Factions, Families, Clans, and Empires
An organization of slayers made to prune the troublesome within the population of demons, vampires, werewolves, and other supernaturals.
Image not mine.The Unwilling ProtectorAge:
250 lbsEye Color:
Dirty blondeSkin Color:
The Returning Slayer
Alt world, same appearance, slightly different attitude, vastly different history.
- Thaumaturgist's short sword
- Glock 22, silver rounds
- Light Binds - Often best against the undead, and forces that use powers of witchcraft and necromancy, this spell casts shackles of light to, of course, bind its target.
- The Warden's Thorns - Impales a target with spikes of light magic.
Cold, curt, and calculating, Duke is not the most social of men, nor is he the kindest of them. It is difficult to read his eyes, as they stay as frigid as an icy wasteland, and his mouth, just as silent. It takes patience to be with this man for that reason, and one cannot begin to mention his constant, brooding temper.
Duke Smith walked into the bar, his short, dirty blond hair and shoulders soaking wet. His skin was light, but one could tell he had a fading tan. Around his wet shoulders was a brown cloak, which hid his neck. The cloak seemed to bulge around his neck unusually, as if he was hiding something. As he walked, his thin-soled shoes were heard thumping onto the wooden floors.
Duke Smith sat at the bar silently, his sharp eyes darting around for a bartender. He shifted his position,and poked his arms through his cloak to lean them onto the counter. He was very muscular, but not bulky or overly rip. His wet hair dripped into his face.
Duke Smith spotted the bartender, but only paused for a long moment before calling out to her for a glass of water. His eyes were not friendly, but they never were.
Duke Smith thanked the bartender by nodding his head before raising the glass to his lips. He took a gulp and looked forward, as if brooding on something.
Duke Smith walks into the bar, heavy booths thumping onto the wood. He wore a black shirt, and over that was a cloak. Under the neck of the cloak was an unusual bulge, for that hid Duke's secret, his shame. His blond hair clung to his neck, and his eyes were piercing. He walked and sat at the counter.
Heavy boots thudded onto the floor, followed up by a rather well built man. He was toned for sure. It was evident underneath his loose shirt and breeches. He didn't look terribly like a lost, middle-aged lad, however. He wore a long, breezy trench coat. Fashionable, but not girly in any way. A good choice of clothing, Luli would have thought. In fact, she might have picked it out herself.
As the man looked around with his cold, dark eyes that had the likeness to stone, he curled one hand into a fist and repeatedly let go. He scratched the back of his neck briefly and stiffly sat down at the counter. There was something awfully wrong with him, it seemed. The way he scratched at the shirt collar around his neck. It had an unusual bulge under it.
The man felt eyes on him, and his eyes flickered upward to spot the red-haired girl. They delivered a cold look that just might have extinguished a real fire. The one within her just might have flickered a bit. He also came to notice the woman with brown hair and green eyes. Not anyone special, no. Not really.
He tapped in an order. It was simple. He knew how to use these touch-screen menu's. They weren't hard to figure out, and he really wasn't that old-timey. He just looked it.
The man perked up, looking back to the creature that he had previously looked over. And really, how did he do such a thing? It was...strange. Looked a bit like the birds back in Jedaris. Big, ugly things, they were. Kinda like this guy here. As he watched it try and get back into some kind of...skin...he promptly gave it a look that said 'what the...hell...are you doing?'
His attention was taken away once more as he heard someone speak. It was directed at him, no doubt. His stonelike gaze washed over her, his mouth pulled into a tight line. "Sometimes swords can kill what bullets don't," he said, voice low as he pulled open a flap to his coat, revealing a pistol, "And I'm not as unprepared as you think."
"Sure," he grumbled as he took another glance at the bird. Which now looked decidedly human, if he said so himself. Still extremely strange. A bit disgusting, even. He shuffled in his seat a bit uncomfortably, though his unmoving stature soon returned. "Sure there's no harm in it."
Mutterings, grumbles, and grunts. He did them all.
His stare returned to Raisa, even as his drink came and he gulped it down thirstily. A pint of ale. It was everything about home that he remembered and, well...
Sort of liked. He didn't love anything in the word. At least, it didn't seem so. Luli never thought it was possible, anyway. He wondered why the woman was so intent, but then again, he was doing the same staring game, wasn't he?
"I've been here too long to think like an idiot. Preparation is important. In a place like this, you need to prepare for modernized weapons, magic, and even psychics. There's event he occasional human bird-o-saur, like our friend over there." He said, gesturing to Septa with a tilt of his head.
"Whatever you wish," said the man, responding with a slightly amused grin. It didn't last long, however, and vanished quickly behind that stern expression he constantly carried. He took another sip of the beer, feeling himself relax, even the slightest bit. It would soon be lost, though, when he had to stalk back to camp. Damn woman. He did not want to go back to that. Not anytime soon. He scratched at his neck again. Whatever was under his shirt collar was awfully itchy.
"Duke," he responded to the brown-haired lass, though he didn't offer a hand. Just kept drinking and staring, as he often did.
September, Torture...all stranger names than his own, Duke thought. Whether they fit these two or not, he didn't know. "My parents...well, where I came from, it was a common name. M'not from earth. I'm from somewhere a bit...farther." Try three worlds over and a universe away.
"What, Torture isn't a nickname?" He supposed it was, but he couldn't be sure. As for...September...
Well, he wasn't sure what to think. Birdthing was strange. The fact that it could talk and it wasn't telepathy was stranger.
"Really? Well, they haven't caught me so far. I don't quite think I'll get into any trouble now," he said, finishing his ale. Well that was hardly pleasing. He hadn't even gotten a buzz. What complete and utter...oh, well, he didn't care, really. He just ordered another. "What about you? Come from this place?" He asked. Usually, he wouldn't indulge in conversation, but it felt better to speak to someone who didn't have the high-pitched voice of that girl back at camp. The annoying one.
His gaze shifted as a rather unpleasant smell wafted over to their spot of the bar. He wrinkled his nose shortly, shifting. He had half a mind to move, but he doubted it would make much difference. His cold eyes found the young grey-haired chick. Nasty. But this also had his eyes sweep over several other people. One was Kasdeyrian, the other the Montesqieiu brothers. They earned an extra-cold glare for they snootiness. Duke didn't really like their kind.
Oh, and there was Anodyne, some woman with a gun. She looked dangerous. That was sort of interesting.
The man had settled down into his seat, leaning against the wall. Now without company, maybe he could truly relax. Then again, the bar had become so crowded, and all of a sudden, that he felt he might not be alone for long. Then again, maybe his glare would keep some away. He certainly didn't care for any of the girls. All to young. He didn't care for the gang in the back, either. He was never much of a pack wolf.
However...something about that woman with the gun and the rubix cube...she caught his attention. He didn't know why.
Into Gambits came a well-toned man with a mop of brown hair that just fell past his earlobes and eyes as cold and unfeeling as stone. He looked about for the briefest moment, then did nothing more but seat himself at the counter. It was quieter here. There was that one woman, but it was still a lot quieter. A break from camp, at least.
He wore a black trench coat over a button-down shirt and loose pants. The neck to his coat, thankfully, hid everything upon his neck that he needed hidden. It was his second time here today. Just an hour of Luli's babbling and he just needed to get away. It was final. He would kill the woman soon.
Now, the only problem was how he was going to do that. It was much more complicated than it sounded. Even with the sword to his waist and the gun in his coat, there was no way to kill her. Not without killing himself. Oh, what woe.
Not like he would have really cared for Reiner in any way. He only cared for Luli and himself, and, well, the only reason he cared for Luli is because if anything happened to her, he was also a goner. He had to find a way to preserve his life while she died. He had to do it soon. He would simply hill her out of madness if he didn't do it soon. Then again, he'd been saying that the past eight years. There was time.
"Yeah, in for another drink. You can't blame a man," he said, half to birdman, half to himself. He knew who it was. There was no hiding from this warrior. Feathered-Dino over there was just lucky he wasn't on his bad side. He tapped in his order. Like earlier, it was simple.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the woman with black hair who had been eying him. He returned the favor, but none too kindly.
"Not surprising," said Duke, and in truth, he really wasn't let down. He didn't expect her to know, anyway. Or, at least, he didn't expect her to tell him. There was always some risk he didn't know about. Not that he cared. Not at this point, though he wouldn't push it further. He took another swig of his drink. "Not like one more day's gonna make a difference."
"Not like I mind," he told September. "Doesn't make a difference to me." Well, wasn't he just the best conversationalist? Though, for normally being an absolute apathetic little emo, he was certainly managing well. Not that it was his fault. He had a reason, he really did.
"Not hiding. Trapped. It's not a compressor, or whatever you call it," Duke said, tugging away the neck to his shirt, only to reveal the black band around his neck. It almost looked like it was part of his skin it was so tight. He glanced back to view September's collar. The compressor.
"What does yours do?"
The fact that the bird thing had been speaking to him in a woman's voice did nothing to offset the warrior. He only shifted the collar to his shirt to hide the band again, eyeing September from the corner of his vision. "Makes sense." He said, cleaning out some dirt in his thumb finger idly. That is, before the woman handed him a paper. He took it, though not with any particular enthusiasm. What would he need her for? Nothing if she wasn't going to take the damn band off. However, for some reason, he pocketed the paper. He must have been getting desperate.
"I'm dangerous, but it's not like I can't control myself. Some girl put this on me because I tried to kill her. Still am. Can't do it, though. It won't allow me to." And it wouldn't allow him to kill various others, either. He had to follow Luli's orders. He had no choice in the matter. It made him do it.
"Serial killer? Of sorts." Mumbled Duke calmly. He set his drink down and set his palm over it, shifting to turn to September fully. His cold gaze was aimed right at the creature, indifferent. Unfeeling. "I don't eat people, September. I'm not a cannibal. But, like you eat humans-" he gestured to himself, then to September. "I eat birds. I think it's fair enough." And Duke left it at that. However horrified or angered the creature may have become, he did not care. He had both a gun and a blade. If he got too close to shoot, he's just slice its neck off or summat.
"You'd like to deny it so much, wouldn't you?" Asked Duke. Really, if the bird was going to go about eating who he wished, then you'd think that he thought the opposite is true. "I'm not going to prove it to you. You've probably eaten a person who's recently eaten chicken. Like the man you ate today. Makes you a cannibal, it does." He said, the smallest of smirks on his lips.
"And it's kind of hard to feel inferior when I can kill you with one plunge of steel to your gut. Stop trying, bird. It's not working."
Walking down the path of the Forest Border was a well built man wearing light leather armor. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and sighed, sharp eyes staring right in front of him. He didn't look very pleased, that was for sure. He walked with a controlled gait. His steps looked like each was considered before being taken. He grunted, his thoughts bothering him.
The young man stopped in his tracks. Did he hear a rustle? Even a tiny one. Surely, it could have been an animal, but Duke was never one to overlook these things. He narrowed his eyes, putting his hand onto the hilt of his sword. He hadn't carried his gun today. Not even the bow. Maybe that would have been a wiser choice. Well, no matter. It wasn't like he was particularly worried. He was sure he could take on anything that came his way.
The warrior pursed his lips, slowly taking a step forward, as if he'd dismissed the problem as nothing. Maybe this would lure whatever was out there toward him. His hand slid from the sword and his eyes stared out in front of him.
A man sat at the bar, his brown hair flopping into his face, hiding his dark eyes. He was very fit; very muscular, however the way he was leaned over the counter made him seem defeated. It was a sorry sight, such a large man in such a state. His fingers clung around a glass and he heaved a large sigh.
"One more day...every day." He muttered/
A man was walking down the length of the beach, looking out to sea with his stern eyes. Something about them had softened over the past few days. Even if it was too slight to notice, things had definitely changed. It confused him somewhat, but it had been all too easy to forget about it as he strayed away from that hellish woman that had enslaved him. He lifted one hand and slipped his fingers across the black stripe across his throat. It still felt too tight after all these years.
He stopped as he spotted a figure out across the sand. He'd would have run into him if he went any further. He squinted his eyes, turning on a spell that gave them a grey hue. It allowed him to analyze details with less light. Widening them, he realized he recognized this kid. "Relaxing after an ordeal?" He asked.
Something of a short smirk had flown across the man's face before vanishing. "I'm guessing you're either terribly relaxed or you don't remember me at all from trying to strangle my mistress just a few days ago," he said. He was unafraid of threats from this man that might come later. After all, he was cold enough toward him that it didn't seem to matter.