P
Psychedelic
Guest
Original poster
Information and sign up is here: http://www.iwakuroleplay.com/showthread.php?t=18784
On with the roleplay!!!!
The time for the meeting was close at hand. The pressure around the whole event was building like an infected blister, just aching to burst. Everyone in the house was tense, flinching at the slightest mention of that dread word. Politics.
It was what it all inevitably came down to, even in the case of a dying, mutated human race. They all had to go about shaking hands, schmoozing with the higher ups, buying expensive, usually tasteless gifts. It was an exercise in futility, and pretty much everyone knew it, save for those at the highest end of the spectrum. Those people were too far gone to admit that all this brown nosing was just a waste of time when the enemies numbers grew day by day, while theirs inevitably diminished.
One of the few who was outspoken about her unerring hatred of all the pandering was a young woman with a chip on her shoulder. She was renowned for her acid tongue, skill at arms and knees with an uncanny ability to find the crown jewels. Mena Blake. She was a real go getter.
This young woman should have been highly sought after, but her attitude caused most bachelors and their parents to much prefer a slightly safer option, even if the match was less advantageous. Most anticipated Mena disgracing her family sooner rather than later, at which point she would become available to the more desperate commoner classes. Let them have her.
Thankfully, this had not happened yet, and so the Alpha family boarded the chartered aeroplane that was bound for London, happily seating themselves to the front of the cabin. Others came after them, the others who attended the ward, though of course a select militia remained behind, charged with protecting the peace while the rest of the hunters were away. It was seen as an urchins job, but the skill of these men left behind had to be phenomenal, they just happened to be born to less illustrious families.
Despite a large contingent of the party smuggling weapons into the cabin, the twelve hour flight was comfortingly uneventful, save for a nasty bit of turbulence somewhere in the middle of the journey. All in all, it was a relaxing place to be, although boredom was bound to set in. Flying wasn't really a good thing for those used to being extremely active, and also on high alert, reacting to any tiny, seemingly meaningless noise.
Again, the convoy of luxury business cars, along with the odd mini bus, was not disturbed by any unwarranted attention, be it from demon or curious passer by. The vehicles made it past the electronically controlled iron gates, proceeding up the gravel drive which was occasionally littered with a group of finely bred highland cattle. There were sheep too, of course, and somewhere far quieter, the red deer made their home on the estate.
The grand house itself was what anyone would expect. A 19th century style grand entrance greeted the visitors, though inside the manor was an amalgamation of different periods and styles. As times changed, so had the building, evolving along with its masters, and also falling with them. The stable block had never been rebuilt after the war, and so all that remained of it was a few rogue bricks that made up the foundations.
The young hunter, Mena, didn't actually take much of this in. Yes, it was a great setting, but that didn't change who she was. She headed up to her room - private, of course - and immediately proceeded to hide weapons around the place. A knife under the pillow, a gun tucked into the sash of the curtains. Another gun just inside the wardrobe, and several other little surprises in various other places.
With the important bits of unpacking done, the ebony haired female headed downstairs, grey eyes constantly surveying others for any untoward signs. Mena was always business, and her business was slaughter - well, slaughter on the sly. She was vicious, but her official role was still as a medic. It was her destiny as a female, and for now she had to play ball, or else risk ruining her life, and that of her family. She was still dressed casually, jeans, her trusty leather jacket (a gun holstered there, of course), and a plain old t-shirt underneath that. Later on there would be a more formal gathering, but as over the next couple of days others were still arriving, that occasion would not occur for another three days.
On with the roleplay!!!!
The time for the meeting was close at hand. The pressure around the whole event was building like an infected blister, just aching to burst. Everyone in the house was tense, flinching at the slightest mention of that dread word. Politics.
It was what it all inevitably came down to, even in the case of a dying, mutated human race. They all had to go about shaking hands, schmoozing with the higher ups, buying expensive, usually tasteless gifts. It was an exercise in futility, and pretty much everyone knew it, save for those at the highest end of the spectrum. Those people were too far gone to admit that all this brown nosing was just a waste of time when the enemies numbers grew day by day, while theirs inevitably diminished.
One of the few who was outspoken about her unerring hatred of all the pandering was a young woman with a chip on her shoulder. She was renowned for her acid tongue, skill at arms and knees with an uncanny ability to find the crown jewels. Mena Blake. She was a real go getter.
This young woman should have been highly sought after, but her attitude caused most bachelors and their parents to much prefer a slightly safer option, even if the match was less advantageous. Most anticipated Mena disgracing her family sooner rather than later, at which point she would become available to the more desperate commoner classes. Let them have her.
Thankfully, this had not happened yet, and so the Alpha family boarded the chartered aeroplane that was bound for London, happily seating themselves to the front of the cabin. Others came after them, the others who attended the ward, though of course a select militia remained behind, charged with protecting the peace while the rest of the hunters were away. It was seen as an urchins job, but the skill of these men left behind had to be phenomenal, they just happened to be born to less illustrious families.
Despite a large contingent of the party smuggling weapons into the cabin, the twelve hour flight was comfortingly uneventful, save for a nasty bit of turbulence somewhere in the middle of the journey. All in all, it was a relaxing place to be, although boredom was bound to set in. Flying wasn't really a good thing for those used to being extremely active, and also on high alert, reacting to any tiny, seemingly meaningless noise.
Again, the convoy of luxury business cars, along with the odd mini bus, was not disturbed by any unwarranted attention, be it from demon or curious passer by. The vehicles made it past the electronically controlled iron gates, proceeding up the gravel drive which was occasionally littered with a group of finely bred highland cattle. There were sheep too, of course, and somewhere far quieter, the red deer made their home on the estate.
The grand house itself was what anyone would expect. A 19th century style grand entrance greeted the visitors, though inside the manor was an amalgamation of different periods and styles. As times changed, so had the building, evolving along with its masters, and also falling with them. The stable block had never been rebuilt after the war, and so all that remained of it was a few rogue bricks that made up the foundations.
The young hunter, Mena, didn't actually take much of this in. Yes, it was a great setting, but that didn't change who she was. She headed up to her room - private, of course - and immediately proceeded to hide weapons around the place. A knife under the pillow, a gun tucked into the sash of the curtains. Another gun just inside the wardrobe, and several other little surprises in various other places.
With the important bits of unpacking done, the ebony haired female headed downstairs, grey eyes constantly surveying others for any untoward signs. Mena was always business, and her business was slaughter - well, slaughter on the sly. She was vicious, but her official role was still as a medic. It was her destiny as a female, and for now she had to play ball, or else risk ruining her life, and that of her family. She was still dressed casually, jeans, her trusty leather jacket (a gun holstered there, of course), and a plain old t-shirt underneath that. Later on there would be a more formal gathering, but as over the next couple of days others were still arriving, that occasion would not occur for another three days.