Born to Kill

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Fluffy, Sep 10, 2010.

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  1. An empty coffee cup, scratch paper and an overused mechanical pencil – All disposed of in the garbage can of a local coffee shop. A man with bleached hair and peach coloured skin stepped out of the sweet smelling shop with an unlit cigarette in his teeth, feeling satisfied that he was now finished with his college duties for the day. His laptop and other essentials sat comfortably in his backpack while he reached into the pocket of his denim pants, pulling out a lighter to flame the correct end of the stick. He was absently toying with the lighter after his cigarette was lit, soon pocketed when he came to a curb where he’d have to wait to cross the street. As he exhaled a breath of smoke, it reoccurred to him what today’s date was. No cake, no candles, no presents… As it should be. What was another year to his age anyway?

    His sapphire eyes looked above his sunglasses, watching the traffic come to an abrupt stop when it was his turn to cross. With his cigarette in hand, the now twenty-year-old man walked briskly in between the white lines painted in the street, dropping his addiction on to the ground because his head was beginning to pulse with a strange pain… The moment he reached the sidewalk on the other side, he grabbed hold of a store corner, the other hand gripping at his scarf as his eyes shut tightly behind the shades on his face.

    The voice of a man echoed in his head as if calling his name. Although he didn’t want to, he found himself going in the opposite direction he was intending to. Outside of town, there was a lone, old tree with weapons that have been waiting a long time for their new masters to arrive so they can be set free from their true forms. Luther Wilcox hadn’t a clue what was propelling him to go this way, not even going back home where his precious motorcycle was. What he wanted more than anything was the headache and blood rush to stop…

    Within that tree, a pair of cestus dangled for dear life upon one of the tree branches. They were sending out signals, hoping to be found and touched once again.
     
  2. Criston sat comfortably in his one bedroom apartment, a cigarette resting loosely in his right hand while his left held open the book "The Sanctuary". He rested languidly, his eyes quickly scanning the pages. As he read, a bit of ash fell to the floor, going completely unnoticed. Where most people wouldn't believe it, even book critics had a deadline to meet, and he needed to give his feedback before the book hit the shelves if he was going to get paid for his input. The apartment was totally silent other than the soft sound of cars driving by the open window. He liked to read in peace, so he could focus all of his attention on the thing he was doing rather than multiple things at the same time. It allowed him to become more involved with the plot -- whether for good or bad. Unfortunately, he had to dredge through way too many vampire books lately for his liking.

    He was just about done with the chapter when there was a sudden commotion outside his window. Irritated by the sudden interruption, he got up and leaned out his window with the all but unsmoked cigarette hanging from his fingers, almost burnt out. Down below, just a block away by the nearby grocery, people were standing and watching a figure blatantly cross the street to the honking of horns. He seemed like he had a purpose. Muttering to himself, he started to close the window to block out the incessant noise when a voice intruded on his thoughts.

    With a frown, he looked about the room, as if someone were playing a trick on him. This failing his senses, he looked out his window once more, where his eyes immediately locked onto a hilltop in the distance with a single tree perched atop it. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he inexplicably felt drawn to this location. Turning and grabbing his book bag and stuffing a few unread volumes in it, he made for the door, pushing it open and completely forgetting to lock it behind him. He fought to ignore the urge, but his brain told him this was exactly what he had been wanting to do for days.

    A nice tree to sit under and read would be a nice change of pace. As he walked determinedly down the street, he pulled out another cigarette from the soft pack of camels in the front pocket of his shirt and flicked the flame alight on his zippo. He thought an absent minded aside to himself as he walked; what could possibly go wrong?
     
  3. [size=-2]
    Cadenza waited in peace, a dim notice of the passage of time was all that she marked in this tree. They had been waiting, souls clutched in the fists of disapproving deities that wished to force them into a repeat of their previous attempts, another chance to prove themselves for some. Cadenza felt restful and untroubled in this form, or rather she did not feel at all. Instead, all she knew was the distinct warmth that crawled through her every morning as the sun rose steadily to bathe her in heat; she could appreciate the feel of the breeze across her. It was times like this, the sweetly promising mornings, that she actually wished for legs to bound through grasses, hair to billow in the breeze and tickle her cheeks tanned by sunlight, and a nose so that she could inhale the fragrance of flowers just coming into blossom.

    Expectancy welled within her and accompanying it, a cold dread. It was true, she missed some facets of being in a human form, she desired a body again to extract delicious pleasure from, but not at the cost of being bonded. Bonded, it went against everything that she wished for, yet it was the accompaniment to her delight. Bonded, the feeling of obligation and belonging to someone, was not what she had ever desired before. Had she a choice, perhaps it would have been different, but she was not in control of the call that echoed silently in the area. Humans were fragile, ethereal, and subject to extreme fits of jealousy, rage, and stupidity. Cadenza needed no human burden.

    Even as she stewed in her bitter thoughts, the impression of the approaching human drew closer. The image began to imprint itself on her, still a silhouette but growing larger as it neared as well as more distinct. "No!" she cried, but there was no sound, she struggled vainly but did not move. There was the human, having reached the tree, with his hand outstretched to grasp the smooth wood of the polearm.
    [/size]
     
  4. The book lay open on the bed, the pages wrinkled beyond recovery by the movements of the sleeping young adolescent next to it. The small bedroom also functioned as living room and kitchen, a small electric stove standing not too far away from a dusty TV. Clothes were everywhere, though garbage was neatly disposed of in a small container next to the stove.

    Patrick moved restlessly in his sleep. The book he had been reading, 'Champion of lore', told of the travels of a young boy in a strange world, fulfilling his destiny as savior of the world. His vivid imagination had recreated this world in his dreams, and he dreamed of beautiful princesses and horrifying monsters, while reliving the adventures in the book he had been reading while falling asleep.

    "Master..."

    Patrick darted up, eyes wide open. Was there someone in his room? Someone whispering to him, as if right besides his ear. He looked around but didn't find anyone in his room. He groaned and closed his eyes again, rubbing against his closed eyelids with the back of his arm sleepily. Obviously the dream he was having was still affecting his psyche, hearing things from out of the blue like that.

    "Master, where are you?"

    The young man, now wide awake, threw his legs over the edge of his bed. The book fell on the ground, page side down, but he barely noticed it. Something strange was going on, but he didn't quite know what. Scratching the back of his head and yawning, he thought about it for a moment and decided to go for some fresh air. He had been cooped up in his room for way too long, he was starting to imagine things. He slipped into his denim jacket casually and stepped into his sneakers, not bothering with the laces as he had not bothered to undo them when he had kicked them off either.

    Before he left the room he listened intently one more time, but he did not hear anything. He did not even hear anything that could have explained the noise, like the TV of the bottom floor neighbor, or the company the guy next door would occasionally have over. Patrick shrugged and walked outside, his hands in his pocket and his neck tucked into his shoulders as he walked towards the supermarket: he might as well do some groceries while he was outside. The old tree in the park drew his gaze, as it had always done when he came walking by. However, this time he could make out something in the branches, something that called out to him with an urgency he could not ignore.

    He crossed the street in a hurry, only quickly glancing at the oncoming traffic to see if it was safe. Stepping into the park and next to the tree he looked slack-jawed at the weapons assembled there. Ignoring the two men standing next to him, his eyes shifted towards the bladed gloves dangling on one of the branches. He had read about these, most of those still existing were museum pieces or in hands of private collectors, and none of them were in this perfect a state.

    Slightly afraid of ruining someones work of art, he reached out and took the Cestus, slipping his hands inside. It was a perfect fit; something that surprisingly enough, didn't surprise him at all. He briefly looked at the others next to him, wondering who had left these here, and what their goal had been...
     
  5. Classes had ended for the day, and not just the day but for the precious few weeks that Eiji got as a break for the summer holidays. He has been on his way to his apartment, taking the long way and consorting freely with his classmates. One by one they disappeared onto trains and other streets until he was alone. Then he felt it, a beckoning presence.

    The world blotted out of his mind save for a few of the more noticeable earthly entities, the young man followed the calling. Before he knew it Eiji was standing at the base of a tree, looking towards a series of weapons that were just sitting there. A stern look crossed his face and he wondered why he was drawn there.
     
  6. While the tree came into view, Luther could also see three others. His eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, an eyebrow also raising as he examined them. He hadn't been outside of the city very often because he knew there was nothing out here... So what were their reasons?

    'Great...' He thought to himself, loosening his scarf before he came to a stop by the group.

    With an emotionless expression, Luther looked up at the tree and spotted a unique looking sword with a sheath hiding in the leaves and branches. He chortled, hastily gripping its hilt and looking to the other three,

    "Did the museum get stolen from and this is where the thieves stashed it?"

    Soon as his question was over, the sword in his hand started to glow. One by one, each and every one of the weapons were emitting their own colour. For some reason, he couldn't drop the sword, so instead he held it away from him as far as he could.

    "The hell?" He muttered.

    With wide eyes, he watched the spiky glove-like objects in another male's possession burst into an explosion of pink light.

    Standing there in front of Patrick, her hands in his, was a woman appearing to be in her late teens who was dressed in armour, her hair extremely long and hot pink. She made a long yawn and then exhaled heavily, evident relief on her face.

    "I've lost track of the years I've been trapped like that! You're my hero, Patrick!"

    She excitedly put a series of kisses all over his face, giggles escaping her lips afterward. Before she could get too excited, she stopped herself and looked to the other humans as they held the weapons they were destined to wield.

    "My dear siblings! Our time's finally come..."

    The mysterious woman trailed off as she looked at her surroundings. There were tall buildings in the distance and these humans dressed oddly...


    Luther wanted to keep his cool as he always could. He nervously bit his bottom lip, still trying to drop his weapon. After just witnessing what happened to the other man, he didn't want the same to happen to him. Not today.
    'This was not on my birthday wish list!'
     
  7. [size=-2]
    Cadenza essentially fought, the entire time she was transforming into her human form. The result of this was, rather ignominiously, her falling into a heap at the base of the tree in a tangle of blond hair and dark cloth. She flailed her arms and made angry noises for a moment in the grass before realizing how undignified she looked and standing up.

    Gruffly, she looked around at the people assembled, looked at her siblings, and dusted off her skirt. "Well, thanks for violating me with your fingers, but if you could just put me back in the tree, that would be great of you" her petulant expression and crossed arms were directed to the entire group since she didn't know who had touched her weapon, their bond was only partially formed due to her own stubbornness so she could tell what he was feeling, sort of, and he could pick up on her sour mood but other than that, they were not linked.
    [/size]
     
  8. Adjusting his glasses, Criston peered at the woman standing before him, amazement clearly plastered on his face; or at least, clearly plastered for him. Cadenza could probably tell what he was feeling about this whole turn of events, but in his calm demeanor he tried to cover it so the rest of the gathered wouldn't. Raising an eyebrow, he reached out and poked her in the side to make sure she was real and not just some figment of his overworked imagination. Clearing his throat, he adjusted the bag hanging over his shoulder that was filled with the minor things he had grabbed before leaving and looked her up and down with his eyes. "I'm not really all that sure I can do that. Believe me, if I could, I would." The statement sounded bitter, but was not intended to be that way. That was just the way he was.

    Looking around at the others with their own "weapons," if they were to be called that now, he turned his steady gaze back to the woman before him and thought for a moment. It wasn't that he didn't like women, he just wasn't that fond of people on principle. He was going to ask her a question, opening his mouth momentarily to find out what exactly was going on, but thought better of it. This was clearly not going to end well for him, so he simply sat himself down in front of the tree, leaned back on one arm.

    His other hand worked a cigarette out of the pack at his chest and put it to his lips. They helped him think, and that was something he clearly needed to do at the moment. Staring up into the light speckled leaves of the tree, he casually lit his cigarette, pretty much completely ignoring her visually. He was more focused on the fact she was a physical weapon at first, and was now transformed into a weapon of a completely different type that, unfortunately, would more than likely work very well against himself.

    Needless to say, her sour mood only made him that much more melancholy. "What to do?" He muttered to himself, taking a drag off the smoke and exhaling through his nose.
     
  9. Detorqueo felt a new hand grasp his hilt. His new wielder. Luther, was the man's name." You took your time," growled the weapon, his mental voice echoing and distorted. "There is work to be done."

    Reality visibly distorted itself, seeming to warp and boil, as Detorqueo changed. Rather than the sudden transition of his siblings, he twisted and flowed, seamlessly shifting from deadly implement to a man of average height, with long black hair that irridesced faintly and malevolent, violet eyes. He was naked, but after a glance around, reality vomited again and strands of being flowed up from the ground to form into a black longcoat, black trousers, and a featureless midnight blue shirt.

    "You are entirely too enthusiastic, Lydia," he drawled, then turned to look at his new Wielder.

    "You'll be Luther, then. You don't look nearly strong enough to be one of those foolish Gallic brutes, although that is arguably a positive. I suppose it's too much to hope for that you're a trained swordsman as well? Ah, well. You'll figure out soon enough which end goes in the enemy, otherwise I'll find myself with a new Wielder sooner rather than later."

    He reached over and stole Criston's cigarette, taking a drag, then looking down at the cancer stick appreciatively. "Much better than pipe weed. I think I could grow to enjoy this."

     
  10. "...What?"

    Luther already liked this stranger better as a sword. As a male, he could appreciate the fine craftsmanship of a sword and he could recall a delightful sense of power when he held it. Now? It was some guy that was speaking in words Luther could not understand. He spoke of 'enemies' and 'work needing to be done'. As far as Luther was concerned, all the work he had was in school and his enemies were anyone that opposed him.

    As Detorqueo snatched a cigarette from Criston, he made half of a frown and touched the box of cigarettes he had hiding in one of his pockets. The sword liked smoking? There's one thing they had in common so far.
    He put a hand to one half of his face and sighed lightly, the tips of his fingers reaching out for his sunglasses afterward to remove them. They hung in the neck of his shirt and he let his eyes adjust to the brighter scenery before speaking,

    "You're a sword... That turns into a man? Okay, fine. But how the hell do you know my name and..what enemies?"
     
  11. [size=-2]
    Cadenza sighed, realizing she had been a touch too harsh with him, especially when it really wasn't his fault. She couldn't help but snort at Detorqueo taking Criston's cigarette before plopping down rather ungracefully next to Criston at the base of the tree. She glanced over at him beneath heavy lashes before speaking.

    "So... I guess... you don't have a choice, huh? But neither do I, it's just going to hurt you eventually if I don't let it happen so I suppose, prepare yourself for the utter level of weirdness the others are complaining about..." she closed her eyes and it was akin to breaking through virgin flesh as she allowed him entrance into her mind and at the same time punctured his. A flood of emotions swirled through her, some her own and some foreign.

    "Ah.... Criston? You're going to have to learn to use a polearm, too..."
    [/size]
     
  12. ]He started, not once, but twice -- first, his cigarette was gracefully plucked from him, and he frowned, his eyebrows lowering ever so slightly. But after a moment's debate with himself, he decided he would rather not get on the wrong side of a man that used to be a weapon. The hell was he supposed to know if the man's arm would turn back into a sword to slice his head from his shoulders like so much velveeta cheese?

    The second, of course, was the sudden influx and intrusiveness into his mind of new emotions from someone else -- creepily, a lot of them were very much the same as his own, but they had a definite difference to them. He could just tell that, while it was something he indeed would think, it was not his own personal thought. This was going to take some getting used to, especially considering how much he really was untrusting of other people to begin with ... now he had some strange person connected directly to him, and it was just disconcerting. Glancing at the man speaking of the Gallic tribes and raising an eyebrow, he looked back to Cadenza. He just looked at her the entire time he lit another cigarette for himself, all the way through inhaling on it once more.

    "So what the hell are you?" Was his most uncomely response, but more than likely, knowing her attitude as he clearly did now, she would like that. Patting his bag to indicate what was inside, where she could hear the thumping of books, he shrugged, "Hate to break it to you, Cade, but I'm more of an intellect kind of guy. Not exactly muscle and swishing weapons to hack things off." He shuddered at the thought, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips, watching her and looking her over, waiting for a reply.
     
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mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> Ooc: Sorry about not posting for so long. There are two reasons for this. The first… I forgot about the RP… again… The second is that life attacked me with a stick. I’ll try to keep posting regularly, but the real world is pretty busy at the moment. Also, sorry for the short crappy post.

    Kokuyouseki, silently hanging in the tree for all this time, was beginning to sense the presence of individuals approaching. One by one, humans began to gather below. And with the arrival of each, one of his siblings was chosen. He watched as they were taken in hand and took upon themselves human forms. Finally, it appeared to be his turn. A young human male stood below, looking up into the tree. While Kokuyouseki was still in the form of a sword, he gazed down at the human, examining him closely. After a few seconds, he finally came to a conclusion. ‘A week… no, maybe five days… Yeah, that’s about how long this one will last…’ Kokuyouseki waited for the human to take him into his hands. Only then could he take a human form and communicate. More importantly, get the hell out of this damned tree. Secretly, Kokuyouseki was beginning to hate this tree with a passion.
     
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