Setting
The Davrell Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals (christened 'The RIP') is the Terran National Government's largest, most secure detention and rehabilitation center for criminals of paranormal or supernatural persuasion. Resting at the edge of the gloomy Cursed Woods beneath a massive, spiraling decline of stony stairs, The RIP is quite secluded from the rest of the civilized world. A massive collection of stony towers spiraling out of a Gothic manor, The RIP is a dark place, its intricately designed post-Romanesque architecture both enticing and intimidating.
Despite its delicate, artistic appearance, The RIP is one of the most foundationally-sound institutes on Terra, its structure build from a near-indestructible calcyx-marble allatrope blend and laced with a plethora of mighty arcane wards and devout prayers. Responsible for housing and jailing over a thousand "supers" at any given time, The RIP uses only the latest technology, the strongest magics and the most intelligent doctors to secure, control and educate their "guests".
As a government institution, the RIP is mostly guarded and maintained by the NPA. Enforcers patrol the castle at all times, specially-equipped to pin down even the most aggravated of superhuman inmates. The institution is also equipped with several well-supplied laboratories, the unseemly quantity of powered inmates making the place a breeding ground for scientific inquiry.
All scares and frights aside, The RIP is remarkably equipped, always prepared to accommodate superhumans of every shape and color. While the majority of The RIP is a sprawling prison/asylum, the facility does possess a few cultural outings, particularly the artistically-seasoned atria and lavishly-decorated dormitories. Were it not on the edge of a cursed forest and the home to hundreds of criminally-inclined superbeings, it would have made a nice hotel.
The RIP is overseen by director Joran Davrell, a prestigious NPA agent and former university professor.
The 'RIP'
The Davrell Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals (christened 'The RIP') is the Terran National Government's largest, most secure detention and rehabilitation center for criminals of paranormal or supernatural persuasion. A massive collection of stony towers spiraling out of a Gothic manor, The RIP is a dark place; its intricately designed post-Romanesque architecture both enticing and intimidating. Despite its delicate, artistic appearance, The RIP is one of the most foundationally-sound institutes on Terra, its structure build from a near-indestructible calcyx-marble allatrope blend and laced with a plethora of mighty arcane wards and devout prayers. Responsible for housing and jailing over a thousand "supers" at any given time, The RIP uses only the latest technology, the strongest magics and the most intelligent doctors to secure, control and educate their "guests". The RIP is overseen by director Joran Davrell, a prestigious NPA agent and former university professor.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
| "in" to The 'RIP' Atria » | ||
| "out" to The Decline » | ||
The 'RIP' is a part of 
The Decline.
11 Places in The 'RIP':
13 Characters Here
Joran Davrell [73] A former university professor, NPA Director and general overseer of The Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals.
Derrick Rose [6] A former stunt pilot, his skills are still sharp, but his reflexes are a little slower than they used to be.
Maxwell Gilbert [5] I'm an engineer not a goddamn magician! Well... I shouldn't be!
Sgt. Harvey Gladstone [4] "Move like you're being paid to!"
Nyke Demopolous [4] Gorgon's Watch Marine Corp First Division: First Regiment, First Batallion. The FNG
Eden Decimo [4] The False Divinity
Ahmad Fazari [4] Formerly senior aide to Terra's spymaster, and now the Deputy Director of Intelligence.
1st Lt. Mason Harding [4] "I don't care if you took a Bolter to the chest, when I say move, you move!"
Lawrence Artin [3] An older doctor, refined but with a spitfire of a personality.
Brian James [2] "I do what is needed of me, and I do not question it. If my Father wills it, it will be done."
Start Character Here »
“It sounds too good to be true,” she started. She had to be hesitant, who knew if this was a set-up? A way for the vampires to frame her and be rid of her once and for all under the needle. She stared him down with borrowed eyes. “But I am getting so very stiff in here. I want to catch my own prey. I don't want to be fed all the time- I want to hunt too....otherwise I'd get fat,” she chuckled at her joke, meaning that she couldn't exactly gain weight when te bodies she borrowed were already dead and permanently sticks.
“I like the idea, but you would have to discuss it with the Director as well. He says he has plans for me, but I do not know what they are yet. Maybe they are along the same lines as to what you offer.”
“I like the idea, but you would have to discuss it with the Director as well. He says he has plans for me, but I do not know what they are yet. Maybe they are along the same lines as to what you offer.”
Casren said, laughing a bit at her joke. He rose, for his fear was beginning to best him.Of course,
It's too bad our kind don't mesh. You do seem quite the charmer.
It was late into the night and Rhogar was enjoying the confines of solitary isolation after having hospitalized his third inmate this month. His resolve was fierce though and he knew this foul hive of villainy and demon scum could not contain him forever. When his moment for escape came, he would be ready. Tonight he hung from the pipelines of the ceiling, his feet wedged against the wall as he lowered and pulled himself up again and again. There was a pulsing rhythm to the his movements and he let his mind wander to how he had come to find himself in this strange place.
The battle raged fiercely, draconian against draconian in a bitter civil war that had rend their empire in two. The sounds of shouts and the ring of metal resonated across the rolling plains as Rhogar met a charging warrior head on. Roaring his challenge he swung his warhammer with all the fervor and might of his draconian blood lines. Upon striking the amulet his foe wore, a brilliant flash of light and the stench of sulfur engulfed him.
Honk! Honk!
"Get out of the road you moron!"
Rhogar wheeled about, eyes going wide as vehicles sped past him.
"What manner of demons -"
The loud blaring of a horn sounded as a car swerved past Rhogar. Another clipped his arm and knocked him to the ground which swiftly resulted in more of the oncoming traffic swerving to avoid the figure within the street.
Pulling himself back to his feet, the draconian warrior picked his warhammer up and widened his stance to meet the traffic head-on. Another car blared its horn and swerved violently into a side lane where it clipped yet another car, sending both spinning into the divider of the highway. Crouching, Rhogar lept for the pair of vehicles with a deafening roar. The metal of the vehicle crumpled beneath his weight and he brought his warhammer down atop the roof to cave it in. A woman screamed.
What foul villainy was this?
He leaped down from the vehicle, swinging his warhammer for the side door. The metal caved and the glass shattered beneath the blow, and as he looked through the window it was fast apparent that there were people trapped within these demons. Rhogar growled fiercely as he tore the crushed door from the frame of the car and tossed it aside. Stooping down he reached inside and grabbed hold of the screaming woman's shirt and pulled her free of the vehicle. Once deposited outside, the woman turned and fled down the highway screaming for help and waving down yet more cars.
It hadn't been long before more blaring demons with flashing lights bearing what he could only surmise were enslaved humans had arrived upon the scene. Rhogar had fought fiercely, but in the end his might simply was not enough. They had come in large numbers and with strange weapons, and not a day later he found himself in this place surrounded by all manner of villainous wretches.
Dropping down from the ceiling he stretched his arms behind his back to keep them limber. He would sleep he decided, conserve his strength. It would take all of his willpower to withstand whatever mental torture this place had concocted to break him.
Come morning, the security of the RIP found Rhogar's small cell devoid of life. Nothing but singed stone and the stench of sulfur lingered.
The battle raged fiercely, draconian against draconian in a bitter civil war that had rend their empire in two. The sounds of shouts and the ring of metal resonated across the rolling plains as Rhogar met a charging warrior head on. Roaring his challenge he swung his warhammer with all the fervor and might of his draconian blood lines. Upon striking the amulet his foe wore, a brilliant flash of light and the stench of sulfur engulfed him.
Honk! Honk!
"Get out of the road you moron!"
Rhogar wheeled about, eyes going wide as vehicles sped past him.
"What manner of demons -"
The loud blaring of a horn sounded as a car swerved past Rhogar. Another clipped his arm and knocked him to the ground which swiftly resulted in more of the oncoming traffic swerving to avoid the figure within the street.
Pulling himself back to his feet, the draconian warrior picked his warhammer up and widened his stance to meet the traffic head-on. Another car blared its horn and swerved violently into a side lane where it clipped yet another car, sending both spinning into the divider of the highway. Crouching, Rhogar lept for the pair of vehicles with a deafening roar. The metal of the vehicle crumpled beneath his weight and he brought his warhammer down atop the roof to cave it in. A woman screamed.
What foul villainy was this?
He leaped down from the vehicle, swinging his warhammer for the side door. The metal caved and the glass shattered beneath the blow, and as he looked through the window it was fast apparent that there were people trapped within these demons. Rhogar growled fiercely as he tore the crushed door from the frame of the car and tossed it aside. Stooping down he reached inside and grabbed hold of the screaming woman's shirt and pulled her free of the vehicle. Once deposited outside, the woman turned and fled down the highway screaming for help and waving down yet more cars.
It hadn't been long before more blaring demons with flashing lights bearing what he could only surmise were enslaved humans had arrived upon the scene. Rhogar had fought fiercely, but in the end his might simply was not enough. They had come in large numbers and with strange weapons, and not a day later he found himself in this place surrounded by all manner of villainous wretches.
Dropping down from the ceiling he stretched his arms behind his back to keep them limber. He would sleep he decided, conserve his strength. It would take all of his willpower to withstand whatever mental torture this place had concocted to break him.
Come morning, the security of the RIP found Rhogar's small cell devoid of life. Nothing but singed stone and the stench of sulfur lingered.
The black limousine pulled up to The 'RIP'. It was not just any limo, but a hover limo, casting a purple glare on the ground below. As it rolled to a stop, identification was aptly presented. The Vankoryth Detente and The 'RIP' were on good terms, for both had the same goal of unification. According to Casren, that is.
In the back seat, Daemala sighed. She had napped on the way here from the tavern, and it was time for her to do some work. Detente work, joy. Not that she minded too much, delivering an invitation to an infamous convict was quite exciting. Responsibility was just, boring when it wasn't decided completely by her.
She was quite classy in her simple black dress that swished around the knees, hair drawn into dark ponytail with her bangs something fierce. The woman quick clicked up the stairs, again presenting her identification and purpose. An official would lead her to her destination.
In the back seat, Daemala sighed. She had napped on the way here from the tavern, and it was time for her to do some work. Detente work, joy. Not that she minded too much, delivering an invitation to an infamous convict was quite exciting. Responsibility was just, boring when it wasn't decided completely by her.
She was quite classy in her simple black dress that swished around the knees, hair drawn into dark ponytail with her bangs something fierce. The woman quick clicked up the stairs, again presenting her identification and purpose. An official would lead her to her destination.
Another visitor. My, she was getting so popular! Timo barely had time to put on a face before she was being led to the public area by the usual armed guard. The first thing she did was flick her 'tongue' and taste the air, vampire; not just any vampire really. Detente.
Of course.
Maybe it was new summons, a new mission. New prey to chase after.
She did enjoy her exercise.
She wasn't sure what Daemala was expecting when she came to see the infamous dhampir- but Timo looked fairly unremarkable, decently put together certainly, but there was nothing about her that hinted of the 'boogeyman' she was known to be. Of course, until the ancient creature's aura washed over her and caused her chest to tighten.
Timo tilted her head. “You're a new one...” she commented as she sat down at the table.
Of course.
Maybe it was new summons, a new mission. New prey to chase after.
She did enjoy her exercise.
She wasn't sure what Daemala was expecting when she came to see the infamous dhampir- but Timo looked fairly unremarkable, decently put together certainly, but there was nothing about her that hinted of the 'boogeyman' she was known to be. Of course, until the ancient creature's aura washed over her and caused her chest to tighten.
Timo tilted her head. “You're a new one...” she commented as she sat down at the table.
Daemala narrowed her eyes as Timo entered, ever so slightly. She had been lead to a room, seated, offered a glass of water. What did she need with water? Politely, the woman refused.
But here was Timo. Infamous vampire killer, resident of the RIP. What Terran vampire hadn't heard of Timo? Stupid ones, or dead ones. She shifted in her seat as she sensed the aura, but kept her gaze locked on Timo. There was no real threat here, no use acknowledging one.
In response to the comment, she smiled. "Yes, we've yet to meet. Timo, Daemala." The voice of the woman was like syrup and chocolate, she laid a hand upon her bosom on the introduction then cleared her throat to continues. "You're not quite was I expected, but Casren did say that."
But here was Timo. Infamous vampire killer, resident of the RIP. What Terran vampire hadn't heard of Timo? Stupid ones, or dead ones. She shifted in her seat as she sensed the aura, but kept her gaze locked on Timo. There was no real threat here, no use acknowledging one.
In response to the comment, she smiled. "Yes, we've yet to meet. Timo, Daemala." The voice of the woman was like syrup and chocolate, she laid a hand upon her bosom on the introduction then cleared her throat to continues. "You're not quite was I expected, but Casren did say that."
Timo nodded in acknowledgement of Daemala's introduction. She obviously did not need one. She smiled through borrowed lips and replied the same, her voice smooth and practiced as well.
“And what exactly did you expect, Daemala?” she postured.
The aura of terror subsided, since there was no need for threats. The Detente was ALMOST a neutral area for Timo, though she admitted she entertained fantasies of doing such terrible things to Casren from time to time. It was simply her nature.
“The Dentente rarely call on me just to chat,” she began. “So what is the nature of this visit? Do you have another job for me?”
She seemed eager to get out of the RIP again. She'd grown cozy here, but there was very little room to stretch her legs, as it were, without causing a panic.
“And what exactly did you expect, Daemala?” she postured.
The aura of terror subsided, since there was no need for threats. The Detente was ALMOST a neutral area for Timo, though she admitted she entertained fantasies of doing such terrible things to Casren from time to time. It was simply her nature.
“The Dentente rarely call on me just to chat,” she began. “So what is the nature of this visit? Do you have another job for me?”
She seemed eager to get out of the RIP again. She'd grown cozy here, but there was very little room to stretch her legs, as it were, without causing a panic.
"Something less mortal looking, I suppose," Her teeth glimmered for a moment before her red lips closed. Even vampires had monsters under their beds. She imagined anything that could consume the likes of her to be nothing less than completely grotesque. Timo was far less than grotesque.
"Another job, sort of. I'm sure you've heard of the threat of Alucard. He needs to be taken care of," This first part she rushed through, for conversations about official things such as these bored her entirely. "And, something a little more fun."
Now, it was time for presentation. With a flourish of her wrist, she reached into a small leather satchel. With two fingers, the rest splayed, she drew from the satchel a scroll. It was very beautiful, and the parchment was tinged green. The ends were capped with roses of ruby, the stems of which interlaced intricately around the green parchment.
"An invitation," Daemala said, passing the object to Timo. It opened where all the stems came together, in the center of the scroll. If one pushed the knot, the stems would coil around the ruby roses, allowing access to the mint backed parchment.
The parchment was aninvitation to the Ball of Chaos.
"Another job, sort of. I'm sure you've heard of the threat of Alucard. He needs to be taken care of," This first part she rushed through, for conversations about official things such as these bored her entirely. "And, something a little more fun."
Now, it was time for presentation. With a flourish of her wrist, she reached into a small leather satchel. With two fingers, the rest splayed, she drew from the satchel a scroll. It was very beautiful, and the parchment was tinged green. The ends were capped with roses of ruby, the stems of which interlaced intricately around the green parchment. "An invitation," Daemala said, passing the object to Timo. It opened where all the stems came together, in the center of the scroll. If one pushed the knot, the stems would coil around the ruby roses, allowing access to the mint backed parchment.
The parchment was aninvitation to the Ball of Chaos.
“I've tangled with an Alucard before,” she ruminated. “When I was young and virile- and even then I barely got out with my life. I'm an old lady now. You're better off with some brash youngster with training and tech. I only have my cunning and my claws.”
Timo took the invitation and ran her fingers along the stems of the roses, admiring the craftsmanship that went into it with an approving 'mmm'. She read it over- another ball? She'd barely recovered from the last one. “I want to come but....” she trailed off, as if she were ashamed to admit it. “This seems like the sort of thing you'd want to bring a date to, and alas, I have none.”
Timo hated going stag to anything. She didn't trust herself to stay in line when left to her own devices. She'd gotten so used to being cared for that she hated being alone.
It was one of the reasons she stuck around the RIP instead of trying to break free.
She doubted Joran would have the time for her. He very rarely did as of late. She was sure it was her fault, that night at their first event, when they were both drunk.
“And in that instance, I would have to decline.”
Timo took the invitation and ran her fingers along the stems of the roses, admiring the craftsmanship that went into it with an approving 'mmm'. She read it over- another ball? She'd barely recovered from the last one. “I want to come but....” she trailed off, as if she were ashamed to admit it. “This seems like the sort of thing you'd want to bring a date to, and alas, I have none.”
Timo hated going stag to anything. She didn't trust herself to stay in line when left to her own devices. She'd gotten so used to being cared for that she hated being alone.
It was one of the reasons she stuck around the RIP instead of trying to break free.
She doubted Joran would have the time for her. He very rarely did as of late. She was sure it was her fault, that night at their first event, when they were both drunk.
“And in that instance, I would have to decline.”
Daemala nodded along, understanding being old and out of touch. Though efficient with her cell phone, she was nothing like the youngsters of today.
She raised her nose and hmph'd. "I have no date either. Besides, they never look good in the photographs," She smiled, "And they can never quite keep up." Daemala sometimes considered grabbing a mortal, seducing them through the evening then striking, but. That was not the way anymore. She would have better luck finding a fetishist and slapping on a Romany accent.
"Casren has already purchased your ticket, it would be a shame to waste an evening. Don't you want to get out? Mingle? Party?"
She raised her nose and hmph'd. "I have no date either. Besides, they never look good in the photographs," She smiled, "And they can never quite keep up." Daemala sometimes considered grabbing a mortal, seducing them through the evening then striking, but. That was not the way anymore. She would have better luck finding a fetishist and slapping on a Romany accent.
"Casren has already purchased your ticket, it would be a shame to waste an evening. Don't you want to get out? Mingle? Party?"
Well, if the ticket was already bought, it would be rude to decline. She seemed pretty loathe to do it, and Daemala could tell that there were deeper underlying issues to the lot of this. The dhampir folded the invitation up and nodded. “Very well then...I'll be there.”
She smiled sweetly, before asking, “Does this invitation include permission to leave the RIP and look for something to wear? It should, given such short notice.”
She was anxious to get out again, to give herself a distraction from the creeping loneliness. “I only have the one dress and god forbid I wear it twice to similar events.”
She smiled sweetly, before asking, “Does this invitation include permission to leave the RIP and look for something to wear? It should, given such short notice.”
She was anxious to get out again, to give herself a distraction from the creeping loneliness. “I only have the one dress and god forbid I wear it twice to similar events.”
"Oh God Forbid!" Her hand flew to her chest again, a horrified expression striking her face.
"One dress? You have but one dress? Clearly it is not Red Carpet Attire if you had worn it before. A shopping trip is in order, yes, else the invitation would be void now wouldn't it?" One dress? An unspeakable offense, even the given conditions. She couldn't imagine a day without her wardrobe.
"One dress? You have but one dress? Clearly it is not Red Carpet Attire if you had worn it before. A shopping trip is in order, yes, else the invitation would be void now wouldn't it?" One dress? An unspeakable offense, even the given conditions. She couldn't imagine a day without her wardrobe.
“I know!” Timo replied. “It's a fucking travesty, but this IS a prison, sweet.”
The dhampir stood up and chuckled, her sour mood lifted by the theatrics and the euphoria that came with knowing there was a shopping spree in the imminent future. “/you'll have to sign me out, of course, but I want to grab a couple of things and finish putting on this damn makeup. They didn't give me half a chance to make pretty before pulling me down here.”
She bowed her head in respect for the vampire before excusing herself, and the official led Daemala to wherever it was that they handled things such as temporary releases into custody.
The dhampir stood up and chuckled, her sour mood lifted by the theatrics and the euphoria that came with knowing there was a shopping spree in the imminent future. “/you'll have to sign me out, of course, but I want to grab a couple of things and finish putting on this damn makeup. They didn't give me half a chance to make pretty before pulling me down here.”
She bowed her head in respect for the vampire before excusing herself, and the official led Daemala to wherever it was that they handled things such as temporary releases into custody.
Daemala bowed her head in return, smiling. Impromptu shopping trips were her favorite, and she had an account that had been growing for over 100 years. Not to mention Casren's funds, though he'd stated the use of that is strictly Detente business. She sighed, musing that she could pull funds for Timo from Casren's fund, and indulge on herself with her own money. Yes, that would do it perfectly fine. He would approve, he had kind words of Timo.
The papers were signed, and signed, and signed again, another one really? No, we don't have any de-activation devices, at least not that she knew of. Growing bored of formality, Daemala stood in the front atrium and waited for Timo, a vampyric guard sliding back into place beside her.
The papers were signed, and signed, and signed again, another one really? No, we don't have any de-activation devices, at least not that she knew of. Growing bored of formality, Daemala stood in the front atrium and waited for Timo, a vampyric guard sliding back into place beside her.
Daemala would note, maybe with a hint of cattiness, that Timo could make herself look REALLY FUCKIN PRETTY if she was given enough time. Her outfit was casual, shorts and a blouse, with her hair fixed and her usual sunglasses over borrowed eyes.
It was something though that the dhampir actually made an effort- she could have simply chosen a host that took less work. But Timo didn't like to take the easy way out of things, and molded her bodies to her liking, instead of merely paying up front for a decent thing. It was the difference between buying a new bike or one that you could customize.
“Where to?” She asked, her bag over her shoulder as she blinked in the daylight. Ahhh, so this was what it felt like!
It was something though that the dhampir actually made an effort- she could have simply chosen a host that took less work. But Timo didn't like to take the easy way out of things, and molded her bodies to her liking, instead of merely paying up front for a decent thing. It was the difference between buying a new bike or one that you could customize.
“Where to?” She asked, her bag over her shoulder as she blinked in the daylight. Ahhh, so this was what it felt like!
Daemala was even more surprised to note that Timo was truly beautiful. She didn't know what to make of it, for now, except that shopping would be significantly easier. The ugly were so tiring to dress.
"There's a shopping district in Wing City called Hipsterville, perhaps you've been?" Daemala responded as they made their way towards the limo. "I have a favorite boutique there, quite lovely, selling one of a kind dresses verified in three different systems. Quite the claim, but I've yet to see a duplicate."
The guard held the door open for the ladies to climb inside. Daemala did so gracefully, sliding to her favorite place across from the minibar. Leaning back on the leather seats, she just couldn't help but love luxury. The hover limo purred in the background, as the sweet sounds of Vivaldi played at elevator music level. Class.
"There's a shopping district in Wing City called Hipsterville, perhaps you've been?" Daemala responded as they made their way towards the limo. "I have a favorite boutique there, quite lovely, selling one of a kind dresses verified in three different systems. Quite the claim, but I've yet to see a duplicate."
The guard held the door open for the ladies to climb inside. Daemala did so gracefully, sliding to her favorite place across from the minibar. Leaning back on the leather seats, she just couldn't help but love luxury. The hover limo purred in the background, as the sweet sounds of Vivaldi played at elevator music level. Class.
Joran Davrell had certainly not intended to drink THIS much. It wasn't even really his fault. Every new political big-shot or corporate CEO that stumbled into the gala demanded to have a toast with their host. After fifty of these, Joran had inexplicably become quite tipsy. He realized the position he was in, and didn't want to jeopardize his reputation or his party.
Quickly, he found Timo, lightly touching her arm as she conversed with a pair of TIB officials.
"Gentlemen," he smiled, "might I borrow our hostess for a moment?"
Quickly, he found Timo, lightly touching her arm as she conversed with a pair of TIB officials.
"Gentlemen," he smiled, "might I borrow our hostess for a moment?"
The dhampir could smell the alcohol on his breath and smirked a little bit, but she wasn't really one to speak, given that after a few champagne flutes combined with her relatively simple processing system- she'd gotten quite inebriated as well. She rested her hand on his flushed one and smiled pleasantly to the men she'd been talking to.
"Excuse us for a moment, gentlemen," she purred.
They walked away from the crowds, off to the side where it was easier to hear and focus. "Too many toasts, hmmm?" she teased before releasing his hand. "What do you need, Director?"
"Excuse us for a moment, gentlemen," she purred.
They walked away from the crowds, off to the side where it was easier to hear and focus. "Too many toasts, hmmm?" she teased before releasing his hand. "What do you need, Director?"
"I'm afraid I need a moment to compose myself..." he blinked rapidly, "...I didn't intend to have... quite this much. An intoxicated psychic can be a dangerous thing..." He almost stumbled as they ascended the stairs, but managed to support himself on Timo's arm.
"Forgive me..." he smiled and blushed slightly, "...I hate to pull YOU from the festivities, but I AM your guardian. I fear what sort of questions those NPA wolves would rush you with the moment they realized I was off the floor..."
The director blinked rapidly as they walked through one of the hallways, dazed and confused. "Gods... where IS my room..."
"Forgive me..." he smiled and blushed slightly, "...I hate to pull YOU from the festivities, but I AM your guardian. I fear what sort of questions those NPA wolves would rush you with the moment they realized I was off the floor..."
The director blinked rapidly as they walked through one of the hallways, dazed and confused. "Gods... where IS my room..."
"You're asking me," she replied smoothly. "I've never been near it, only your office."
She was gracious and let him hold onto her to steady himself. She silently admitted to herself that it did feel nice to have somebody's arm around her waist again. Despite his betrayal, she found herself pining for Petru's affections in any form, whether she was in or out of skin.
"Not that said wolves would get anything useful out of me," she added. "I'm still oblivious to the inner machinations of this institution."
They stopped at what she presumed to be the door to his quarters. "Are you going to be fine here?"
She was asking to be polite, but the way she just let him hold her and the look in her borrowed eye suggested that she might not want to leave him at all.
She was gracious and let him hold onto her to steady himself. She silently admitted to herself that it did feel nice to have somebody's arm around her waist again. Despite his betrayal, she found herself pining for Petru's affections in any form, whether she was in or out of skin.
"Not that said wolves would get anything useful out of me," she added. "I'm still oblivious to the inner machinations of this institution."
They stopped at what she presumed to be the door to his quarters. "Are you going to be fine here?"
She was asking to be polite, but the way she just let him hold her and the look in her borrowed eye suggested that she might not want to leave him at all.
Joran nodded, attempting to straighten himself in a dignified manner, nearly stumbling onto the floor as he did so. "Ah..." he groaned, "...perhaps I could use some help. I just need to clear my head..." He reached aimlessly for the doors, grasping at empty air.
She wasted no time in helping out, opening the door and ushering the both of them inside. She looked around the room, the carved posts of the bed reminding her of Joran's desk. It was extravagant and yet refined, like the man kept it. She walked him to the bed and set him down on it, glancing about and wishing she had some water to pour him to help with his drunkeness before sitting down beside him, letting her hand rest on his.
She stood up, of course, after a few seconds of unresponsiveness, she wasn't one to push, much less take advantage of his inebriated state, no matter how much she admitted that she wanted to do some terrible things to him. He had to want it as well- she wasn't that kind of monster.
She stood up, of course, after a few seconds of unresponsiveness, she wasn't one to push, much less take advantage of his inebriated state, no matter how much she admitted that she wanted to do some terrible things to him. He had to want it as well- she wasn't that kind of monster.
"Wait, my dear..." Joran slurred as he stumbled into the room. He turned, his hand brushing along Timo's bare shoulder, "...there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about... something very important..." He came closer to her, as if he needed to tell her some hushed secret. "...have you ever..." He smiled, his eyes half-lidded and hungry. "...considered..." his voice was low and wanting; brooding and inviting. "...ever considered..." his free hand moved to her knee, his finger delicately tracing fragile circles up her thigh...
And then he passed out.
Literally passed the fuck out. Down directly on the bed. Not another word was spoken. It seemed the liquor had finally gotten to him. He breathed peacefully in his sleep.
And then he passed out.
Literally passed the fuck out. Down directly on the bed. Not another word was spoken. It seemed the liquor had finally gotten to him. He breathed peacefully in his sleep.
"We are in position sir." Said a calm deep voice.
"Good, ready the pods for impact." Said a calmer more in charge voice.
"Firing sulotion online" Came a robotic sounding computurised voice.
"Fire pods" Said the second man to speak
"Firing main cannons, Drop pods away" Said the disembodied voice.
Exactly 200 drop pods, little larger then a human man, fell towards the RIP facility. Well within the walls of the compound in fact. All the way down a trumpet blasted Reveille. Which meant trouble. Lots of it.
Ever since they'd figured out how to make copies ove themselves, the Battle Creek Reds managed to overpopulate the Valley they were dropped in inside of a week. Which allowed a mass exodus from Vahalla Valley to somewhere bigger that could hold them. Finally Command got hold o them and some of the Blues, who also had figured out the tech to make more of themselves. Who knew a outdated Deydrator and some ammo casings could whip up!
There were exactly 200 of both reds and blues of soldiers, The SPARTAN IIs were armored to the max with standard well designed armor along with basic weapons of their choosing dropping like rain around them as they plummeted towards the LZ.
These soldiers were insane. And they were also unkillable, and only one thing mattered.... "BLUE TEAM SUCKS!" Yelled a voice or two, followed by "No! You guys suck! GO BLUE!"
And then when the hailstorm ended, the bloodletting begain in ernest as 400 hyperactive extremely stupid and unable ot stay dead for any length of time group of soldiers blasted at each other.
"Good, ready the pods for impact." Said a calmer more in charge voice.
"Firing sulotion online" Came a robotic sounding computurised voice.
"Fire pods" Said the second man to speak
"Firing main cannons, Drop pods away" Said the disembodied voice.
Exactly 200 drop pods, little larger then a human man, fell towards the RIP facility. Well within the walls of the compound in fact. All the way down a trumpet blasted Reveille. Which meant trouble. Lots of it.
Ever since they'd figured out how to make copies ove themselves, the Battle Creek Reds managed to overpopulate the Valley they were dropped in inside of a week. Which allowed a mass exodus from Vahalla Valley to somewhere bigger that could hold them. Finally Command got hold o them and some of the Blues, who also had figured out the tech to make more of themselves. Who knew a outdated Deydrator and some ammo casings could whip up!
There were exactly 200 of both reds and blues of soldiers, The SPARTAN IIs were armored to the max with standard well designed armor along with basic weapons of their choosing dropping like rain around them as they plummeted towards the LZ.
These soldiers were insane. And they were also unkillable, and only one thing mattered.... "BLUE TEAM SUCKS!" Yelled a voice or two, followed by "No! You guys suck! GO BLUE!"
And then when the hailstorm ended, the bloodletting begain in ernest as 400 hyperactive extremely stupid and unable ot stay dead for any length of time group of soldiers blasted at each other.
It was only a five minute walk until they reached the outer guard post on the south side of the massive massive complex. Each step made Elsa more and more nervous. However she spoke quietly to Mark as they neared the guardpost, "I'll do the talking. You keep watch, should something go wrong, you know what to do." Of course he knew what to do, protect her with his life. It was just that simple. Should any harm come their way Elsa could handle it, but she planned on talking, not fighting, to find the shards. The shard she possed burned a bright glow, but on its Duradaeden steel chain, it merely steamed.
They were given a pass of sorts from the guard, and then they were directed towards the main building and told to ask for Mr Davrell. Whomever that person was made Elsa shiver slightly. She felt eyes on her. She thanked the guard and with Mark in tow, headed up the drive as instructed.
Upon entering the main building where words said MAIN ENTERANCE LOBBY she took in what was there carefully, the first room was a lobby of sorts, the basic thing, unlike Arendelle for sure. But it did the job she supposed. And she hoped that Mark was right, the Templars not caring of this location made perfect sense for her. They most likely did not know of the pieces of the puzzle being scattered across this area. Elsa, wings and all, strode up to the reception desk. Brilliant nearly white eyes with a snowflake pattern in each one starred at the receptioness as Elsa set one hand on the surface of the desk. "Is Mr Davrell in ?" From her hand bits of ice seemed to grow from the wood of the desktop surface.
Seeing the ice she quickly removed her hand and the ice disappeared as if it was never there. Her wings remained neatly foldedm, but it as clear she was nervous. But there as a piece of eden there. Sooner she got it, the better. She was not there to fight, only to pick up something important. But if it came to fighting, she'd merely defend herself, nothing more.
They were given a pass of sorts from the guard, and then they were directed towards the main building and told to ask for Mr Davrell. Whomever that person was made Elsa shiver slightly. She felt eyes on her. She thanked the guard and with Mark in tow, headed up the drive as instructed.
Upon entering the main building where words said MAIN ENTERANCE LOBBY she took in what was there carefully, the first room was a lobby of sorts, the basic thing, unlike Arendelle for sure. But it did the job she supposed. And she hoped that Mark was right, the Templars not caring of this location made perfect sense for her. They most likely did not know of the pieces of the puzzle being scattered across this area. Elsa, wings and all, strode up to the reception desk. Brilliant nearly white eyes with a snowflake pattern in each one starred at the receptioness as Elsa set one hand on the surface of the desk. "Is Mr Davrell in ?" From her hand bits of ice seemed to grow from the wood of the desktop surface.
Seeing the ice she quickly removed her hand and the ice disappeared as if it was never there. Her wings remained neatly foldedm, but it as clear she was nervous. But there as a piece of eden there. Sooner she got it, the better. She was not there to fight, only to pick up something important. But if it came to fighting, she'd merely defend herself, nothing more.