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1

Laboratories / Re: Of Missions and... Berserkers? : The Crazy Lives of Assassins

« on: April 01, 2009, 03:07:18 AM »

Both Airis and Kaid looked incredulously at the wounded shifter. Well, Kaid was more expressive in a sense that he was looking at her with undisguised dislike. In fact, before all of this started, hadn’t the half-djinn had that sort of feeling towards the woman? Only Airis was the one that prevented him from shooting his mouth like he was wont to do.

“Idrial,” Airis started to speak, his tone very gentle, still smiling though there was something in his eyes. “I am thinking that you are mistaken about which book that is in question, here.”

“Hell yeah,” Kaid snorted and as predicted, Airis ignored him; his focus was now fixed onto the shifter.

“Besides, you understand that orders are orders. To disobey would come with a heavy price. You’re a high apprentice, you know that. I hope that what you are suggesting is not... mutiny?” Airis went on.

For a high apprentice to even consider such a thing was blasphemous. If anyone of them on this impromptu mission were to report this, the consequences would be extremely severe for her.

Despite Airis’ gentle tone, there was a slight inflection there that gave it a more authoritative quality in warning. This wasn’t Airis, the easy-going, often taken advantage of, ever-smiling man that was talking; this was Airis the highly experienced master. Without saying it out loud, his eyes spoke volume, seeming to say ‘Careful where you tread, high apprentice. Remember your limits’.

The human amongst them gave a nod in acknowledgement towards Antmur\'ssdrol, thinking that after this was over, he would be making good remarks in his report for the Cruori apprentice. “I have taken into consideration of the past history of students who have... revolted against the academy. But what he has said is correct, that it is much easier to deal with a student than with a Lich,” he continued, turning to give a polite nod to their night time trespasser, smiling indulgently. “No offense to you, good sir,” he added on almost cheekily. After all, in a roundabout way, he was praising the Lich.

Kaid was grumbling to himself about high apprentices who don’t know their place. It was obvious to the potions master that Idrial was ruining their unity with all her talk about disobedience. “Are your wounds affecting your ability to think, woman? We protect our students by preventing anyone from harming them under our noses. If everyone were to think your way and destroy every single artefact that might cause damage, then we won’t be an assassin academy, would we? The system would crumble because then, no one would hire us. Defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?” he spat out unkindly at the injured shifter. Dying or not, Kaid was never one to mince his words.

Airis sighed. “Forgive my friend’s harsh words but understand that we do have our students’ welfare in mind, Idrial. Before every mission, we take into consideration the possible drawbacks. Pertaining to yours, we have already engaged services with a highly skilled healer who has expertise in dark inflicted wounds.” He turned his gaze towards the Lich then and smiled apologetically. “Perhaps in the morning when you have lodged an official complaint, we would look into the matter.”

“Yeah, go back to whichever rock you crawled out from,” Kaid added with a growl, gnashing his teeth.

2

Laboratories / Re: Of Missions and... Berserkers? : The Crazy Lives of Assassins

« on: March 11, 2009, 10:38:59 PM »

The moment Kaid deemed that the bout of healing he did for the shifter was adequate enough, he took a few steps away from her, acknowledging her non-verbal gratitude with a mirroring dip of his chin. Just as well that he decided that there should be ample distance between them because if not, he would surely have gotten wretchedly wet when Idrial did that rather convenient trick with the storm cloud.

Despite his flippant exchange with their foe, the half-djinn didn’t miss the pessimistic, gloomy forecast with regards to her life coming from the high apprentice so he shot her an appropriate scowl. “Don’t be so quick to predict your death, woman. Surely you can’t have met every single expert on the subject of dark afflictions,” he spat out, displeased that she was so quick to accept her fate, an outcome which was still all speculation at this point! Besides, why was the elf so damn sure that there was absolutely no one competent enough to even provide a second opinion?

Following that, the way Idrial all but threw the wanted book (thankfully said book wasn’t physically in her grasp) made not only Kaid but also Airis, to stiffen. The argument raised by the Cruori apprentice was valid to a certain extent. The book shouldn’t be returned (what on earth was Idrial thinking?) but it shouldn’t be destroyed either. Whoever knew what valuable titbits they could find?  

No one had ever said that the assassin academy was all for the good.

“Hmph. If living forever isn’t that great, just drop dead already, why don’t ya?” the half-djinn muttered under his breath though not really making that much effort in hiding his retort. Kaid really had guts, that’s for sure. Again, Airis shook his head at his friend’s attitude, bemused and knowing that whatever he said wouldn’t change the poisons master. The only human amongst them cleared his throat to gain the attention of the Lich.

“I do have to agree with you, that the book is dangerous and any attempts at harming it would cause... unfortunate results,” Airis spoke out softly, as polite as ever as he rose to his feet and leaning a bit against a nearby tree, his pleasant smile in place as always. The man agreed with the Lich because of what had transpired earlier in his mission room. “If you had approached us by means of proper channel to request for your property to be returned to you, I am most certain that we could have come to a more peaceful solution. It is imperative that we protect our students here at the academy, and by extension, their personal belongings as well. If we had found that she was in fact in possession of something that does not belong to her, we would have taken the measures to rectify that issue. However, it first needs to become an issue, and only if you were to raise a formal complaint. Otherwise, we would only assume that your unsolicited visit would be to harm the student under our care because of her transgression. And as I have said before, we really look after our own. Given a worldly man such as yourself with, perhaps, followers of your own, surely you would understand our reasoning?”  

The master’s delivery was smooth and he was not daunted in the least; his petit and frail form stood tall – albeit supported by the tree at his back – and he didn’t even cough once! It was such a miracle that his unfaltering smile actually widened further at the end.

3

Laboratories / Re: Of Missions and... Berserkers? : The Crazy Lives of Assassins

« on: March 05, 2009, 05:09:27 AM »

(Hey guys! Sorry for the super long wait! Been very busy with my school assignments and stuff >_< )

“What? You don’t want to live forever?” he replied to the Cruori apprentice with a touch of mock aghast in his tone, not fazed in the slightest by the grim up curl of the other male’s lips. “I think that it would be fun to be immortal,” he began conversationally, though keeping his eye trained on their current foe, “and apparently, so does Sir Stick and Bones over there.” Not that he could really tell if the Lich was smiling because he was being his lovely, cheery self or because that’s generally how skulls seem to appear – ever smiling.

It was a bit disturbing to have the thought of Airis suddenly flash into his mind’s eye.

Sliding his gaze momentarily over at the shifter, he quickly took stock of her and was immensely relieved that she had taken his advice and had ceased her foolish, self-destructive methods. Really, it was a classic case of pot calling the kettle black because if Kaid weren’t appointed the leader of their ragtag band, he would surely have gone all out much likes Idrial. This was a perfectly good reason why he hated being mission commander so much. As can be seen, he obviously wasn’t any good at strategising.

This mission was going straight to hell.

But what was this? Not only was Idrial more calm than he could ever imagine her to be, the Lich was also following up on the shifter’s conversation thread? The intruder even went as far as to change back to his human self!

Not knowing whether this was a trap or not, the half-djinn narrowed his eye at the Lich even as he made his way carefully over to where Idrial was with intention to lend a healing hand. It was obvious that her injuries were serious, especially the one infected by dark magick. Kaid wouldn’t be able to do anything about that one, but the rest of them he could probably heal them a bit, at least so that the high apprentice wouldn’t pass out from blood loss.

Placing a palm that was faintly emitting a soft glow of green light onto the woman’s shoulder gently, he allowed his own miniscule healing magick to do the work. Idrial should feel a burst of warmth along the wounds she had gained and would probably feel a bit lightheaded. In the meantime, he bared his teeth in a sharky grin at the Lich.

“Forgive me if I sound rude,” he responded though not sounding at all apologetic in the slightest. “But for you to have ruined my night, I truly don’t see any pleasure in having met you. Although I must say you do look better now than the bony thing you were before.”

“Kaid, that is just rude!” Airis gave a reprimanding tut from afar, shaking his head at the half-djinn who merely grinned back. The frail-looking master then turned to the Lich and smiled pleasantly at him. Only Airis would do that, smiling at the one who almost slaughtered them all.

“This book of yours was taken by your apprentice you say... who happens to be a student of ours?” Of course, the master was intelligent enough to connect the dots together and had high suspicions on who it was.

4

Old Roleplays / Do Not Disturb - The person is already disturbed enough

« on: February 12, 2009, 06:06:00 AM »

(Reserved)

Click, click, click... click.

The sounds of the mouse clicking away seemed deafening in the otherwise silent room. In fact, the whole building was silent which was a given considering the late hour. A quick glance at the corner of his laptop screen informed the sole occupant of the time; it was close to two in the morning. In other companies, it might be odd for the CEO to be working overtime, especially when all of his employees had already retired for the day. But for Snow, it was the norm.

It wasn\'t that he didn\'t trust his senior accountant. No, trust wasn\'t the issue, not exactly. In the ice demon\'s case, he was just being his little diligent, perfectionist self. Nothing more, nothing less. If he had problems with trusting others to do their job, he would have done everything himself instead of employing people to do the work. Why on earth would he want to make his life difficult? He was a perfectionist, not an idiot. If there are people who would be willing to work for him for the measly salary he provided (he was also stingy to boot), why shouldn\'t he squeeze their souls dry while he was at it?

But when it comes to money, or rather because it concerned money, he would go over the accounts over and over again so as to ensure that there were no mistakes. Which was why he was where he was at the moment, stabbing furiously at the number keypad attached to his laptop. More and more digits filled his screen as twin chips of ice darted left and right, up and down to take in the figures, his face as impassive as ever.

Other than his eyes and his fingers, nothing else of him moved; the perfectly still and upright posture of his was not breaking a sweat despite having sat there for over five hours. Of course, with five air-con units in his office set at their lowest temperatures, how could anyone normal even perspire? Actually if he was one to complain, he might have said that it wasn\'t cold enough. It also seemed that even his clothes – a mauve striped shirt matched with a charcoal flannel faintly checked pants – held not even a slight crease since he donned them that morning. Hell, even his black, silk tie wasn\'t bent out of shape.

It was just... perfect. He was perfect. And everything would continue to be perfect if nothing were to disturb him for the duration it took to complete the accounts. After all, what could possibly disrupt his greatly focused train of thought at such a late time in the rather empty building that was relatively some distance away from the busier parts of town?

5

Retired Forums / Lovell & Co

« on: February 12, 2009, 05:52:56 AM »

Company Name: Lovell & Co.

Location: 3 Upper Thompson Road (Hot Property)

Nature of Business: Exhibition and Trade Fair Organiser


[Building]
Situated in the more secluded section of the recreational area stands an impressive modern architecture, a clever fusion of glass and steel to create this three-storey office building, with a covered parking lot located behind the building itself.



[Reception]





[Pantry & Lounge Area – First Level]
A full-time chef is employed to handle the kitchen. The lounge area is decked with luxury sofas, four LCD televisions, two pool tables and a fully stocked bar. Of course, Snow doesn\'t really encourage drinking during working hours but as long as work is completed at the end of the day, he doesn\'t get anal about it. Much.





[Staircase]
Each floor of the building is accessible by elevator as well as the two sets of spiral, glass staircases; each is situated in the east and west corner wing of the building.





[Staff Office – Second Level]
Snow has a thing for glass and he employs the use of them quite a lot in the interior design of the staff office. An example is shown below with the different departments and sections cordoned off by panels of glass.





[Snow\'s Office – Third Level]
Located on the third level in the far corner of the west wing, Snow’s office room itself is large and airy. Meticulously neat and tidy at all times, one would wonder where he stashes all his paperwork. Everything is of course cleverly hidden out of sight which not surprising for Snow who is practically allergic to any sort of mess. Also because of the fact that he is an ice demon, his office is equipped with five units of air-conditioning that are always blasting on their lowest setting (he had intended to install more but unless he wanted to broadcast the fact that he was no mere human, he had grudgingly settled for five – more than enough to make anyone question his... uhh... thick skin).





[Pool]
A frosted glass sliding door off to the side of Snow\'s office leads to his own personal pool. Not that he frequently dips in it but having a body of water near him at all times is for his comfort as well as his own indulgence in shaping ice whenever he wishes. By right, if added together with his office, Snow\'s total \'area\' actually takes up more than half of the third floor.



Note: Despite this being his actual legal trade, he occasionally conducts his illegal dealings here as well but of course those times are always after office hours. Only a handful of people who are legally employed by Snow also participate in his illegal businesses.

(If anyone wants to be employed by Snow, feel free to PM me! ^_^)

6

Laboratories / Re: Of Missions and... Berserkers? : The Crazy Lives of Assassins

« on: January 16, 2009, 10:40:45 PM »

Sarcasm from the unknown apprentice was not lost on Kaid and he shot the other a baleful glare as he retorted over the noise. “What are the chances that we\'re going to die a very painful death right here? Can you imagine the shock people are going to get, dying within the academy\'s walls?” Either Kaid was very confident that he was not going to get slaughtered so easily, or he might very well have a death wish because striking up a conversation in the midst of an ongoing battle was not something highly trained assassins\' were taught.

Well, it seemed that him and the Cruori kid weren\'t the only ones engaged in some sort of conversation, because hearing the Lich and the shifter emoting all over the battlefield just made him want to roll his eye, find the nearest tree and watch as the drama unfold. And so much for trying to do something to the sword, not when it seemed to have a life of its own, or rather the enemy could wield the damn thing without even being near it. There goes Plan A.

Moving on to Plan B... which he was still trying to come up with. By the way, had he just been insulted? Kaid, arrogant? Seriously? “Like hell I am, you bastard,” he scoffed, landing onto the floor on his feet without so much as a sound as though he were as light as a feather. “Are we starting a debate here?” he drawled out, relaxing his stance somewhat, but not by much, still gripping the handle of his weapon firmly. “I really don\'t give a damn about who did what wrong but as far as I\'m concerned, we\'re not being unfair as you put it,” he said, eyeing the Lich. “You coming into these walls uninvited gives us grounds to attack you. End of story. What, did you think we would have invited an intruder to tea or something?”

“A drinking session, that was what we were having before we were so rudely interrupted,” came the ever helpful comment from a smiling Airis.

“Right. Whatever. In any case, if you did not come here looking for a fight, you should not be here in the first place. Wait, did I not mention earlier something about politely asking people to regain what was lost?” the half-djinn shook his head, clearly bemused. “And Idrial, please pace yourself if you don\'t want to commit suicide with your own magick.”

Who knows, maybe a debate would buy them time before more backup came. After all, they were in the academy\'s territory.

7

Old Roleplays / Re: Our Demons Within...

« on: January 16, 2009, 04:01:34 AM »

In a way, Devon was sort of glad that this guy he happened to pick up was of the supernatural sort. Just thinking that if it were to happen to the regular, oblivious folks, he was sure as hell that this little incident would not be dealt with such blase attitude. More likely than not it would have involved a lot of horrified screams, more bloodshed, hacked up body parts, the police... relatively something out of a horror show. It wasn\'t even hard to imagine that he probably would have ended up with a very dead houseguest.

So, yeah, he had to admit that he was sort of glad... but whatever.

It was late and he didn\'t want to speak or think anymore on what had transpired just hours before nor was he in any state of mind to get into any sort of discussion on what was wrong with him. So it wasn\'t that surprising that he acknowledged the need for sleep that quickly. If Reave were to continue with that particular conversation, Devon would have chosen to go to bed himself. But of course the the other beat him to it.

Not that it mattered one bit because with the current problem he faced trying to get rid of his top without risking further pain, nothing else really did matter. “I don\'t think you did more of a number on me,” he grumbled, “Just so happens that you heal faster than me, that\'s all. Anyway, I don\'t remember anything of the fight so it\'sa bit unfair to judge yourself the so-called winner.” Why the hell was he being indignant all of a sudden? But that train of thought flew out the window the moment he heard the rip of his shirt. At least it was already in tatters, otherwise the blond would have thrown a fit. “Thanks,” he said instead, letting out a small grunt when he finally managed to get rid of the top with little problem. As he inspected his shoulder, he made a disgusted face. “Man, that\'s just nasty...” he said with a small shudder, though somehow finding it hard to tear his gaze away from the mauled flesh. Suprisingly he was still coherent and standing, not flat on his back or sick to his stomach. Maybe it was due to having the right company.

Tossing his ruined shirt into the corner, getting rid of his pants was a piece of cake and he quickly changed into clean drawstring pants, not bothering with undergarments. As he silently debated whether or not he should put a top on, he turned to Reave and collected the man\'s torn and dirty set of clothes, adding them to the pile in the corner. “You sure you\'re alright?” he asked suddenly, eyeing the redhead intently, taking in his form to see how badly injured he was and if there was anything he could do about it. He didn\'t think he could sleep knowing that the other was probably in pain even if he didn\'t show it.

Hah. As if I could sleep at all after this.

8

Old Roleplays / Re: Our Demons Within...

« on: January 02, 2009, 05:48:21 PM »

“That whole full moon concept... might be a myth for all I know. Much like how vampires are afraid of crosses and garlic. In the end, what do we, the normal people, know of the supernatural?” He snorted then, finding it somewhat amusing that he still considered himself to be one of the \'normal people\'. Wasn\'t the freaky healing ability a solid enough proof that he was far from normal? If not that, then how about the blackouts, the dreams, the feeling that he had never outrightly admitted to himself or to anyone that something about him was so fucking not right?

Feeling the scrutiny of the redhead\'s gaze, Devon shifted uncomfortably on the bed, trying to subtly move out of the other\'s range of observation. But unless he was going to throw himself off the bed, it was an unsuccessful attempt at evasion. Having little choice but to listen, Devon merely picked on the nonexistent lint upon the comforter though the movement of his fingers shook ever so slightly the more he heard of Reave\'s \'story\'.

Weird purple eyes... that caught his attention, recalling the glimpses in his dreams, usually a reflection of some kind. Blackouts? Voices? Check and check. Great, just fucking great. His life couldn\'t possibly get any more worse, could it?

“Sometimes... I wake up and I\'m in bed and there\'s... blood... caked under my fingernails. Not my blood at all I think, and I have no idea how it got there,” he quietly inserted, almost talking to himself, as though thinking out loud, trying to put two and two together. How was he to know that sometimes, when he was sleeping, his body was misappropriated? Just the thought of waking to find blood that wasn\'t his own on his person was disturbing as hell. And so, it didn\'t really take all that much to convince him that indeed, he might have some sort of a split personality disorder that bordered on the supernatural kind.

Devon let out a small sigh, fingers curling upon the coverlet, looking even more upset than before and he finally lifted his head, blinking owlishly at Reave, more specifically at how scary he can look if he put his mind to it instead of appearing so spacey most of the time. Grumpy too, probably because the man was tired, a fact that the blond noticed despite how the other had tried to hide his yawn. “Bed? Yeah. Okay.” But since it was so unlike him to easily submit if he wasn\'t on the job, he instantly scowled at the other and he almost wanted to say that he wasn\'t a spirit and that he didn\'t really like him either. “Like hell we\'re going to bed, not with these clothes on,” he sniffed haugtily instead, gathering the scattered remains of his composure and attempting to act more like himself and possibly save his bed in the process.

He quickly retrieved a clean set of clothes for both himself and his guest, tossing the new set to the other man much like the first time. “And just so you know, the only reason you are allowed in my bed is because the couch is not in any condition for – ow fuck!” he suddenly hissed in pain as he attempted to romove his T-shirt but only managing to jostle his injured shoulder. If he couldn\'t get it off, he might have to dirty his bed after all.

9

Laboratories / Re: Of Missions and... Berserkers? : The Crazy Lives of Assassins

« on: December 28, 2008, 04:39:04 PM »

(Ack! Sorry for the long wait guys. >_< By the way, don\'t you think that at some point, there\'ll be backup arriving on the scene? It\'s a bit unrealistic that the battle is taking place in the academy itself yet no one else is coming lol)

It was very foolish indeed if Kaid thought that he could pull of the distraction manoeuvre. As he had suspected, his needles were no good. As if someone as ridiculously powerful as the Lich would be easily distracted because he sure as hell saw through the half-djinn\'s move for the next thing Kaid knew, his blade had scored a hit, but unfortunately not upon its intended target. The wall of rock crumbled upon the surface as it took the brunt of his attack but it did not yield and he had no choice but to pull back.

And pulled back fast, rejoining the other two yet keeping some distance away from them – being clustered together was never a good strategy. As he watched as magick took centre stage between the creature and Idrial, he glanced over at Cruori Apprentice. “Not joining in?” he grunted, keeping his eye on the two, knowing that this was the type of fight that he was useless in.

The force of power that was pulsating through the tense air suddenly doubled as the Lich\'s weapon did something wicked that had Kaid\'s eye widen marginally, his head whipping towards the direction where Idrial was just as the crack of thunder resounded. “Idrial! Move the fuck away!” he roared out in warning, eyeing the sword warily and could only hope the shifter managed to remove herself out of that weapon\'s trajectory.

“The sword! It has to be the sword!” Airis\' voice suddenly rang out from afar and Kaid, without taking his gaze off Idrial, yelled back out, “What\'s the sword?!” Kaid could have sworn he had heard the other master used a very foul word in relation to the half-Djinn but it might have been his imagination seeing as Airis had never allowed such vocabulary to leave his lips, unless he was drunk.

“The phylacerty! It\'s his sword!”

Well. That made sense. In a seriously unpleasant way. The source of his power was actually his weapon? Just how were they going to get to it? To enter a battle where magick was essential would be suicide. “Suicide it is!” the half-djinn chirped almost happily as he vaulted into the air, trying to reach for the sword before the sword reached Idrial. His latest plan was to have Idrial distract the Lich since she was doing a good job of it so far, whilst he tried to ram the sword with a hard shove of his shoulder to forcefully change its course so that it will head towards the apprentice instead. He just hoped that the apprentice was ready with a plan, or at least a clue, on how to destroy the damn thing.

As Airis worriedly watched all of it on the sideline whilst keeping a steady hand on the injured Benson, he couldn\'t help but mumble to himself, “Well... I think it\'s the sword.”

10

Old Roleplays / Re: Our Demons Within...

« on: December 22, 2008, 01:02:17 AM »

When Reave glared at him (finally! Eye contact!), Devon simply glared back. The blond in a hissy fit was a sight to see; with his hackles raised he looked just about to claw your eyes out if he could. It usually surprised people when he showed his temper considering his (fake) sunny disposition, just another mask he wore around others. But now the mask was definitely cracking in his mounting rage. Well. At least he wasn\'t breaking down in tears. That was an activity best left for when in private.

“How the fuck should I know what you people think you\'re trying to do?! Why would I want to kill you? As if I even could!” he exploded, throwing his hands up in the air in an exasperated manner and instantly flinched before he brought his arms back down, gingerly poking at his injured shoulder still in the middle of healing itself. Fuck, he could feel his bones melding together on top of the sensation of his flesh knitting close – shock had worn off obviously because he can feel what he really didn\'t want to feel at the moment.

What the fuck had happened to cause the condition of his shoulder anyway? Did the werewolf who said he wasn\'t a werewolf took a chomp out of it? He hadn\'t even begun to catalogue all his injuries and glancing at the other, at the similar tattered, bloodied state of clothes he wore, he was sure that Reave had been equally hurt. Maybe more. And boy did that fuck up his conscience well and good; guilt was a shitty thing to feel.

Just like that, he deflated and sat back down onto the bed with a muted groan, his head turned away from the other, blond hair covering the side of his face as though to act as a veil between him and Reave. He didn\'t want to see the blood. “What the hell was I supposed to think? You didn\'t give me a straight answer when I asked if you were a werewolf or not earlier on and then with my place trashed... what sort of conclusion would you have drawn?” His tone was flat. Worn. Just... like he couldn\'t care less. Then he snorted out in bitter amusement. “Or maybe you\'re right. I\'m just fucked in the mind. I can go with that theory,” he shrugged and then winced when he jostled his still-healing shoulder.

It\'s not the first time I thought that about myself anyway. Good one, Red, good one.

“So if you didn\'t try to kill me, what exactly do you think happened?” At this point, he was curious. He didn\'t fully belief all that the other had said of course, but for some reason, there was something about it that bothered the blond.

11

Old Roleplays / Re: Our Demons Within...

« on: December 14, 2008, 10:40:19 PM »

In his room, his luxurious little sanctuary, Devon sat heavily down onto the edge of the bed, elbows perched onto his knees as he bent forward to cradle his head in his hands. The redhead\'s teasing was ignored in favour of trying calm his shaky inhales, attempting to breath normally. Being in his room and not out there made a whole lot of difference.

When the other entered his room, Devon didn\'t even look up. Only then did he realised that he should have thrown him out of his apartment instead of allowing him into his room. With a blank in his memory, waking up to find himself in pain and his living room trashed, and taking into consideration that the man was a werewolf, there was only one conclusion he could come up with: His \'guest\' tried to eat him. Certainly if he had been in his right mind he would have snapped a reply to the other\'s bantering along the lines of “You mean you didn\'t try taking a bite out of me?”.

Besides, weren\'t there supposed to be a slew of regulations when you were invited into someone\'s home? Like... oh say... not eating your host? Of course, Devon did not know what constitutes as a werewolf\'s etiquette but devouring someone seems very likely. Afterall, they were carnivorous creatures, weren\'t they? It was stupidity on the blond\'s part, he knew that much, for having invited such a creature into his apartment.

So it was that the next question thrown to him caused him to whip his body halfway around to stare at Reave, confounded. “W-what?! What the fuck are you talking about?” He truly had no idea what this man-eating prick was going on about. His expression quickly morphed into one of anger yet still retaining his confusion. “Excuse me, but correct me if I\'m wrong. Aren\'t you the monster here? You know, being a werewolf and all?”

It was very obvious that Devon had no idea what he was (he still didn\'t know why he had the ability to heal but that was a good thing - not in his opinion though - because otherwise, with the damage done to him, he would have woken up in the hospital. Or worse, not waking up at all. Now that wasn\'t such a bad thing as far as he\'s concerned), or what was inside of him. Or what had transpired just a few hours ago.  

In his anger, his shock had worn off. Thank god. “Last thing I remember was drinking coffee with you and the next thing I know, my place has been through a bit of remodelling. Without my being present. Not to mention I felt like someone just ran a bulldozer over me. Had to have been your doing, wasn\'t it?” The blond was on his feet now, fully facing the other male with his eyes narrowed, tension set like a ton of bricks upon his shoulders.

If he were to think back on this particular moment, he would have slapped himself silly. Who in their right mind would dare get all huffy when faced with something that could easily rip his throat out?

12

Laboratories / Re: Of Missions and... Berserkers? : The Crazy Lives of Assassins

« on: December 02, 2008, 11:22:42 PM »

Things were progressing quickly, too quickly for Kaid\'s liking because for one thing, the lot that he was rolling with were all of lower rank than he was, meaning that he was appointed the unofficial commander. And being that would also mean he would have to be in charge, and not just charge like Idrial and and the newcomer – what was his name? Doesn\'t matter.

What does matter was the startling revelation thrown at him by the apprentice regarding their foe – that they were dealing with a Lich. Lovely tidbit, that. One that caused him to swear out loud in a menacing growl. Armed with nothing but his poisoned needles, he knew for a fact that he would not stand a chance against it. Nor will the others if they didn\'t somehow band together and come up with a good plan. And Kaid was shitty when it comes to conjuring up good plans. Just wonderful.

A sudden thought came to him then, something about what he had learnt of Liches. As powerful as they were, they had one colossal weakness, had they not? Something along the lines of destroying that which was the source of their power... or something like that. And knowing what had been taught to him all those years ago about such creatures, he knew for a fact that they keep their power source close to them.

All they had to do was to find it.

Just then, the Lich decided to perform a nifty trick, one that had the half-djinn making a disgusted face. “Oh for the love of... please, keep your human form. This one is just shit ugly,” he snorted out as though he cared more for aesthetics rather than the impending battle as he firmly stood his ground despite the cracking earth and the burst of sinister, dark magic. Hah! Like he would be intimidated. As if he was going to listen to someone who had infiltrated the school grounds. “I hate people telling me what to do, you sick, ugly bastard. Whatever the fuck  happened to asking politely for something that you wish to regain?” he spat out. As if he was going to do as bid.

He realised then that the Lich was extremely fast and before he could even register it, the creature was behind him. Kaid immediately tensed up – at least he had drawn the attention away from the others, and he hoped that they remembered their lessons and would take the opportunity to find out what was the Lich\'s phylacerty – and with a speed that wasn\'t nearly as fast as his opponent but still fast enough, he had dropped to a crouch and forced the air beneath his feet to propel him forward to close the gap, angling his body to one side just ducking the sword. His hand that was tightly wound around a pair of his senbon shot out in an attempt to stab through the other, hoping against all hope that the thing wasn\'t immune to poison.

It was a risky move, but Kaid did it for a purpose – to distract – because just behind the Lich was his good friend Airis who had snuck up undetected and at the right moment when the half-djinn\'s free hand stretched out, the other master tossed with accuracy his scimitar which Kaid easily caught and swung in an arc right down the enemy\'s unguarded flank.

In the meantime, Airis had moved himself out of the danger zone, knowing that he wasn\'t in any form to fight. He decided that it was best he tend to Benson who looked to be seriously injured. As he passed by Idrial and... well, he knew of the apprentice from Cruori but he could never recall the man\'s name for it was ridiculously long and hard to pronounce, he shot them a severe look which one hardly ever see when he was acting as the Head of Missions Room. “Find the phylacerty and destroy it,” he sternly advised, shooting a look at Idrial that, for a sickly man, was sure intimidating as hell, silently telling her to curb her rage. Otherwise all will be lost.

13

Old Roleplays / Re: Our Demons Within...

« on: November 29, 2008, 04:36:13 AM »

It wasn\'t so much as a physical illness than it was an emotional one which induced the physical reaction in the form of the well-known Puke Your Guts Out syndrome. Thankfully, it didn\'t last all that long because there wasn\'t much that Devon could upchuck, no matter how much he retched.

Just as well, because suddenly the toilet started to flush by itself and the blond could only stare in a sort of dazed shock before a glass of water and a couple of pills were thrust into his face. Slowly he raised his head and only then did he remember that he had a guest tonight. He latched onto the halfbreed\'s face as it seemed to be the only thing that was chasing away the memories clamoring to the surface. And he should say something, shouldn\'t he? Like... what the hell did he do to his living room? Of course with the redhead being a werewolf (it wasn\'t yet confirmed but that fact hadn\'t been denied either), it was understandable that he should come to that assumption that Reave was to blame, wasn\'t it?

In the end, he didn\'t say anything but accepted the offer with shaky hands, popping the pills into his mouth (that still tasted of blood) and quickly washing them down with the water. He forced himself back onto his feet once the other had left, and spent a little bit of time splashing cold water onto his face, rinsing his mouth, combing still-trembling fingers through his hair before he deemed himself more or less composed and then re-emerged from the bathroom.

But despite the way he was trying to come off as calm and not as affected by whatever that had happened right in his apartment, he couldn\'t quite pull it off, not when he still appeared shocky –  slightly bluish-tinged lips trying to form a smile but failing, shallow breathing, and the way he was looking all over the disaster zone that was his living room numbly. He instantly felt sick again but  fortunately he didn\'t need the bathroom this time.

He seemed to have forgotten all about Reave when the man\'s voice startled him out of his funk like a slap to his face. “What?” Blinking owlishly at the other as though this was the first time he had met him, Devon shook his head slightly before the scene of his wrecked apartment distracted him once more.

Or rather, it was the splatter of dried blood all over the place that was distracting the blond.

“Fuck!” He abruptly wrenched his head away so that he couldn\'t fucking see anymore and crossed over to his bedroom. “My room,” he muttered. It wasn\'t quite an invitation but if the redhead wanted answers, he\'d best follow.

This was not the way Devon imagined he would have invited another into his bedroom.

14

Old Roleplays / Re: In the Face of Fire\'s Zeal

« on: November 23, 2008, 01:31:47 AM »

Snow blinked at the very large smile splitting across the other\'s face and he had this distinct feeling that the cat was forming an opinion of sorts, an opinion that, if the ice demon knew, would instantly be refuted. Still, he was taken aback when Alcide said that he was worried for him. Imagine that. For the first time, someone was worried for a cold-hearted bastard such as he. The frigid male truly didn\'t know what to make of it. And by the rather fetching, purring quality of it... well. He really didn\'t know how to respond to that!

He did, however, murmured a proper response to his statement about his twin, which rather boggled his mind. Alcide had a twin? And the world hadn\'t gone insane? How very... extraordinary. One of them had given Snow a headache, he couldn\'t imagine having met the two of them at the same time. Most likely his head would have imploded. Then again, maybe his twin was the saner of the two, one may never know.

“You should go then, ensure your twin\'s safety,” he finally murmured, giving the other consent to leave; he didn\'t mind at all. In fact, he wished Alcide had left long ago. The sudden feel of arms encircling him made Snow stiffen but he didn\'t push him away. And then, just as suddenly as he appeared, the feline was gone.

For a weird moment, he felt as though bereft of something but he couldn\'t put a finger on what exactly. Shaking his head lightly, he decided that he should take his leave as well and attend to his business which he should have done days ago. As he made his slow journey back, he suddenly recalled Alcide\'s parting words.

“I\'ll see you again anyway...”

And that\'s when, for the first time in a long time, Snow cursed. “Oh fuck.”

15

Laboratories / Re: Of Missions and... Berserkers? : The Crazy Lives of Assassins

« on: November 23, 2008, 12:53:03 AM »

At the sound of his name being yelled out frenetically, Kaid knew without a doubt that the situation had gone straight to hell. There were so many problems to address such as the one where they had a werewolf gone berserk, a werewolf who had a wound infected by dark magick, an elf about to be cut down by said werewolf and an intruder. The intruder was the one that posed the most problem because the half-djinn could tell that this was someone whom you would not want to mess with even on the bastard\'s good day.

“No need to yell! I can hear you perfectly fine!” he snapped out a reply to Benson, his eye darting back and forth from the duo engaged in combat to the man with the fucking huge weapon. His eye narrowed as he warily watched the approching form of the intruder, subtly tensing when he knew that he was in hot soup given that he didn\'t even have his scimitar along for the ride. But he was still an assassin and the rule of thumb is to never be caught without a weapon of some sort which was why his hand was reaching into the folds of his robe to grab at the poisoned senbon needles he had concealed. “I\'m here to kick the shit out of you, that\'s what I\'m here for,” he snarled and widened his stance just in case. However, it seemed that the other was only watching, and that unnerved Kaid even more.

The appearance of another behind him made him glance quickly over his shoulder before his attention back to one before him. “A dance performance," was his succint reply with a bit of a snort. "What does it look like? We have a dumb werewolf stricken with some dark magick-infested wound on a rampage and an intruder. Are you the backup? I sure hope that you know a thing or two about dark magick, like how to beat it the fuck out of the lovely lady over there,” he added in a mutter, telling him without being direct that he should haul his ass over to the duelling couple and rescue the poor elf before he was torn apart and be eaten or something to that effect. He had no idea who the newcomer was, but he had seen him around the school before.

The whole time he kept his gaze fixed upon the more dangerous foe as he spoke to the man behind him. “Or if you\'d rather gave a go with Sir Bastard over here, you can go right ahead.” Somehow, the master had a feeling that this particular foe was not here to engage himself in battle, more like an observer of sorts. Whatever the case, he had to get rid of him.

During their little chit-chat session, Kaid only hoped that Benson could hold out just a little bit longer.