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Blood Which Binds Us

United States of America

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a part of Blood Which Binds Us, by Vix.

None

Vix holds sovereignty over United States of America, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

616 readers have been here.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

http://www.roleplaygateway.com/roleplay/blood-which-binds http://www.roleplaygateway.com/member/mela/

Setting

Default Location for Blood Which Binds Us
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United States of America is a part of Blood Which Binds Us.

1 Places in United States of America:

12 Characters Here

Garth [2] "I shall protect this house, no matter the cost."
Angiluzza Maniscalco [2] "Ho questa strana voglia di strappare solo voi a parte in questo preciso istante."
Nikolai Venator [1] WIP
Delilah [1] "Did I hear someone say party?" WIP
Aphrodite the Plague [1] "Remind me again why you're worth anything to me."
Preston Vyse [1] Gone away; just not far enough.
Dmitri Deon [1] "Fuck off..."
Evelyn Dubois [1] WIP
Isaac "Iggy" Campbell [0] An NPC open for the taking!
Grace "Little Red" Sawyer [0] An NPC open for the taking!

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9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Evelyn Dubois Character Portrait: Grace Sawyer Character Portrait: Aphrodite the Plague Character Portrait: Garth Character Portrait: Isaac Campbell Character Portrait: Angiluzza Maniscalco Character Portrait: Dmitri Deon Character Portrait: Nikolai Venator Character Portrait: Hadley Cartwrite
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#, as written by Vix
“Zitta, piccola, e piegare le mani. Il sole ha impostato, la luna è alta, il mare canta per le sabbie, e poesie di veglia sono ingannato. Per molti una ninna nanna fata. Zitto, bambino --- il mio bambino! Sogno, piccolo, e nei tuoi sogni, levitare da questo luogo umile. Galleggiante su mellow, flussi di nebbia. Per terre dove abita solitario Maria mite, e lasciare che il suo bacio la tua faccia poco. Tu bambino --- il mio bambino! Dormi, piccola, e prendi il tuo riposo. E angeli chini su di te, dormire dolcemente sul petto che Padre che il nostro caro Cristo ha riconciliato. Ma non stare lì! Torna da me! Oh, bambino --- il mio bambino!” Deep in the forest, two miles away from the home of the Domus dormiendi Dracones, a Coven of Vampires descending from the Forebearers Faction, a soft singing voice mingled with the pit pit pat of a soft drizzle.

A woman was lying on the damp ground, blue eyes staring up into the velvety sky. The forest was so quiet and so still around her as her thick accent rolled past her lips and pierced the otherwise quiet night. Angiluzza had strayed off earlier that night and had officially been gone for three hours. Not that anyone would miss her or even know that she was gone. Nobody ever knew where she was even if she was standing in a corner right behind them. Sighing, she bit down on her bottom lip, letting her fangs extend and pierce the supple flesh. She wasn't hungry. Her fingers were itching to dance across the beautiful ebony and ivory keys of her piano. She longed to be in the darkness of her room, letting music fill her to her core. “E così sarà.” The Sicilian muttered to herself before rising from the ground. Waves of ebony and milk chocolate locks tumbled down her back, down, down, down to her ankles She didn't bother dusting off as she took off towards her...home.

Home was still such a...foreign word to her.

The home came into view and she glanced up, blinking at it slowly as though she had never been there before. She walked on the tips of her pedicured toes, up the steps and to the door. It came open with the gentlest push, swinging open slowly. The lights were off and she didn't turn them on as she walked bare foot through the shadows, eyes forward. To her room she went, her body clothed only by a large t-shirt that made clear her love for the band called Metallica and her favorite black and blue laced panties with a small ribbon on them. Her room was just as silent as the forest, filled with the scent of apple cinnamon and various candies; it was her favorite. She was greeted by a wall of the scent causing her to pause and close her eyes letting it consume her. It mingled with the scent of her own body that emanated an earthy scent. The mocha colored flesh of her body was riddled with earth and leaves that hadn't dislodged during her run, causing her to smell stronger of earth than usual. But she didn't mind. She grew up on the scents of earth and rain.

She left her door open, walking past her large bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines of the thick books. Journals, they were. Memoirs of her life. There were two missing that Garth was reading at the time. If the woman remembered correctly, he was around year eighty-five. That was when Angiluzza had left to Mount Song in the Henan province of China to learn Shaolin Kung Fu. She smiled in remembering at how long it took her to persuade the monks to take her on as a pupil - It wasn't that she was a Vampire, rather it was that she was a she. Thirty-four years she spent there to learn. She was so proud to return home and exhibit her skill. But she still would not present herself as an Enforcer until she learned at least one another fighting style. He would be getting to that part next.

Finished with reminiscing, she moved over to the grand piano that was smack in the center of her massive bedroom. Manicured fingertips trailed down the keys before she took a seat. While Angel was a patron of the arts and very much a lover of classic music from the Post Romantic era and the Renaissance era, she couldn't have helped but to have gotten into some of the music from the decades past. Metallica and Avenged Sevenfold had to be her favorites since the '90s. Slowly. So slowly at first did her fingers dance across the keys, delicately playing out Nothing Else Matters. It was by far her favorite song. Well. Perhaps Orion beat that song. Or Loverman. She couldn't decide. She admired and envied the guitar skills displayed by Kirk Hammett and the vocals by James Hetfield. She played with growing passion as the music played in her head and she imagined playing alongside them. Piano, of course.




“Oh? Thanks for the heads up, Carly. Of course. Yeah, I'll send someone out to handle it. It's not a problem! Trust me, we both benefit from it. Alright. Yeah. Alright, love you. Kiss kiss!”

Delilah tapped her phone, ending her conversation with a sigh before shoving the phone back into her pocket. She had to go home early and handle an issue and she was not too happy about that. She had planned on snagging one of the many Twi-bitches filing into the club every two seconds. Oh well; She could always get a bite to eat from Stacy. She was no O positive, but she was quite delicious nonetheless. “Great - Totally wasted this outfit!” She grumbled as she made her way out, smoothing out some of the wrinkles in the short orange dress before sliding into her blue corvette, peeling out of the parking lot. Her stereo blared out old Britney Spears songs as she flew down the old dirt road to their current home on the outskirts of Seattle, Washington. They were moving to Chicago in a few days because she heard that party life there was starting to heat up now that school was out for the summer.

That and Evelyn had picked up a lead for the Fallen they were hunting.

She slammed on the brakes as she came upon the house, quickly turning off the car and jumping out. She was but a blur as she went inside, slamming the door behind her. “Evelyn! You're coming with me!” She called out as she stood by the front door, texting faster than humanly possible, a bored expression on her face. <To; Garth, Isaac, Angiluzza>
Hunters hounding Salang Yeoseong-ui Jib. Im taking Evelyn to handle it. Stay home & keep an eye out 4 the Hunters John-John was talking about. They may b around.
She waited for Evelyn to get ready and join her so that they could make their way out to Shoreline. Her friend Carly was only in her eighties and her Coven had only three others, all of them being hunted at the moment. The Korean Coven had pleaded for Delilah to aid them.




There she was, sitting across the bar in the heavily crowded club. A woman of great beauty; she had hair as dark as a raven's wings that cascaded down her body in thick curls and framed the delicate features of her face. Her skin was ivory like the porcelain mini-statues he kept on a shelf in his room. And her body! Good lord, her body! She had curves in all the right places. She looked over at Aphrodite with bright green eyes and offered a shy smile. The Irishwoman grinned back and adjusted her fiery curls before moving away the area of the bar that she had taken occupancy of only a few hours ago.

“How about a drink?” Aphrodite flashed her a winning smile and smirked inwardly as she openly swooned at Ro's accent. American women...American humans were so easy to captivate. So long as you possessed a foreign accent, they would rob a bank at the snap of one's fingers. It was highly amusing to the vampire. “I'll take a Jack and Coke. As long as you're buying.” She tried her best to purr out a faux hispanic accent but she failed miserably. She didn't show her absolute disgust and instead contorted her face as though the human had just spoken the most fascinating thing she had ever heard in her life.

The woman was so easy to manipulate that it almost made Ro sad. Where was the challenge? But her boredom did not once show on his face as Ro continued to woo her at the bar before escorting her to the dance floor where she went a few rounds with her. Women these days had absolutely no sense of class. They thought they'd find spouse material by wearing tight-fitting clothes that were a size and a half too small and then grinding their junk on people. And they wondered why so many of them were raped outside of bars. That was like teasing a lion with a raw steak and then wondering why the lion tore off your arm.

The woman came alone to the crowded club, having just got out of a fight with her roommates. She was just looking to have some fun and find someone special. She had a good feeling about tonight. Why wouldn't she be able to find Miss Right in a club? Her sister got married that way. But her sister was also abused daily. But that could never happen to her, oh no! And Aphrodite was such a lady and so sexy. Nothing could go wrong with her, she thought as she danced with Ro, feeling safe wrapped in her arms as she whispered romantic sweet nothings into her ear.

Nine-thirty soon rolled around and Aphrodite had four other women in her car, chattering excitedly about what an epic orgy this was going to be. The ancient Vampire smirked as she pulled into a driveway, her home far away from the hustle and bustle of Indianapolis. She let the girls out of her car, her blue eyes narrowing as they went through the door. She removed her contacts to reveal her bright red eyes, letting her fangs slide out with a click. “Let's play a game.”, she hissed. She often engaged in games with her Covenmates, bringing home humans and more or less acting out a horror movie. They let them run around the house and get their silly knives before chasing them into the forest to play hide and seek; Fear seemed to just sweeten the blood. And the game could go on for hours. “DD! Gracie! Come here!” She called out for her two favorite humans as the girls she brought home screamed and ran.




Dmitri's fingers were dancing across the strings of his guitar. Something Aphrodite had given to him once upon a time when she was in a strangely good mood. Those moods were very disturbing to the blonde haired man. Alone in his room he sat, the lights all off. He wanted to be left alone in the dark as usual. Dmitri hated it when people came into his room. Dmitri hated it when people spoke to him. Dmitri hated it when people so much as looked at him. Dmitri hated people in general. Except for Grace. His fingers stopped for a while as he thought about her. That beautiful, flawless smile. Those flowing, fiery locks. And those eyes. He got lost in them every time he looked into them. He loved Grace even though he tried to make it not so obvious. He couldn't begin to imagine the terrible things that they'd do if they found out.

He shuddered at the thought. He would always pray that if Aphrodite ever found out she would have enough care for her favored pet that she would keep Grace alive. Should Aphrodite kill Grace...Dmitri wouldn't be able to bear it.

So he merely kept his mouth shut around Grace.

When Aphrodite's voice pierced the evening air, Dmitri cringed. She sounded like she was in a good mood. Great. And her voice preceded a series of screams - So she wanted them for the game. He let go of his guitar and rose as slowly as he possibly could, dragging his feet out of his room. He didn't want to see Aphrodite's face. She was so beautiful, but she was so corrupt and cruel that it made his stomach turn. His hand wiped down his face as he groaned under his breath, making his way towards the living room where her voice had emanated from. Usually he and Grace were forced to partake in the games they played, almost as though Aphrodite were training them. The thought made him shiver.

1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Preston Vyse
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[OOC: The day leading to recent events]

The air clutched in soothing waves, neutralising the sun’s early glare. For some reason Preston had become unusually sensitive to the globes bright touch, often just an hour absent shade meant his skin would glow, he sighed, It must be rubbing off on me.
He wasn’t in his accustomed attire today, a tight blue sports shirt and black shorts adorned his body along with trainers. The comfort these items provide irked Preston but he ignored urge to change; suits aren’t advisable during exercise. Warming up Preston push forward and breathing deeply in, then out. His brown eyes piercing ahead marked out the day’s route and a bead of sweat appeared at his hair line, as the building he’d emerged from disappeared behind him.
It was far too late to react when a wooden pole thrust out of a bush along the paths edge, Preston found himself face eating the soil in less than seconds. “The problem is, you have no intuition,” a grisly voice commented from behind the foliage, “You see the world as it is without change,” the voice continued revealing itself to belong to an aged man in black and grey combats; Preston squinted, cupping his mouth and nose. “But the world does change,” he said bending down on his knees as Preston spat rolling onto his back, “it’s a stream of colours, each colour a different possibility,” the man grumbled down at Preston, “And at night the colours become shades, you have to see these actions… Or they’ll seize you.”
The man regained his height and turned pacing away. Gyial! Preston removed a handkerchief from his front pocket and after sitting up he proceeded to blow his nose; he took a second and wiped his mouth. Blood. Fantastic. Rising to his feet he shakily stepped over the pole and moved to catch up with Gyial who had found a green clearing and was removing items from a black travel bag.
Reaching the man Preston began to speak, ”Could we focus less on the cloak and…” but he was cut off before he could finish with a glove to the stomach. A loud crack could be heard coming from where the glove impacted Preston and he crippled in agony to his knees crying out. At least two ribs had been cracked by Gyial’s assault, one had fractured puncturing skin but Gyial didn’t hesitate, he swung the other fist into Preston’s face and Preston was floored for second time in minutes.
“Whh..whh.”
“Why?” Gyial responded after Preston failed to produce the question, blood now flowing from Preston’s mouth. “You failed, that’s why.” The man removed his gloves and let them drop down; they hit the floor with a thump. Bricks. Lined with… “Where’s the pole Preston?” Gyial asked, “Left behind. Like your life.”

Preston walked back along the trail, his shirt and face smattered in blood and dirt. I don’t understand Gyial, Preston thought, disconcerted. Gyial had been like that since the word go; traps, tests, surprises and brutality were all common themes and Preston bitterly recalled his initial meeting, Lost my favourite tie to that villain. Vampire blood coursed through Preston and Gyial had done an expert job at forcing Preston’s rib back in at the expense of Preston’s pain threshold. Next time, Preston vowed, I’ll be ready, he thought shaking his head before a - Thunk – sound pierced through the back of his leg and Preston falter to a knee. Behind, far off, a voice faintly called out, “Just push it through and you’ll heal right up!” Gyial. The tip stuck through the side of Preston’s shin however Preston didn't have time to consider pain, the wound was already healing around the arrow.

Day’s peak had been reached by the time Preston had returned carrying a four pieces of arrow, Blasted arrow had to break three times. He wasn’t fatigued, the vamp blood saw to that and he’d have hours before it would wear out of his system. Shower. Upon entering his room Preston discarded his clothes into a bin liner in preparation to dispose of them, he didn’t need unwanted attention from his “patrons”.

Refreshed, dressed and fed Preston turned his attention to a table situated at the window side, its surface held a kettle, tubing and empty blood bags stacked neatly in a tray. Beneath the table was a small fridge with a clear door, a couple of full bags could be seen through. As he sat he removed a needle from the kettle and attached it to the tube, the other end of the tube was attached to a blood bag and Preston carefully hooked the needle in a vein running through his synovial joint. The drops of vampire blood will certainly give this batch a kick, Preston mused but it needed to be done, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to rest before sun down, syncopating him with his allies.
Two bags later Preston withdrew the needle, the remnants of the vampire blood healing his wound and readjusting his blood level. ”Sleep at last,” Preston breathed as he moved to his bed which flapped as he sat down. I should really… but Preston didn’t get to finish contemplating about the bin liner as sleep had taken him. He gently fell backwards, feet still firmly planted to the floor and just like that was asleep, abandoning the daylight.

A forceful jolt to the bed awoke Preston.

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Garth Character Portrait: Angiluzza Maniscalco Character Portrait: Delilah
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To one that wasn't familiar with the House used by the Forebearer Coven, they might find it odd that a man was almost always on the roof. One would think he was similar to a rooster in his constant watchings over the house, but they would be wrong: for a rooster sleeps and awakens early to crow, while the man on the roof was never asleep. He was always doing something, always awake, always keeping an eye on those he considered his family; his Coven.

The man, who called himself by the name of Garth, was currently performing tai chi on the roof's peak. While to a mortal this would seem perilous and suicidal, a vampire such as himself balanced with little to no difficulty. What made him different, however, was that Garth held aloft a novel on his head, while another was in his hand open. Such novels were different than most in the world: thick bound, they were hand written; a journal of events by his progeny, his little huntress. The only reason such a man would be reading while performing life-threatening stunts was simple: Garth had to read constantly to make sure he would finish on time. Sadly, the ancient vampire was not the best at reading in general, so he hoped to improve his ability to read: he liked to be efficient and save time, not take forever. At least it was in Italian, and not in the dreaded English Language: sure, English is rooted from his native tongue, but it's rules and exceptions boggled the mind of such a straightforward, simplistic gentleman as himself.

His leather jacket yelped in protest as his changed positions after holding the previous one for 2 minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his little huntress silently approach the house, a smile threatening to plant itself on his face; after all, he was reading of her life. Odd that Garth would bother to read anything as it went against his normal creed of 'Actions are the words of the body', but there were a few reasons: mostly because he was curious in the fact that Angel would actually write it all down, and slightly because she asked if he would. Garth had always relied simply on his memory - which was near picture perfect - but Angel decided to actually document. It was interesting, to say the least.

He then made a mental note that Angel had come home, which now meant that Evelyn, Angel and the pet Preston were currently in the house. Garth was uncertain of Isaac's whereabouts, and Delilah was out for the night: something Garth wasn't too happy about. Since going on this little hunt of theirs, Garth was constantly expressing concern for Delilah's safety to ensure that the Coven's leader didn't perish. If she kept going out clubbing and was attacked, how was he to protect her if she was constantly telling him not to be her escort? Garth gave a slight sigh on the thought, his eyes turning back to the pages after staring at the night sky: she could be childish and bitchy, but Garth would protect Delilah wholeheartedly. He just wished that these nagging emotions would stop pestering him when either Angel or Delilah were near him. Garth gave a slight chuckle at the thought: Delilah would... flirt (blast this language and its odd terms) with him if Angel had done something irk her, and Garth realized that most of it went over his head. How was he supposed to understand the emotions of women if he was the type to never show any?

Nevertheless, he was nearly done the second journal that he had chosen as a piano echoed through the air. While he did not recognize the piece - music wasn't his forte (puns!) - he recognized the pianist as none other than his little huntress. He couldn't resist a small smile as it creeped in, his eyes losing focus on the pages again. He had told her to become whatever she wanted, and she was shaping marvelously into a beautiful and gifted child. Sure, Garth may not appreciate the skills as something to put into his own arsenal, but who was he to disallow his progeny to explore the arts of the world? Garth knew his place as a simple protector and did not need any skills but to protect, but he knew that Angel yearned for something more, and he was more than happy to allow her the freedom to discover it.

In the distance was the sound of music that he barely recognized until the roar of an engine on the dirt road could be heard over the music: a blue corvette peeled down the driveway to the house, driven by the one and only Delilah. Garth only glanced out of the side of his eye, however, only to watch her slam on her brakes and rush inside. A sigh emitted from his lips as he knew what was going to happen even before it began: Delilah would rush inside, yell for somebody, and use that infernal device of hers to explain her plans. Closing the journal with one hand, Garth shifted his weight while on his single foot to gracefully jump off the roof and land almost silently as Delilah's voice echoed through the house. “Evelyn! You're coming with me!” Garth slid the journal from his head into his left hand, which housed the other journal, and approached the door.

Garth then heard the sound of her fingers tapping, which was his cue to open the door enough for him to slide into the house and speak in his sweet yet monotonous, baritone voice. "Must I remind you that I have no use of this infernal device?" He had grabbed his cell phone - which Delilah had forced him to purchase - out of his pocket to hold it up as it buzzed, which made Garth eye it suspiciously. "Or should I kindly point out that the racing technological age and I do not always cooperate with one another?" While it sounded like he was an old grandpa, Garth and technology had been at odds with one another ever since the Cold War. First was the incident when one of the first telephones somehow electrocuted him. Next came his inability to understand a computer and its functions. The list went on, especially if one counted how many... incidents occured when Garth tried using the internet. Baaaaad things happen.

Regardless, Garth gave Delilah an odd look after her response, to issue his standard routine of questions. "How did the night go? Any attacks or problems I should be aware of?"