Underworld Sanctuary- an Underworld RP « Result #1 on Nov 5, 2009, 1:56pm »
UWS is a brand new Underworld themed RPG based on the events that happen after Underworld Evolutions. We have an open end plot featuring lycans, vampires, as well as humans; and have even gone a step further to introduce hunters into the mix!
UWS has several areas of advanced role play including member created forums as well as basic locations; in addition to a variety of non RP character development activities and OOC games.
We have a number of canon characters available for adoption, as well as several site canons developed specifically for the forum. Members may also post their own adoptable characters for others to choose from in order to help develop their unique storylines. In addition to these premade characters we also have pre-filled character applications for those who are unable to create their own unique characters. These applications are limited in availability, but we are constantly adding to them.
We hope to see you there soon. We’re a friendly group, so don’t be afraid to pm an admin or jump into the c-box if you have any questions or concerns.
It is a theory of scientists that the human race is shifting from one type of evolution into another. For millenia, humans have been evolving physically: bipedalism, larger brains, skull formation. height. It is those adaptations that have allowed humans to thrive in the natural world and have brought us into the modern age.
But what now? In a world where humans have control over the natural world, what is there to advance, to evolve?
The mind. Scientists believe that the time of humans evolving their physical attributes has come to an end, and now it is the mind from which advancement stems. Tabloids and paranormal magazines display stories and "reports" of people moving objects with their mind, seeing objects miles away, even vaporizing into smoke, then reforming moments later. These are,of course, hoaxes. They are peddling nonsense to make an extra buck.
Yet there is a kernel of truth in every tall tale. Humans have been indeed advancing, slowly, sparingly, but something is undoubtedly changing. Those who know about the evolution call those affected "Posthumans." Shady organizations, government-affiliated and private, good, bad, and everything in-between are trying their best to learn as much about this new path of evolution as possible.
It started off as a hunt for information, a basic need to understand the changing world, and ended with an all out war for power. Factions began. Humans for Posthumans. Humans against Posthumans. But what WERE the Posthumans to begin with? How could they be loved or hated if they were not even understood. Scientists were unwilling to capture a Posthuman against it's will, mostly out of fear, but they took every advantage to obtain every corpse they could get their hands on. They stopped at nothing. Ransacking graves, commandeering bodies from morgues. They broke all the rules. And they researched.
The advancement was found to be a certain genetic mutation. Something, that slowly started to happen over time. When the body could no longer physically advance, the mind took to advancing. The genetic makeup of their nervous system, of their brains. Whatever could possibly improve, it began to happen. Whether it was to increase a sense of smell, touch, taste, site. Or to advance the speed capabilities of a body. Perhaps even the gift of looking into the future. Disappearing into smoke. Whatever the change was, a different set of genetic code accounted for it. The scientists found it utterly impossible to catalog and category the mysteries.
There came a time, when too many bodies were missing. There came a time when too many graves were desecrated. And in the end, factions against humans began to spring up. Posthumans began to retaliate, fighting for their rights. For, they were humans too, were they not? There were debates. Riots. Deaths. The violence against normal humans got so out of hand that some Posthumans broke off from their familiars and fought against them, in attempt to save lives.
With the world in such a shambles, and more Posthumans being born or coming into their powers every day, the prevailing questions is this: Allow the advancement to continue? Or nip this mutation in the bud before it gets any worse?
Amelia Marie Administrator {g=3} Wildfire member is offline
Joined: Aug 2008 Gender: Female Posts: 57 Karma: 0
Re: One Hell of a Night « Result #3 on Oct 26, 2009, 11:39am »
She thought she heard something from inside the apartment, and that was good enough for her. Derek would just have to be mad at her later if this was a false alarm. She told the dog to stay back, and when he wouldn’t budge, she picked him up, moved him and glared at him “stay”. Much to her surprise, the dog listened to her and she could return her attention to the door.
Reaching out, she tried to open the door and realized it was locked, but since she didn’t have the keys and thought there wasn’t time to go find someone who did, because something might be terribly wrong, she held on to the doorknob and heated it up until the metal in the lock was soft enough for her to open the door. And when she did, she was glad she had barged in.
“Oh my, Derek,” she said, carefully trying to avoid slipping on the growing pool of blood. Without knowing where things were, she took a chance to see if there were any towels, anything in the bathroom (of course she hurried through to find the room first) she could use to apply pressure to the obvious gun shot wound (seriously, what else could cause that kind of damage? And to a vaporizing man to boot). He must not have seen it coming. Once she found what she was looking for, she hurried back out to Derek, her newest neighbor. This was no way to get to know the man better.
“Stay with me, Derek,” she said as she knelt down next to him, putting the towel to the wound, pressing down to make it stop bleeding. It had been so many years since she’d had anything to do with guns and gunshot wounds, she was almost at loss for what to do, but she had a feeling it’d be a good start to stop him bleeding. Of course, it probably would be better to see if the vaporizing man had an exit wound too, but from the blood on the floor, that seemed reasonable.
“You’re going to be OK, just stay with me now.” She couldn’t guarantee anything, but of course she could always hope for him to survive. It would be a shame if her newest neighbor didn’t make it.
Re: One Hell of a Night « Result #4 on Oct 22, 2009, 9:50pm »
As Derek lay face-down on the floor, his mind sought refuge from the physical world in a strange mesh of memories. His breath was slow, labored. Far back within the recesses of his brain, pictures and dreams both far gone and recent came together to form a confusing series of images, some of which Derek would remember for some time. But first came the smells. Aromas he hadn't picked up for years came flooding back to him. The scent of polished wood when he purchased Amelia's first violin, the perfume his date wore the first night he'd spent with a woman, the smell of his wife Chloe's hair the night of their wedding. He remembered these scents and, for a time, he found solace in his removal from his present state. Then came the scent of the gravel as the stone slab plummeted towards him years ago, the odor of his wife's first cigarette in months when she'd told him what she'd done, the smell of Aleksandra's guns and the near-physical hatred in her voice. As Derek's mind retraced his life in scents, his face contorted, happy, then sad. Pleasure, then pain.
Next came the sounds. Yelling as the stone slab fell, applause as his wife and he kissed before the priest. Amelia's violin. His parents clapping after a long-forgotten school play. Shouting, crying, laughter, cheering, melodies, gunshots. These sounds intertwined themselves with the scents, and the sense of touch followed. Derek could feel his wife's skin as they consummated their marriage, his body dematerialize for the first time as the slab crushed what would have been him. Derek could feel the tattooist's needle jab into his kin, imprinting indelibly upon him the name of the daughter he'd never have. Taste came along as well, and Derek remembered meals, important and otherwise, complete with sounds and sensation.
At last, came the sights. There was Chloe, all smiles and laughter in her white dress, tossing her bouquet behind her. Aunt Claire had caught it, gotten married not two years later. Lucky girl. There was Peter, one of his first friends at work, staring at the stone that he thought had crushed his new best mate. Amelia, young and scared, watching as her brother pummeled the face of a bully to win back something he'd taken from her. There was the tattooist, smiling at the design of "Emily" as he stained the flesh of the happy father-to-be. And then Derek saw Chloe, no longer pregnant. At her side, clutching her hand, was a girl he'd never seen, never heard, never touched, but he'd loved her. He'd loved her for years. Her name was to be Emily, and hard though Derek tried, he could not see her face.
And then, behind Emily and Chloe, was her. The woman who had hunted him. She held a gun in her hands, a look of victory on her face. A cruel and wicked smile, far beyond the boundaries of a human's face, was spread across her foul skin as she lowered the barrel of her gun to Emily's faceless head.
In reality, the physical world, Derek moaned. It was low, yet resonant, pained. A dog outside the door scratched vigorously at the threshold, either curious, or concerned. In his dreams, he saw now only the woman and a smoking barrel, felt only a coldness in his chest, and a silence in his ears. Then she laughed, high. Shrill. As blood continued to seep out of Derek's side, a tear followed suit, traveling down the side of his nose and dropping quietly to the floor. His fever dream continued, and Derek remained on the floor, his moan having ended and only half of him wishing the bleeding would stop.
((Holy fuck that's a depressing read. Amelia, it should be obvious what to do now.))
Amelia Marie Administrator {g=3} Wildfire member is offline
Joined: Aug 2008 Gender: Female Posts: 57 Karma: 0
Re: One Hell of a Night « Result #5 on Oct 22, 2009, 4:06pm »
It was time to figure out certain things from the past, dig out files from the archives and try to figure out what really happened back in the days. Figure out what she threw her life away on. She could’ve become somebody, instead she became a runaway. Had she just owned up to her mistakes, she might’ve been able to do something useful now rather than sit around and pass time.
“Be quiet, will you?”
She’d been trying to get some useful research done, but the little dog wouldn’t shut up, it was almost like it wanted to go out or something. When all else failed, Amelia snapped her book shut, closed her laptop and started at the annoying, adorable little animal. What did he want this time? Surely Maddie and Sylar weren’t around to give the little fur-ball a treat or two, so it seemed she needed to take the thing for a walk, maybe it would be quiet then.
“Ok, ok, you win. Let’s go for a walk then, just shush, will ya?”
Smiling to herself, she found the dog’s leash and let Dog lead the way to the door, only to have him want to run in the wrong direction the minute they were out of the door. Curious as to what had the animal so worked out, and curious about the thud she’d heard around the same time as Dog started barking. But it didn’t make sense for her to be walking this way, she’d been sure she was the only one there for the night, but it seemed she was mistaken.
Finally they stopped in front of a door, and Dog barked more than before. Wait. Wasn’t this where Maddie had told her the new guy (Derek was is?) was staying should he need shelter.
“Derek?” She called before she knocked on the door, “Are you in there?” she felt so stupid, calling out for someone she’d never visited on the account of her dog scratching at the door eagerly, she had no idea why the little beast was acting like he was, but he was seldom wrong.
(OOC: I really didn't know how to get her involved, so I hope this works =))
One Hell of a Night « Result #6 on Oct 20, 2009, 2:48pm »
A bang tore through the night, and as Derek ran he felt himself stumble, sharp pain shooting through the right side of his body. He tripped, shocked, and tumbled off the edge of the building. For a brief moment, as he fell through the air, he was stunned. Had he just been... shot? Upside-down, his back slammed against the adjacent building and shook him from his surprise. More pain travelled like lightning through his body and as the ground rushed to meet him and warm liquid oozed from side, Derek turned to smoke. The descending column of clouds collided with the ground, spreading wide across the pavement with the quiet gasp of rushing air. For a time, all was quiet, painless. The mist swirled about, as if thinking, then rushed off somewhere east, toward some far horizon the sun would greet in only a few hours.
Smoke unfurled as if crawling up the edge of the Safehouse, searching for a particular crack. The dark sky of night still hung over the world. Ah, there it was, just between the window and its sill, through the insulation .The mist travelled through that channel, into the small and cluttered room beyond. It was in this room that Derek re-entered the world. Slick with sweat, he leaned against the boxes here had brought here only hours earlier, wincing in pain as his hand searched for its source. He could feel the warm liquid, blood, coursing in lethargic rivulets down his side, and by now it had almost certainly stained his pant leg. As his fingers found the wound, shooting pain surged through him again, and a yelp escaped his lips, followed by a bit of an embarrassed blush at the sound. He lost his balance for a moment and leaned more heavily on the boxes, dark ovals of moisture seeping through the cardboard as he perspired.
Derek collected himself, hobbling slowly and painfully through the room, drawing sharp and hissing breaths as he walked in search of something. What exactly, he didn't know. Something to stop the bleeding, maybe, something to stop the pain, possible even something just to grip as he waited for the miserable sensation to end. His hand clasped tightly to his side. He other pressed against walls and boxes for support. Was anyone else in the safehouse? Maddie had said something to that effect, if he remembered correctly, but he couldn't be sure.
Derek had reached the door to the rest of the house when his night caught up to him. His vision swam. The hand on the doorknob trembled and Derek felt distant from the world. He rested his forehead against the door, his lungs falling and rising with his heartbeats, crying for air. His muscles told him he was tired, and in its stupor, his mind agreed. With an audible thud, Derek's vision was invaded by the night he had just escaped, and he fell to the floor, limbs splayed and a puddle of red slowly, slowly pooling beside him.
« Last Edit: Oct 22, 2009, 9:17pm by Derek Brodie »
Re: A Bullet In The Mist « Result #8 on Oct 19, 2009, 12:58pm »
My mind was swarming with a constant stream of profanity. So much so, that the silent words were deafening. The pain was crippling. And my heartbeat pulsed dangerously in my ears. I could hear it weakening as I continued to lose blood despite the makeshift tourniquet I had made. I would need to get to a hospital soon. But, that would be tricky. Extremely tricky. I was not exactly the most innocent of people. And I was certainly a wanted woman in my home country. I didn't have the proper documentation to be here, well, not on me. And the documents I did have were fake. I would be found out eventually. But with any luck, I would be strong enough to leave before they could do anything about it. Of course, if I was not able to escape before then, I would be in a fix. I had no option, of course I knew that. I was no doctor. And I had never been faced with this sort of situation before. I cold hardly believe that I had been shot. I couldn't believe that I was going to die if I didn't. It was a scary feeling. I hadn't been this afraid in a long while. But the fear was drowned and forgotten in the force of the anger that I was feeling. I had always had a huge temper. But I was weaponless and alone. So, my situation was looking grim. Would I even survive long enough to get to a hospital? If I didn't, at least I would die in the heat of the hunt. It would be a dignified way to go at least.
But I was not about to give up. Not yet. I am not a failure. And while there was still life in my limbs, I was going to press on. Each step was painful. My leg feeling both numb and heavy, but with every step, the would would flare with a sudden fiery pain. I wanted to lay down. I wanted to give up. I wanted to wait until someone found me and made the pain go away. I was scared. And I hated it. Being vulnerable was unacceptable. Something was going to have to give. Either I would die. Or he would. Maybe he would live to see another day, but I would be back for him. And all of his friends. Derek would not escape. He might win the battle, which would be a grievous loss for my, but he would never win the war. I was giving this fight up. Maybe not willing to just lay down and let him leave, but I was realizing that I might not be able to have this victory. Maybe it was something that I would have to wait for. The idea was not one I was used to, nor one that I enjoyed. But it just might have to do. I just might have to settle. I just might...
My thoughts were cut off by the sound of metal hitting concrete. And suddenly, my hopes were high again. He had dropped the gun. The idiot had dropped the gun. What was he thinking? Did he want me to finish him off right here? Was he finally realizing the error if his existence? I turned towards where the sound had come from, my sharp eyes looking along the ground as my legs struggled to keep up with my eyes and my mind. Where was it? I had to find it. He would be gone soon. I could here his feet beating against the rooftop as he ran. Soon he would vanish into thin air, quite literally, and I would have to begin all over. That thought did not sit well with me. I looked harder. Squinting my eyes against the dark, hoping that I would find the weapon soon. Time was running out. Time was ticking by so slowly I could almost feel myself age... and yet, it was running out faster than I could move. I bit my bottom lip hard, drawing blood. The pain helped me focus on my mission, though my body was growing cold and numb.
THERE! It was there, I saw it. I couldn't reach it yet, but I saw it. And soon, it would be mine again. Soon, it would be mine. My limp was awkward as I tried to move faster. My whole body yearned for the familiar feeling against my palm. It was an inpatients equal to one of a mother who was soon to be reunited with her long lost child. And when my hands closed around the cold hilt, I gave a cry of triumph and happiness. A sound that was almost unnatural. Derek was done for. I spun around, turning as quickly as I could, my eyes searching for the running man. I saw him right away, heading towards the edge of the building. Clever man. He was going to turn to mist and be done with me for good. Or at least he thought. Too bad for him it would be against my best interests to let him leave. He would alert the whole city of my existence. And then, my job would be much harder. I would have to sneak around much more. Perhaps change my appearance just enough for them to blend me into the background.
But, I wouldn't have to. I had the weapon, and his back was to me. My confidence was renewed and I was going to show him that nobody, NOBODY, got away from Aleksandra Fedorov. I lifted the gun, and instantly noticed there was something amiss. As I tried to aim, my sight was blurry, my hands shook. I made a sound of frustration and blinked repeatedly. I couldn't steady my hand, so I brought my other hand up to grip the gun as well. Derek's shape was blurring, but there he was, almost at the edge of the building. He was reaching it. He was going to leave. HE WAS GOING TO ESCAPE! I shot the gun, my eyes narrowed so much, I could hardly see. And whatever happened next, was in the hands of fate. The barrel was empty. The bullets were gone. I had no choice but to wait. If he had died, my work here was done. If he had not... I had failed. And the failure? It was bitter. Bitter and cold and desolate.
Re: A Bullet In The Mist « Result #10 on Oct 15, 2009, 2:40pm »
Derek opened his eyes, praying the woman hadn't died. Been severely inured, maybe, but not dead. The gun trembled in his hands, his teeth gritted as his vision searched for the one who had been trying to kill him. A vague stream of crimson caught his gaze and he followed the trail to the woman shambling across the rooftop. She was injured, her hand gripping the wound as she hobbled toward safety, resorting to crawling across the ground. For now, she was still in Derek's sights, and his heart races. He pointed the gun at her once more. His finger trembled on the trigger as fear rocked his mind. Derek had already wounded her. Another bullet might kill her. Could he do that? Was he capable of simply ending this woman's life right here, right now?The moonlight flashed off of the grun as it quivered, and Derek shut his eyes once more.
He tossed the gun to the ground, the bullet still residing in its chamber. The weapon clattered across the rooftop and Derek remained where he was for a moment. He hadn't shot her. He meant to run, to run far away from this would-be assassin, somewhere safe, somewhere quiet. But now, in this relative peace, free of gunshots and fearful flight, Derek realized he had nowhere to go. She had found his home, his apartment, and defiled the safety of that place as easily as her bullets pierced his couch. he had friends in New York, but none he was willing to place in harm's way. At a loss for a plan, Derek decided to do what had been working rather well so far: run.
His muscles shook with exhaustian, dehydrated and tired. He didn't move for a moment, as if he had simply forgotten how since he had last come to a stop. He heard the woman shuffling about, and willed himself to get up. He had lost sight of the gun after he'd tossed it, but perhaps if he ran fast enough, he wouldn't need to remember it. His hand gripped the pipe next to him, sweaty fingers slipping across humid metal. But he found a solid hold and wrenched himself up. He saw her now, that fallen and vile woman upon the ground, a tourniquet around her wound and rage in her eyes. Derek did not wait long.
He ran, slower now. His adrenaline was wearing out, his tired body realizing its exhaustion while he was still. The Scotsman's limbs were heavy, and his footfalls thudded noisily against the rooftop as he ran. The edge of the building was far away, but once he reached it, he could shift. He could be free of her and go someplace safe, if only for a while. But where?
The Safe House. That was his next residence. Maybe that killer didn't know about it, maybe he could be secure there. Refuge was a rooftop away, and in that short distance, Derek saw eternity. He ran.
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