The air is thick and the fog dense as your carriage draws to stop in front of the Godalming Estate. Stepping out of the carriage you notice just how thick. The enormous estate, which takes up the length of an entire city block is nowhere to be seen, hidden somewhere in what can only be a storm cloud descended upon London in the dying light of day. A pity such a wonderful night would be ruined with such horrible weather, for tonight is the Godalming's annual ball, something which you look forward to every year.
Clack. He comes...
Clack. I feel his eyes...
The sound of footsteps can be heard through the mists, drawing nearer by the moment. Your pulse quickens, your mind flashing to a time in the not so distant past.
It was just under ten years ago that the body of Mary Ann Nichols was found but a few miles from where you now stand, the first victim of the one dubbed Jack the Ripper. Since that dreadful day when Nichols was found, the sound of footsteps in the mists has forever heightened your senses in the night's fog.
The hair on your arms stands at attention. Sounds seem muffled and yet too close at the same time. Your heart races just as you race towards the safety of the estate. So thick is the fog that you stumble over the first few steps on the porch, barely catching yourself from a nasty fall on the hard stone below. The footsteps draw nearer. watching me...
Click. always watching...
Faster now than before they resound. Regaining your feet, you scramble up the stairs towards the door.
Grasping the knocker with sweaty palms, you hardly notice how frantic a beating you're giving the poor door. Come on already! Open the door!....
A figure approaches from the walkway just as the door cracks but an inch.
Throwing the door wide, you scramble in only to find the way blocked.
The butler inquires "Is something the matter? You look a bit pale. Come, let me take your coat."
As the tall, tuxedo-ed servant smiles at you, all your fears drain away.
A foolish laugh escapes your lips as you remember the ball.
But that laugh is drowned away by the howls of a great many wolves close at hand. Tens, no hundreds it seems, just outside the grounds. Through the open doorway a man erupts and slams the large oaken door closed with a fury and desperation you've never seen. He turns then, leaning against the closed door and you notice the crazed man's eyes gleaming in stark contrast to his ghostly pallor.
"They're here. They've followed me here! And the Master! He comes as well. He lied. He deceived me! We are all doomed. Doomed I tell you!" I am loyal, trust me Master
Curly hair shakes and twitches like your nerves from the man's head as he screams in terror and exhaustion before falling to the floor in unconscious heap. From the elongated sleeves of his shirt it's obvious that this deranged man is an escapee from the nearby lunatic asylum.
"Who in Heaven's name is that?" Silas asks.
"Come Mr. Graf. Help me to get him upstairs, if you please."
"Certainly Silas. We shan't leave him on the floor for God's sake," Helmund responds.
The two men raise the poor soul into the air and carry his body up the stairs.
They come back down after the unusual gentleman is seen to.
"Well, Mr. Hadow, that was quite the adventure. I fancy a nip of evening air before I retire. Perhaps you'd care to join me?"
The butler cleared his throat. "Good sirs, I must sternly warn you against leaving the sanctuary of the estate. Wolves have been travelling in packs lately, and they have grown bold, setting upon travellers, and, so I have heard, devouring them to the very bones," he murmured, shuddering at the last bit. "Lord Goldaming has taken precautions; and the high walls and stout gates will surely keep them at bay. He has even brought in the peasants from the local village in keeping with the feudal custom."
"Surely it can't be that bad. I assure you, Mr. Graf and myself are both expert marksmen, and we have brought our pistols - rumours of bandits and all."
"Indeed, nothing we can't handle, I'm sure. Wolves flee from the stench and the flash of gunpowder anyway."
"As milords wish," the butler said, resignedly. An echo of maddened laughter came from the stairs, then the voice, weakened by distance and interveneing walls. "He is coming ... he is cooommm-mming ... MASTER!!," this last delivered in a bone-rattling shriek that cried of despair and want.
Mr. Graf and Mr. Hadow exited the manor. The fog, ever-present, was particularly robust this evening; one could barely see the road ten paces hence; ten more and it dissolved into a world of grey-white mist.
Inside the keep, there was much murmuring, as both guests of the ball and villagers regarded one another with terse glances. The occasional mad ranting by the man upstairs did little for the atmosphere.
Nor did the loud discharge of a pistol-shot ... followed in quick succession by several more.
Click-Clack Click-Clack Click-Clack Click-Clack, and a hard thud against the door ... screams for help ... another firearm discharge, much closer this time. The butler finally getting the heavy door open. Mr. Graf staggered in, carrying the body of Mr. Hadow over his shoulder. Both men's clothes were a ruin of blood. Mr. Hadow's head lolled loosely - too loosely. When Mr. Graf threw him down on the table, it became clear why. Mr. Hadow's throat had been half-torn out. It was clear he was dead. You promised that one for meeeeee....
Mr. Graf looked at the crowd with a mixture of terror and relief in his gaze. He took a glass of brandy the butler pressed into his hands as two of the other servants took the body to another room to be made ready for burial.
"They are ... " he gasped, chest heaving heavily ... "... are ... here." he got out with another gasp, then fell to the floor, motionless. Eventually one of the guests worked up the nerve to turn the man over. It was only then they noticed his black overcoat and brown wescoat were sodden with blood. His own blood. Quickly the garments were shed ... revealing savage wounds along his torso, and more peculiarly, four needle-like punctures along the back of his neck. An argument between Dr. Seward and Quincey P. Morris broke out about how to treat the man. Another man, older, quieter, perhaps more observant looked at the two bodies. Dr. Abraham Van Helsing wiped his brow briefly before speaking.
"Zey are both dead ... both victims of the blood hunt ... of the Wampyr. We are no longer safe. But we dare not go outside ... the devil wolves would tear us apart, as they haf ... Mr. Hadow ... and the brave, yet foolish Mr. Graf who tried to save his remains from their diabolical hunger."
The sun set behind the horizon...
Mr. Graf and Mr. Hadow were killed by vampires. Night 1 begins and will end in 72 hours. Remember that in Vampire, Night is the lynching phase.
((OOC: Could a kindly moderator move this thread to Structured Games. Renfield will bake you some yummy cookies...))
Player List: 42
The Villagers have survived! All two of them!
Most Recent Update: 01/11/2008 01:16 am EST The Living (2)
Atreyu the Masked Llama
The Dead (40)
Pwenet - Thrown to the wolves Night 1 Eldritch Knight - Killed Day 1
Khaldan - Death by Cannon Explosion Night 2
Stu42 - Death by Cannon Explosion Night 2
Banjo1985 - Killed Day 2 Andre Fairchilde - Defenestrated & Wolf-Chow Night 3
Flying Elephant - Shot to death Night 3
Indurain - Shot to death Night 3
PirateMonk - Killed Day 3
Castaras - Death by Frenzy Night 4
Joosbawx - Death by Frenzy Night 4
Raeden - Death by Frenzy Night 4
Vuurmeester - Final Death by Sunlight Night 4
Zeratul - Death by Frenzy Night 4
Therarde - Death by Mob Madness Night 5
Raiser B1ade - Drained to Death Day 6
purple gelantinous cube o' Doom - Torn apart Day 6
Terumitsu - Torn apart Day 6 Alarra - Lynched / Sun-exposed Night 7 (Vamp)
Almighty Salmon - Murdered / Sun-exposed Night 7 (Vamp)
evnafets - Slain by vampires Day 7
Traveling_Angel - Slain by the Evoker in retaliation, Day 7 (Vamp)
radikalskippy - Commited Suicide, Day 7
Jeggred Von - Autolynched Night 8
Malmagor Andrigal - Lynched Night 09
Korias - Killed Day 09
Fleeing Coward - Lynched Night 10
Alarra - Lynched Night 11 (Vamp)
freshmeat_ Torn apart by the resurrected Troile, Night 11
Neodan282 - Autolynched Night 11 (Vamp)
Vonriel - Autolynched Night 11 (Vamp)
Pwenet - Autolynched Night 11
Pingcode20 - Autolynched Night 11 (Mina Murray)
Captain van der Decken - Autolynched Night 11
Haruki-kun - Killed Day 11
Lord Fullbladder, Master of Goblins - Lynched Night 12
Jontom Xire - Killed Day 12
ZombieRockStar - Lynched Night 13
Andre Fairchilde - Burned to death Day 13
Hyramgraff - Lynched Night 14
Zar Peter - Killed Day 14
Ichneumon - Lynched Night 15
Eldritch Knight - Killed Day 15
Ink - Lynched Night 16.
Navi Plaguelord courtesy of "Make yourself a Navi" website plus some ingenuity on my part...
Werewolf Awards: 'Best Narration: Helgraf' Rabbit says stuff that makes me blush.
Lord Skippy from Goddamnfarshire gets down his carriage, takes a snuff box and a handkerchief. After sniffing, he covers his nose. London has always smelled like this... It smells like rotten flesh and blood everywhere. I need a place to settle and begin the scheme to hunt down all those cursed Vampires... I need to know where to start... You there!"He says, pointing at Andre Fairchilde "Do you know something about the Children of the Night?"
So I herd you liek Mudkipz by Mr. Saturn
Many thanks to both Mr Saturn and B-Man for their avatars!! Antiform Sora, Haloween Sora, Majora's Mask Link, Wolf Link & Midna, KH Sora and Christmas in July Sora
From one of the roof tops on one of the highest buildings of London, two big yellow eyes gaze into the night. They belong to Ichneumon, the anthropomorfic wasp. He searches the crowds of people below. He knows they are there. Vampires, vampires. They are here. I must stop them. Slowly he climbs down. He never understood how some people could attain the dexterity to crawl on walls. He always had difficulty climbing walls. It must be some kind of gift, I wish I would learn that one day.
Walking through the crowd he suddenly stops. He points at Ink .You! You must know more. You must help me defeat all those vampires. I can see it in your eyes. You must know more.
Last edited by Ichneumon : 09-25-2007 at 11:35 AM.
A rickety old coach drawn by an ugly looking horse. A bent old man drops out with the help of an old cane that looks almost as wizened as him. He wears a plain white jacket and a cream tie, everything else he wears and carries is black, except for the banjo strapped over one shoulder.
Old Man Jenkins walks through the doors and takes a look around the musty old building.
" Eh, I've seen better."
The hosts demise and the wolves outside diminish his bravado somewhat.
"Vampires? Wolves? What the hell is going on here?! Is that the scream of the dead that I hear? No...it seems to have stopped now at least. Ahhhhh a creature of the night!?Old Man Jenkins points at the Cassie Kitty that just walked through the door.
((Now Ink's deleted his early post my point doesn't make sense, so I've changed it at random))
Sliding his knife out from between the ribs, the thug's lifeless body slumped to the cold cobblestones of the manor's back room. The mist escaped through the deadly wound as the life ebbed from the corpse. The scared chamber maid with the torn dress shook in shock as a few tears streamed down her face.
"Easy now girl. Rest easy. This big lug'll not harm ye anymore, not in this life, anyhow."
Jeggred sheathed his dagger into his coat and Looked to the dead criminal.
"Auch! That is one fine looking coat you have there, M'lord." Jeggred spoke to the dead thug, smirking and putting his hands on his waist.
Jeggred bowed low, flourishing his hand out wide to the sobbing prostitute, before turning to exit the back room. Jeggred pulled his collar up on his new longcoat and dipped his head low, looking right under the brim of his huge feathered hat....both taken from the thug. He tossed his old longcoat to the chambermaid and picked up his violin, plucking a few strings as he walked to the main hall's doorway.
Spotting a stranger, Jeggred points a gloved finger at Khaldan and walks back through the doorway into the manor's kitchen.
Korias snores loudly, tossing and turning on his old sleeping mat. *Snore*....*Paunch*.... *Murmur*... He sleeps soundly, only to wake up with a dazed look on his face. Hungry... he lurches towards Khaldan, and says Say, Mate... Could ya bring me an apple? I havent had a good one in ages. Now that he's standing up, you can see his attire, grubby as it is. He wears a long pirate's coat, unfastened and strewn with streaks of dry mud. His face is covered in dirt, and his hair matted in many places. Beneath his coat is a simple brown (Or mud covered, its hard to tell) shirt and pants. Well mate? I'd be loving me an apple right about now...
50 Silver a month to cover expenses and travel. It's an honor to be selected. Only the most holy, the most righteous complete training. The most justified...
What they don't explain is the temptations. You arrive in a town and everyone is pointing "Witch" at one another. Some of the finger pointing - if not all is for personal reasons; vendetta, greed, lust, whatever.
Sometimes the accused is rich, and there are a lot of people that can benefit from a merchant no longer holding the town in it's debts....
Sometimes the accused is a wife, a mother, a girlfriend, a brother, a father, or a teacher - any of which has cheated, lied, stolen, or lusted after the wrong person. Sometimes it's about revenge.
The opportunistic see me as a solution, the righteous fear me... but those that should fear me - the wicked - know me as what I really am... a Knights Templar Witchhunter.
I don't really care if the wife has been cheating, but I'll burn the house down anyway. If there is the tiniest chance the infestation of evil exists - it must be expunged in the holiest of fires.
I don't really care if the merchant owns the town through debt, if he is the son of the devil and a Vampire - I will cut his head off and stake it to the roof of a church.
Today, I am here to ask Alarra some questions.
"see the little angels rise up high, how do they rise up, rise up, how do they rise up high?"
Last edited by Andre Fairchilde : 09-25-2007 at 09:04 PM.
A large man in a brown coat walks into the Mansion. He looks exotic, his clothes ragged and torn. While he seems friendly, you can immeiately tell this is a man who's seen his share of Night creatures.
As he joins in conversation, he talks about the places he's seen in Europe, Africa, and Asia, fighting the demonic beasts in said places.
We must be very careful. You never know where they might show up. In the meantime, might I ask how things are around here? And why is that Andre Fairchilde pointing at that woman?
He is... the most interesting Angel in the world.
"I don't always keep spreadsheets over crazy voting patterns on the first day. But when I do, I'm the one running the game."
As soon as the half-wasp/half-human walks to Ink, ready to question him, Ink suddenly disappears in a pink cloud of deleted posts..... As soon as the cloud vanishes, it is clear that Ink has left the scene...
Strange, where could he have gone?
A small voice in his head tell him it is not important.
How could it be not important? He just turned into a pink cloud of smoke? Where could he be? How did he do that?
The voice tells him that there are more important things to do.
So he forgets about Ink and walks away, still a bit confused.
Last edited by Ichneumon : 09-25-2007 at 12:27 PM.
"The maaaster made it all better for him.
Now he's ready to feed the master and give him strength, as you will if you stay....
Yes you will....
Renfield shakes his head and his eyes clear for a moment.
No master. I cannot.
"Save yourselves, all of you. Risk the night air and RUN!"
LLama says: Of course, the game would also have been more balanced if you all would learn not to trust Shadow
no matter what game he's in or role he has. Duos says: I've read the archives... and Shadow frankly scares the bejeesus outta me. It's like playing with a
hypothetical cross of Lex Luthor and professor Moriarty.
If he was made of SPIDERS.
*From the stables, there is an NPC who has heeded Renfield's advice and is saddling up Mr. Hadow's first class pedigreed riding llama to escape.
(You know, being a 1st class pedigree is much more glamorous than being a nag. )
*As the man throws open the gates, he kicks the llama in the sides to spur him on, but the beast stays rooted to the ground. The llama hears the howling and feels something out there. It refuses to budge. The man swears loudly and goes to run back into the manor. The llama follows the man and forces himself into the house. The NPC curses and tries to shoo the beast away, but it refuses to go back outside. After spitting rather rudely on the NPC, the llama tries to get farther into the house to get away from the doors and windows.*
__________________ inner circle Legionary of Resiliance
I love my Ceikatars!
The waspman hides inside the house. He doesn't think. His thoughts are at a minimal level as he knows that if there are any complex thoughts to be made the voice will make them. He only knows one thing, the vampires must die.
He closes one of his eyes. Listening to the everlasting alien music in his head.
Yes, I can wait. Let them come, let them come.
Last edited by Ichneumon : 09-25-2007 at 02:08 PM.
Being very busy with other games, I'm not sure how heavily I'll RP this one. We'll see...for now though.
I point at Korias. On the grounds that he was the first one to second a point. Trying to start a bandwagon? Perhaps, but it's the first day night, and that's about the most we have to go on. I'm not going to point at Andre just because he didn't "give Alarra a chance".
Masquerade Indy by Gnomish Wanderer
Originally Posted by Mustiado
Still think that was an epic prank, *snip* Kudos, gentlemen.
The sound of gay French dancing music whirls dizzily from a mansion on the outsirt of London; the most atmospheric of the capitals of the wrold this night. The mist eddies eerily acrosss the vast grounds and winds its way through the dark towering ppines and evergreens lininng the gravel drive.
As the music ecstatically roars to a fever ppitch of geteel frenzy faint raucous laughter can be heard coming from the downstairs*; a child or stablehand looking enviously in from the dank outdoors will see a perplexing scene. Very perplexing indeed.
A girl of high standing, in single girl who should be at the ball being courted is in th kitchen slurping beer and eating bread and dripping with the help! But then you wipe away the mist on the flawed glass and realise it is only Lady Clara. Lady Clara, the most eccentric of all the debutantes for near a score of years. You relax and enter the kitchen boldly, lnowing iith certainty that she'll offer you a small something to eat. "Hey, Charlie. Fancy a bit o' dripping tonight." Lady Clara is talking normal talk this night so you answer back in kind. "Thank you Miss Clara." Seizing the dripping from Lady Clara you pass along an interesting tidbit; "Apparently, Mr. Graf and 'is servant Silas were bit to death by some Children of the NIght. although evryone really thinks it's just
Lord Fullbladder out for the lands again Miss." Lady Clara laughs coasely and nods for the gossip to continue. You relax and enjoy the warmth tonight, companionable with all present.
*downstairs - a very much British euphemism for the servants quarters and the place where alol the wrok gets done Except the cleaning, naturally darling.
((For all to note: Lady Clara is the PC of Curly. Charlie is just an NPC or tool to pass along the less refined gossip my character may or may not have heard. Point at Lady Clara to help the Narrators will you? Oh, Narrators; I may not always be able to post within the usual autolynch limits so could you grant me some grace with the autolynch rule please.))
Stepping forth from his room in a well-to-do inn, Terumitsu adjusted his hair in passing and looked at the streets with bland contempt. Such a dirty town... But buisness called him and he must answer. He notices a movement of something behind a window and gives Ichneumon a rather unkind look for his odd actions.
Alarra stands at the window of a neighboring manor, watching the fog creep across the grounds with an impending sense of dread. A wolf howl in the distance sends a chill along her spine and she clutches her dressing gown closer around her shoulders. She squints through the gloom toward the neighboring walk and catches a glimpse of a large figure in the moonlight, entering the mansion. She glares (points) at him (Haruki-kun), wondering what he is up to.
A knock from below draws her attention and she turns to head downstairs.
She pauses near the foot of the stair, one hand trailing along the ornately wrought iron railing, as she listens to her butler addressing the man at her step.
"The hour is late good sir, the lady is likely abed. As ought you be. Ill night to be moving about."
"Questions? I dare say you ought return to ask them in the morn.. There's an inn up yonder, I dare say they might put you up the even."
"Robert..." A voice like silk caresses the air, interrupting the conversation and causing both men to turn toward the elegant woman crossing the foyer. "It's alright. He's not awakened me." She smiles at the guest. "An ill night indeed and twould be a remiss hostess that would send you back into it."
She draws the man inside, allowing Robert to close the door and begins to head toward the drawing room. "Questions you say? Of me? I dare say you'll not find me of much interest. Although you are of course most welcome to ask."
"Robert will bring us some tea to ward against the chill evening."
She glances at the small, disapproving butler once more before leading Mr. Andre into the other room. "Do prepare a suite for our guest, won't you."
She smiles once more. "Forgive me sir, I've not even learnt your name."
(Andre, should you not want to have begun questioning Alarra right away, forgive me for taking control of the situation. Hope you don't mind if I npc'd you a mite. Also, I dare say that most of my posts won't be this involved, nor will I have a great deal of time to devote to this game, as school is being insane.)
I was outzombied by the baby!
Originally Posted by Amotis
Alarra ate all my awesome and now she's always acknowledged as awe-inspiring awesome. Alliteration aside, Alarra is awesome.
Lurking in an alley, Decken gazes at the witch hunter with slight awe, before spotting Lord Skippy. He scuttles down the road, and pausing to give the kitten a kick, follows his lordship while making faces.
I WILL round this Cape, even if I have to keep sailing until doomsday!
Engaged in A Spat with Jibar.
Decken by Ceika
Devil Lord-to-be and proud member of the Baatezu Lovers club!
Last edited by Captain van der Decken : 09-25-2007 at 05:09 PM.