suddenly you are awake, yet disoriented. The thirst, still pulsing in the back, doesn't manage to fill your conscious mind as before and you manage to look around.
You are laying on a medical table together with a number of other figures, seemingly also just waking up, in an artificially lit room.
Next to the table you lie on is a small side table, holding a bowl filled with a blood-red fluid. You might not be an expert in those matters, but something tells you it indeed is blood. And you fell the overwhelming urge to drink is.
On the other side of the room you notice a man in a black suite sitting on a chair next to the only door, reading newspaper. Just like you have the urge to drink the blood in the bowl, there is an equally strong force telling you to jump the man, rip open his throat and drink his blood.
DC 15 Perception check
Spoiler
You notice the page one headline: "Over 200 dead in Channel tunnel collapse. Was it really an accident?"
He seems to notice that you are waking up, as he folds his newspaper and addresses you: "Ah, you are finally waking up, good. My name is George Fulbright Farebrook and I hereby welcome you as the newest members of the "European Organization for preparation against and removal off unexplainable and extraterrestrial threats in the jurisdiction of it's member states." Well, that's at least the current official name on the commissions budget list, today most call us just the "Organization"."
[OOC: Giving you some time to react if you want, otherwise he'll just talk on.]
The thin form of Rockflower stretches its arms as it slowly glides to consciousness. Yawning, she semi-consciously scratches her armpit and picks her nose before her eyelids half-open. Sizing up Black Suit, she groans slightly and covers her eyes with her hands, turning over to face away with him. "Oh, Spirits... have I joined the army again? But I could have sworn it was just happy-buzz stuff, not the daytrip to God stuff... urghhh." Opening an eye again, she takes in the bowl blankly. Sniffing, she tremulously reaches out and drags a finger along its surface, bringing it towards her for examination. She fights a sudden, terrible urge to lick it. "Blood? Oh Spirits another cult? Hrmmmmm or I'm still blasted with that stuff..." Looking around, she continues "Pink rabbit of happiness, are you hiding from your Rockflower?"
Ferret suddenly sits up, eyes wide open. What the **** was that?
He looks around the room. The tables, the bowls the man in the suit. He thinks hard to break through the fog. I don't remember taking anything.
A smile creeps across his face and he looks around again. Rick? It this of your doing rick, you little ****?
Spoiler
perception roll(1d20+9)[22]
He notices the story on the newspaper and his brows furrow. I remember being on the train and feels the urges. he reaches out and dips his finger in the fluid. Thick. He half grins as he brings the finger to his mouth and then the smile suddenly vanishes and he pops the finger in his mouth. The craving become unbearable and without hesitation he grabs the bowl and begins to drink.
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The story has been told a million times, but it is different when it is your life.
Thanks to Darth Raynn for my Avatar
Last edited by Smileybastard : 04-18-2013 at 09:48 AM.
"I know you are most likely completely mystified right now and feel an great thirst. At least the later can easily been rectified by drinking the bowl to your left. To change the former might take a bit more explaining. First of all, no, that was not a dream and you are also not on drugs."
Rockflower grins a crafty grin and points at the man. "Ah but now i've got you there, suit man! I'm always on stuff so I know you a lyi-" her eyes widen in horror "Oh Spirits wait wait how long was I out...?" Looking around, she winces and covers her eyes. "Oh stone-voices, is this what the world actually LOOKS like? It smells like plastic dog-mess!" Reaching out to the bowl, she brings it to her lips and drinks it in one fell swoop. "If you haven't spiked this, little man, I'll.... I'll put a curse on you! With my fist!"
"How? I remember.. everything going dark, being tossed and crushed, and the... rats?". He expects a wave of revulsion to rise at the fractured memory, but feels nothing. He feels his face and tries to move, and is surprised at being uninjured. "How long have I been out? Where am I? Have my folks been told?"
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Homebrew: Alpha Psyker - a mythic path for Pathfinder psionics
Falcon was galloping underneath her, his movement so smooth that it felt more like flying than riding. She took in the scenery, the sun reflecting in the lake, the rolling hills around, and spurred Falcon on. The earth disappeared under his hooves at neckbreaking speed, and she felt his muscles working against her legs. "blood"
She saw her husband in front of her, and turned Falcon around, fleeing. The sky went dark. Before her, the great expanse of the lake lay blackened in the moonlight. She urged Falcon down to the water. "Blood"
As she rode out into the black water, the land disappeared rapidly behind her. when she looked back, she could no longer see the shore, only a great black surface, seemingly spanning the horizon in all directions. she dismounted, and stood ancle-deep in the dark liquid. She bend down towards the surface, and in a flash, she saw her face. "Flood!"
Aurore opened her eyes. A mouthwatering smell teased her nostrils, and instinctively, she was on her feet, scrambling to the small table, and emptying the bowl in a frenzy. Finally taking the time to look at what she was doing, she saw the crimson dregs on the bottom. The bowl fell from her hand, and hit the floor with a bang. She remembered the train, the blood, the pain. Walking backwards, she hit the bed she'd been lying on. She took in the room around her. "What... What happened?"
Last edited by TwelvePointFive : 04-18-2013 at 04:11 PM.
"Ms Lagragne, please calm down. Technically you, all of you, died. You heart stopped beating, the electric activity in your brains stopped and your cells started to die. This was about 6 hours ago.
Now you live again, kinda. Your heart beats, albeit far to slow and your brain shows activity again. But most of your cells are still dead and while your mind still moves your body as before, still requiring your brain for it, your soul is only bound to it by one thing alone: Your blood." He makes a short pause.
"You, Ladies and Gentlemen, are now what usually is called a Vampire, the soul bound by blood to its deceased body. And for the next time you'll work for us."
Rockflower blinks, then speaks in a quiet voice. "So, I have my body, my mind, and my soul. Only the mechanisms between them have been altered. So I am still human. Good-o."
Kevin sat up, clutching his head. It hurt, and it hurt hard.
Dang, he was thirsty. Must have been some night last night for this bad of a hangover. Things hadn't been going so well lately, so he wasn't surprised that he had gotten himself too drunk to remember the last night. It would be another travesty in a rapidly unfolding series of events.
But this really took the cake.
Okay. Vampires?
You really expect us to believe that? All sparkly in the sunlight and I vant to suck you blood and all that ****? Yeah, I'm calling BS on this one.
Something smelled good. It reminded him of the juices that oozed off prime rib while it cooked. Hot and savory. The goon must have something cooking in another room.
He tried to get up. His legs were weak, but they supported his body. A few tentative steps got him off the table, and although his knees were shaky, he was able to keep himself up by leaning on the side table with the punch bowl.
So, let's screw the fun and games. If we're getting punk'd, just play the theme and bring in the host. I simply don't have time for this. I have a train to Paris to catch, and I don't want to miss it.
The punch looked good, although a bit odd. And damn, he was thirsty.
Almost unconsciously, he dipped in a finger, and took it to his lips.
Delicious. It tasted odd though, kind of like...
Red meat...
Kevin thought he should be horrified, but he wasn't. Intellectually, he was disgusted, but his body told him that it was natural, that he should continue to consume the contents of the bowl.
Now that scared him.
And then he caught the headline out of the corner of his eye.
Simon looks intently at the man, sees the movements of his eye, flushes of skin, and tell tale traces of a pulse indicating he is telling the truth. He then realizes he notices such, stares over at the bowl, and sighs.
"Bugger. I had better not sparkle."
He picks up the bowl, and drinks it messily, getting blood over his face and front.
"Um, can I have a straw next time?"
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Homebrew: Alpha Psyker - a mythic path for Pathfinder psionics
"No, for now it's rather more likely you slowly burn than sparkle.
And I think we have to apologize, this is usually not our favored method of recruitment, but, well, it happened.
Officially you are truly dead and I fear that will also have to stay that way, though your bereaved will be supported such that your loss wont have any detrimental financial effect on them.
You will be trained according to your given skills and then deployed to help us in keeping the peace where regular police forces are unsuitable.
And this is where I come in. For now I'm assigned as your handler, you'll get most orders from me and if you screw up I'm the one who has to clean and cover up.
Do you have any other burning questions so far or should I continue with a short tour of what will be your home for the next few months?
"
"This is going to tear my folks apart, if I could, no, it would only be worse for them, best if they're taken care of and don't know.
"Wait a second. You said our cells are dead and we have negligible biological activity? This doesn't make any sense! I don't know biology, but I know thermodynamics, we need to have some source of energy so we can produce work... soul to blood... you're going to say magic, aren't you? Bloody hell."
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Homebrew: Alpha Psyker - a mythic path for Pathfinder psionics
"Well, I'm no expert on this, but as far as I know the blood coursing through your body maintains the dead cells, keeping them in the state when they just died and even refilling ATP and enzymes. They also still react to nerve signals mostly like they did while alive. But the cell core itself and most of mitochondrions, lysosomes etc. are dead and not working. The cell can't digest, repair or reproduce anymore. So yeah, from the viewpoint of "modern medizin" it's magic."
"I am a creature of blood magic now...? Spirits, why..." still thinking about this, Rockflower passingly asks Suit-man "As long as you are offering- what is your name? And why do we have to work for the Man? That's so suppressing my chakra... I assume you have a damn good reason-***-threat, so count this as curiosity as to what it is."
"Well, strictly speaking we can't force you to work for us. But we also can't let you out as long as you don't prove yourself to us. And no, this is not a case of "evil, oppressive government. Basically there are two reasons for it. On one hand, there's the danger you pose. On the other side, even when you are peaceful, out alone you would die pretty quickly, either by stepping into the sun, running out of nourishment or getting killed for being a vampire. There exist certain groups with zero tolerance policies to that sort of thing. Usually they wont hunt power-, yet peaceful individuals, since it's not worth it, but a spawn? I would give you about 48 hours."
"So, we are dead?" Aurore thinks it over for a spell. "I don't believe you. This has to be a setup of some kind, a wierd practical joke or something. Vampires doesn't exist." She looks to the people who woke up with her. "You know this, right?"
Last edited by TwelvePointFive : 04-19-2013 at 09:36 AM.
"Ah, yes your probably missed it in your confusion. As I said, my name is George Fulbright Farebrook." he turns to Ferret "And sure, some survive their "infancy" alone, but the chances stand against them. Especially since modern weapons somewhat leveled the playing field." Finally he addresses Aurore "If you don't believe me, I would be happy to prove your status to you. But that might hurt."
Last edited by Finkmilkana : 04-19-2013 at 10:25 AM.
This is different. Agh. New headache. I need new pills. I'll be damned if I don't have enough of them. My carry-on is a fscking pharmacy, so why not? It's bloody insane, that's why not. It takes me ninety fscking minutes to get through fscking security.
Huh.
Did I pass out? Why am I lying down? Belt. Shoes. Watch. Tie. No tie? That's not right. Belt. Shoes. Watch... Tie. No tie. Hmm. Belt, Shoes, Watch, T -- No. Way. No way. I wouldn't forget my tie, nut. Don't call me that! Why not? You're not making any sense; why would I wear my WORK clothes and not wear my WORK tie? You wouldn't. Damned straight. Yeah...
I WAS MUGGED! There were two of them! 5. EIGHT hulking miscreants with rifles and bayonets. Bayonets? Yes! They lunged at me! I wasn't afraid. Yes, you were. I was hardly, almost completely devoid of fear. You wet yourself. Something clomped me on the head -- headache! I have to get out of here!
*gasp!*
Adrenaline-laced pupils recoil from the bright lights. He rolls over onto his knees, then staggers to his feet, ready to sprint. Strange room, strange faces. Fear gives way to puzzlement at the apparent lack of danger. Recovering his composure, he steps down from atop the medical bier, adjusting his attire.
"Beg your pardon," the gentleman in his late twenties from Forest Hill, London, clears his throat. "My name is Alvin. Terribly sorry to interrupt. Has anyone seen my tie?"
Sudden'y Ferret's eyes open wide. He drops on the table again very emotional.
Wait! Wait, wait, wait. We are officially dead and have to stay that way?
That is not going to work at all. I just started getting some real success with Dizzy Maroon and now I need to be officially dead?
Fxck that.
__________________
The story has been told a million times, but it is different when it is your life.
Rockflower levers herself up off the table and yawns- restraining a wince as she touches her skin and finds it cold- and pulls her hand-knitted cardigan around her. Raising her hands to her face, she connects and contorts them into something resembling a web and peers through them at herself and at each person, wincing as she observes each one.
"Yep... we are the undead, those who have dragged their heels and stayed." Turning to George, she continues "You might as well. Go on, Georgie."
*crushed!* That tie was Versace! It set me back a hundred and fifty pounds. Three weeks' pay gone, and this man's pandering. He'd better put his money where his mouth is. Papa needs his ladies to know they're with the best. Alvin's eyes glow at Farebrook's promise of remuneration, but a skeptical brow flags its concern.
Wait, whaaat? Did that fellow just say he's dead? No. "We're dead." *snark* That's even crazier! I'm obviously not dead; therefore, "we" can't be dead. Q.E.D. Twenty quid says you're wrong. Pfft! I'm not going to bet myself. Wouldn't want to look like him, now would you? Shut up; I'm not gay. How do you know until you try try it? *rolls eyes*
...
Strange. Why doesn't anyone else think he's crazy? They're just... talking. Like therapy. Oh, God! There's another one! She called herself Undead. "We." Shut up!
Okay, great! We're leaving! I need to get home. As soon as we get to the hospital lobby, I'll just discreetly...
"Thanks." Alvin manages a smile through his migraine. "A tour would be lovely."
*don't make eye contact*
*don't make eye contact*
*don't make eye contact*
He absentmindedly scoops up his bowl, a squirt bottle, and tweezers as he hustles out the door.
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