Kat's First Test Thread (No posting please)

warning: sexual themes
The lass sauntered away from the table where the maps lay out, dragging her nails lightly across the wooden cabinet nearby and grinned at Marlowe. She rested her back against a bare table and watched the sweet liquor he held in his hand drop into the glass. She could already taste the decadent flavor that came with it. Emily smiled a little at the explanation. She hadn't overreacted. It was normal. The girl was another sea dog like the rest of them and nothing special.

Emily felt a wave of relief wash over her as the captain handed her a glass. She took it with ease and downed the fiery liquid. It burned the back of her throat, seeking her to pull down the hair tie that held her luscious waves together. Emily's eyes closed as he took her soft strands into his fingers, then pulled slightly, directing her attention to him as he moved in closer. Her body burned with desire, fingers itching to roam his body. In that moment, she lost all of her senses. His lips crushed her own, bruising the edges, making her mad with need.

Emily hopped up on the table and wrapped her hands in his collar, fervently pulling the pirate in. Her hands roamed his chest, her tongue explored every inch of his mouth. She savored every part, fingers coiling into his black hair and heart racing constantly. She let her hands move down the back of his neck and towards the open flaps of his coat. She longed for him ever since the crew began talking about the girl, eager to meet the pretty lass. It was only temporary, but business was business.

Emily pushed the coat away from his shoulders, the large piece of fabric falling swiftly to the floor. Her hands went up his loose fitting shirt for a moment before pulling that away from her sight. She reveled in the prize before her, lips moving against his own, trailing down his jaw and neck as she ran the tips of her fingers against the outline of his shoulder blades. "God, it feels like it's been ages since I've touched you," she breathed, her voice thick with want as she tossed her hair to one side and continued to indulge in the fine man standing before her.


Ysabel eyed the man in confusion as he bowed before her. The French accent made him attractive, but the bowing did not. Was he trying to insult her? She stood on guard, wary of the kindness he showed her. Pirates weren't aristocrats and vice versa. She had no place among the others; The captain was only being accomodating, if you could call it that, because of the crowns she'd paid to stage a kidnapping. Ysabel forced a smile as he ticked off suggestions on what to with her dress. His casually pleasant words were making her nervous.

Ysabel nodded in silence at his suggestions; She could either toss it or take it to the seamstress on board. Ysabel reluctantly followed Jean for the time being, feeling lost on the large ship. She wasn't sure what she was looking for or where she would go after; Well, she had no clue what her future would be. She didn't even have an idea of what she wanted to do. Freedom was her only reason for going, but there was nothing definite about freedom. Where were they going? Where was she going?

Ysabel shook her head in astonishment at his words. Indisposed? The man was a hedonist. What about figuring out where she was going to sleep? What about eating? "I don't care if he takes his privacy seriously," she proclaimed callously, stepping inside the room. The last thing she would allow the captain to get away with was touching her so intimately in front of her husband and feeling helpless in the moment. "He touched me and he deserves to be reprimanded."

She walked around the room, being careful not to touch anything. It smelled a bit musty and there seemed to be hardly anything except for a chest on the far side, a few drawers, and a box on the table in the middle. Everything was meticulously situated in such a fashion that it was easy to find whatever someone was looking for. Ysabel thought the area was quite organized for a pirate. She grimaced at the strange atmosphere it held though. "What is this room used for?" she inquired, turning a corner and letting her eyes fall on the chest. She opened it, then quickly shut it after seeing what was in there. Her curiosity was satisfied in that moment. "So this is where you clean up people and perform operations," she mused calmly, turning away from the chest. She could only hope he wasn't trying to pull any funny business. "It's interesting, if I have anything to say about it."
 
Last edited:
The sound of hooves marched across the dirt road. Fall leaves crunched and Hatsumi could hear her noble steed casually kicking small pebbles to the side. "It's a beautiful morning," she commented out of the blue. It'd been quiet the last few hours. Hatsumi was content hearing the wind without listening to her lady maid blabber on about safety. It was true that the woods weren't always secure, but that notion didn't hold Hatsumi back from experiencing the renewal of Kyoto's weather.

It wasn't any less sound in Takeshi's household, which made this small trip towards the shrine near her husband's house a pleasant occurrence. She rode astride a copper mare, while her friend, Riko, rode astride a white stallion. They were both in exquisite shape, courtesy of the stable boy. "Yes, it is, but when will we go back? Don't you feel we've traveled enough already?" Riko inquired nervously, her hands tightly gripping the reins. "Stop it. You're making a big fuss out of nothing. Takeshi won't mind if we disappeared for a couple hours. He doesn't think highly of me," Hatsumi stated, rolling her eyes.

The leaves rustled and a sudden eerie wave came rushing through. "Stop," Hatsumi demanded, glancing around the area. Off in the distance, shadows played. She squinted, the figures growing larger and larger. "People. Out of the road, Riko!" Her mare instinctively rose up in the air, perceiving the oncoming strangers as a threat. Hatsumi's fingers slipped from the reins as she fell backwards, unprepared. She screamed as her head hit the ground. The sticks from the bushes dug little holes in her kimono. She groaned in pain.

"Hatsu- Woah!" Riko turned her horse away from the road as five men in armor blasted through, chasing another that stood out in the midst of the moment. They went away just as quickly, set on catching the man in front, and Riko gasped, getting off her horse and scurrying over to her friend. "You're hurt," she cried, unsure what to do in the shock of the moment. "What do we tell your husband?" Hatsumi smiled, slowly sitting up. Her head felt heavy, dizzy even. She stared off into space for a moment before replying, "Tell him I'm fine. Give me the medicine kit and I'll treat myself. Go back and let Takeshi know what happened."

Riko retrieved her own horse and the small medicinal kit filled with herbs. "Are you sure you'll be alright? Let me treat you," she told Hatsumi. "I'll be fine. Who were the men after? Do you know what he looked like?" Riko shook her head, reluctantly handing the medicine kit over. She was unable to recall anything specific. "He looked like he was bleeding though, but he flew by so fast, I can't tell whether that's true or not. The others were wearing armor. Stay here while I go back. You need to rest. Your husband and the doctor will be here quickly." Hatsumi saw her friend off and touched the back of her head. No blood, thank the Gods and Goddesses. Hatsumi signed, trying to recall the man she'd saw astride the horse. Hatsumi couldn't remember except for Riko saying he looked like he was bleeding. Hatsumi stood up with the small box in hand and began to walk down the ravine on the side of the road. There was a waterfall and small lake nearby. She could treat her head injury there. It wasn't good to rest in the open among the woods. There were crude men out there who would do anything once they found a lady on the side of the road, resting or not.

Hatsumi lifted her dress and moved among the trees, being careful not to step into any piles of ants or branches splayed across the rocky terrain. The mista of cool water began to cover the air after she'd been traveling for a while. The backend of her dress caught on a branch and she ripped it from nature's hand. Her hair was unkempt and her legs weak. She'd never been subject to walk this far. Hatsumi hoped her horse would return soon to her. She would be unable to move along without proper guidance if she had to walk back to Takeshi's house on her low heels.

Hatsumi sighed in relief as the waterfall and lake surrounding it presented themselves. She collapsed in a heap on a huge nearby and breathed, laughing slightly. "I made it," she breathed, sitting up and taking her hair accessories out. She took off the top half of her kimono and began to concoct a small remedy for the itchiness she felt on her right shoulder blade. A few scratches had appeared there when she'd fallen from her horse, but it was nothing major. She mixed the water and the crushed peppermint leaves together and daintly pressed them against her skin. It felt refreshing. She smiled, taking off her heels. Her feet ached and she wondered why she'd bothered to leave so quickly without wearing the right equiment. Sometimes, she was just as reckless as Takeshi's son was.

Hatsumi's brown eyes surveyed the quiet area. The birds chirped and the bees buzzed over yellow and pink flowers nearby. She stopped what she was doing for a moment as a new spectacle came into view. Someone was over there on the other side; she could hear the slight scratching on the rock's surface. Was that a cave? Hatsumi felt her heart lodge in her chest. She didn't know who the stranger was, but it was better to face your anxieties rather than turn away. Hatsumi dipped her feet in the cool water and grabbed her things before waddling over to the other side. The current was not as silent as she'd hoped it would be. She was not tact in moving gracefully among the flow of water. "Excuse me, sir?" That came out too quickly. She hoped it was a man. She hadn't thought of any woman sitting around a cave nestled in the woods. Hatsumi chewed the inside of her mouth, slowly approaching the person hidden from the sun.

"Are you alright?"
 
Last edited:
Alysia snorted at Matthias' statement. Miraculous sleep, shoe loose, damn him. This wasn't a game and she would slit his throat in front of her father should he wish her to do so. His cheeky words boiled her blood and she was already annoyed by his meager attempts to talk like he was in the right. The elf pursed her lips in frustration, pride masking the feeling of insecurity. The shoe probably fell off on their way back, it was nothing new. They trained their horses to certain extremes and that was one of the consequences. They would bring the horses to the stables as soon as possible.

"You know, my father won't stand for this. Once he realizes what's happened, his men will be here in a matter of days. If your king decides that I should die, he'll only be placing his own head on the chopping block. Quite a desperate move to try and sway the war, I should say. A desperate move for a desperate man."

Alysia's knuckles grew white. She fought the urge to bring out her sword and lay it against the boy's throat. "Shut your mouth," Eranda growled at the human. The princess gave a small internal sigh of relief, but still felt the crushing need to be aggressive. He had a way with words, practically begging for his death with those confident assertions. A desperate move for a desperate man, huh? Hardly desperate, she thought sourly. It was justice, not desperation. How old was he anyways? Didn't the prince know that his stupid declarations would be used against him? They'd hang him for all Alysia knew.

The beautiful, pristine architecture of Alysia's home entered her view. She grinned and beared the prince's disobedience, or at least tried to. Now, he was complaining about the bump on his head. "Stop whining," she snapped, her body whipping around to glare at Candatheus' heir. "You'll be taken care of." Everyone let their horses come to a stop and Alysia hopped down. Reeves grabbed the prince by the back of his shirt and pulled him off the mare. "Leif, attend to the horses. One of them has a loose shoe," Alysia told the stable boy as he approached the small group. "Reeves, we're bringing the boy to my father. Eran, Cole, you both need to rest. I'll be by later." Everyone obeyed her orders and she smirked once more. "Oh, I can't wait to see what my father decides to do with you," she stated conceitedly, glancing over at the prince. The boy put on such a big front, but she could see fear behind his eyes and it excited her.

"Welcome to Kyse Dorei, human. There's so much we need to discuss."

Reeves and Alysia entered the hall and she made a beeline towards the throne room where her father was waiting. She stopped just before she entered and let one of the guards announce her and Knight Reeves, along with their petty hostage. The throne room was huge, red and gold carpets laid out among pristine gray tiles. The chairs that her mother and father sat on were decorated with gold, rubies, emeralds, and other jewels that they'd harvested from the mines to the west. Alysia smiled gently at her parents, doing a quick nod of her head to acknowledge their presence. It was impossible to do a curtsy in the armor she wore. Her father, hardened and still in mourning, grimaced at the sight of his hostage. He didn't seem all that competent and he was not what he'd been expecting. Everyone knew King Armandus had a son, but they didn't know what he looked like, and Alysia's father was shocked, to say the least.

Reeves bowed while still holding the prisoner in hand. "What a surprise. This is Armandus' son and heir?" Alysia's father questioned, getting straight to the point. "Bring him closer." King Odotheus gestured Reeves to come as he stepped down from his throne. Prince Matthias was thrown to the ground on his knees. "Look at me." The king suddenly grasped the prisoner's chin. Prince Matthias was young. "How old are you?" he inquired gruffly, steely grey eyes boring into the human's head. Rasha pranced over to Matthias and began to sniff him. "Go away, Rasha. Prince Matthias, Armandus put a dent in my crown." Alysia itched to hear the part where her father praised her, but got none. Her father was more interested in disposing of the nuisance in front of him and most likely, seriously considering his death in the near future. "These are grave times and desperate times call for desperate measures. Do you know why you're here?"
 
Last edited:
Winifred ♢ Blacksmith Shop ♢ Melkorka Gustaaf, Brynjar Erikkson
​
Winifred's curiosity peaked for a brief moment as she watched Brynjar make his way toward the back with the large box in hand. He was a... rather jovial fellow. It made her a litle jealous. She was hardly the kind of woman one could look at and see that she was happy. Winifred was never genuinely happy, or at least, that's what she felt. She supposed she enjoyed being in that house, surrounded by children, but everything always lead back to stupid feelings of jealousy and insecurity. Why couldn't she be carefree? Why couldn't she act like there was nothing wrong and go about her day with a smile on her face? She sighed as Melkorka piped up again in a smooth and calm tone. "As for you Winifred, the same amount of silver as last time. Is that okay with you?" Winifred nodded as she fished out ten silver coins from her purse, then placed them on the table. "Thank you," she mumbled, tightening her purse and taking one last look at her sword.

The man who'd come only a few minutes ago, Brynjar, abruptly coughed. Winifred glanced up, just as she decided to take her leave, and let the male continue with their conversation. She'd had half a mind to leave, hopefully before he showed up, but he was here now, and it would be rude to leave without finishing what he started. "Ah, you want me to buy something by telling me to buy something. Lovely way to sell your things. I'm Winifred," she told Brynjar, inexpressive. It wasn't that she hated talking to people, or hated people in general, she just felt the consistent need to isolate herself and not open up about anything. It was better to let other people ramble on about themselves and what they had to say, rather than focusing the attention on her. She prayed it stayed that way. "The Earl will do whatever he likes. If someone gave me a hundred gold coin, I'd happily slit the bastard's throat," She replied bluntly, without batting an eyelash.

The townspeople were expected to watch their tongue but Winifred didn't grow up in a place where being passive was key. If she had something, by the Gods, she'd say it, no matter whether it hurt someone or not. When you were frank, you got around, but conniving rich men like Earl Thorvald did not. The sound of horns began to play and she groaned in complaint. He was here. She stopped for a moment, listening from afar, albeit not very good. He was loud, but his sermon didn't interest her, so she barely played a part in trying to understand every word he said. "Can't go another day without acting like an arrogant shrewd, can he? Ignorant fool," she muttered. One day every citizen would be taxed so highly they would die before the next tax day came around. That's how frustrating and irrational it was. He was a beast who only cared for himself and that would one day be his demise. "He thinks we have time for parties, but we don't. f I wanted to eat and drink at this festivity, I'd be in the tavern getting drunk because of how much damn work I have to do every day with little to no sleep."
 
Last edited:
Sweat ran profusely down her forehead, water dripping into her eyes and stinging them. She made the mistake of closing her eyes for a split second to try and remedy the sting. Her blue eyes flashed open and she came face to face with a damp tree. Her reflexes drove her body to the left as she twisted her hips and dove out of the way, another arrow flying past the side of her head. She cursed as the arrow grazed her ear and cheekbone. It stung like a thistle leaf, a small piece of mother nature with razor sharp edges. Maeve grunted as she swiftly hopped over a large tree trunk laying in the forest. Another arrow flew.

"Get back 'ere ya wench!" Another arrow. She ducked, the piece of wood flying straight over her head. They were rounding her area now and the moment one of the men jumped over the tree trunk, she pulled out her dagger lightning fast and carved a deep cut across his stomach. "Ya bastard! Yer gonna pay for that, ya witch!" Their freakish foreign dialect was giving her a headache. She was completely over her head when she thought about making some kind of deal to make them forget this encounter even happened. Maeve jumped up and tried to run out of the area, but the foreigners bested her.

The young rogue suddenly felt a strong tug. Something thick hit her ankle and within that moment, she landed in the mud face down. She let out a groan. "Ah." Her hand went down to where her stomach was. A medium sized stick poked her stomach a little too hard. That was bound to leave a nice purple greenish bruise. Her head felt light. She hadn't been very good at salvaging the last of fresh water in her canteen. Maeve, completely unrecognisable now by the mud she carelessly sloshed in, frustratingly began to stand up. Her hand searched for something nearby to hold onto and help keep her steady. "Dammit."

"Is this 'er, mate?"

"Aye, Dario. Even with all that mud, she still looks like 'er."

Maeve could feel the tip of a blade forcefully pressing against her neck. She let out a small chuckle of amusement as she wiped the mud off her face. "Oh no boys, you caught me," she spoke half-halfheartedly, pretending to be surprised at the capture. "What ever shall I do?" The main male, short and stubby, seemed to catch onto her mocking. "Yer gonna surrender to us, that's what," he responded brusquely, poking her neck even further with the sword, "Lay down yer dagger and we won't kill ya." She let out a self-deprecating laugh. Damn these humans. "See the thing is, I don't want to surrender."

"Kill the damn fool, Robbie!" Slater, one of the other men cried out, shaking his fist in anger and agony. He was a wee fellow. The man appeared as if he was about to break down in tears. She was certain he'd break his teeth if kept gritting them like that. "She ain't gonna bow down to the likes of us!" Maeve gave a huge sigh of defeat. "You should probably listen to him, you know. I'm a wanted woman." Robbie, the main male, lifted a bushy brow at her. "Now listen 'ere little lady," he spat, "His Majesty wants you alive. Now, yer comin' with us, or we slit yer throat."

Maeve had been on the run for years. It was a miracle that another band of scalawags came searching for her. The bounty was a large one though, so she couldn't blame them. Maeve smiled as if she'd just seen an angel, and nonchalantly slid down into the mud again. "Mm, I think not. Do you want some mint, by the way?" she questioned, holding up a small green leaf with smooth edges and creases. "Your breathe stinks." He pushed the sword in further and she felt something run down her neck. Blood. He wasn't messing around.

"Sorry for being blunt," she mumbled under her breath. "I just thought it'd be nice to freshen up your breath for the ladies." She sat wistfully, giving the small group of... eh, not merry men- more like angry men, a big smile. They narrowed their eyes and scratched their asses. One even decided to pick something out of his tooth; steamed corn from his fairly recent meal. "Why aren't ya doin' anythin' 'bout this? Fight back, ya bloody woman!" piped up Slater, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment. He was clearly not enthusiastic about Maeve's casual gestures to those who were about to turn her in as hostage to the elven king.

"Yer jus' sittin' there, girl! Ya don' care, do ya?!"

"Why, you haven't even tied me up yet? What are you chubby little men waiting for? The Gods to come and grant you safe passage? Me to suck your tiny little cocks? Get on with the show, for Gods sake. You're terrible at kidnapping."

"Tie 'er up, Dario."

A stocky man came to her side with a rope and Robbie turned to focus his attention on the other men. She smiled at Dario as she willingly allowed the man to begin tying up her hands. Her blue eyes twinkled with mischief. He seemed to be having a little bit of trouble. "Oh, don't forget my ankles too, so I don't run away." She gave him a charming grin and she could see the faintest hint of a blush crawling up his neck. Maeve glanced around for her dagger. "If you think you're gonna leave, think twice," Dario told her sourly, fumbling with the large rope. She shook her head.

"I'm just feeling hopeless and scared. You guys caught me," she mumbled, the innocence all too fake. She caught a glimpse of something shining in the dirt. She stuck her leg out to try and bring the dagger to her, then leaned in towards him, as if she were about to plant a kiss on his lips. "Hey, you got something in your hair," she murmured. "Oh? I do?" The man was caught off guard for a brief moment and she found her spot.

"I think it's a leaf, let me..."

The sudden grunt of Dario satisfied her cravings. His eyes were wide as she drove her dagger in deeper. "Don't speak, shhh." She pretended to lay him down to sleep as he silently fell in her arms. The forest became quiet. "Dario?" Robbie and his men noted the abrupt silence. A sudden whoosh in the trees put them on high alert. Robbie and his men turned to look back where Dario had been tying up the elf, but there was nothing but a bloody friend and rope laying on the ground. Every single man scrambled to search for Maeve, but it appeared she was gone.

"Get back out 'ere, ya son of a- Oof!"

The rogue swung down from the tree above and knocked him off his feet, then sliced him across the neck. He spurted blood and she laughed merrily as another came after her. "Try thinking twice before coming after this wench, you sons of a bitches!" The men, fierce and thirsting for revenge, charged her with their weapons. All of them had a sword or a dagger of some sort. The other three were dead on account of her blessed actions. She dove out of the way just as one of the men swung his blade at her. He had a good arm on him. "You whore!"

"Actually, that was me in another life."

Robbie was growing tired of her silly games. He wouldn't be mocked by the girl who thought she was so high up on a damn ranking system. "You murderous traitor!" he scowled, swinging his sword at her. She dodged him again. He pulled his arm back again as she jogged backwards- something she became skilled at on rocky terrain- and the cool touch of metal hit the back of her neck. The blade. She knew if she stepped back any further, she'd become a roast elf on a spit for the king's evening meal. She let out a small scoff. Robbie walked to her and put his blade against the front of her neck. "Ah, so you're good at playing the game, it seems," she spoke heartily. "Good, good. You caught me... again." Robbie growled, "Any last words, elf?"

She searched for something to say, something to make the Gods heed her dying words, then let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank the Gods someone's here."
 
The small child took the round glove, curiosity donning her smooth, porcelain face. Erika smiled down at her daughter as she moved the latex glove up and down, side to side, the fingers flapping constantly. She was the only pride she had, the only reason she felt joy. Her smile wavered for a brief moment as another knock came at the door. Erika raised a brow as Dr. Paulson got up and opened the door. She stood up in confusion as a gurney suddenly entered the room.

Erika didn't say anything about it for the time being, but Amberly was certainly interested in the stuffed animal. Erika watched Dr. Paulson and the nurse exchange a few words and glanced over at Amberly. She was somewhat surprised when Dr. Paulson asked Amberly if she could help. This was certainly a new procedure of some sort, one she was unaware of. Amberly accepted, nodding her head as she walked up to the small patient. "What happened to the puppy?"

Erika crossed her arms over her chest, positive, yet bewildered about the experience. The nurse leaned over and filled her in. "Adam gets kids involved in other things while he gives them the more unpleasant treatments. Her charts said she needed two shots, sometimes when one person, or rather stuffed dog if you will, gets it they are less likely to fight it. And she'll be able to keep the dog afterwards." Erika's face brightened at the news. She nodded silently, accepting the tradition.

It was exciting to experience; Amberly helping a lovely spotted patient with their shots. The thought brought a genuine smile to her face. "Is the puppy sick?" Amberly questioned her mother, her voice heartbroken and desperate for the puppy to get better. Erika smiled behind her hand, observing her daughter and the way she interacted with the stuffed animal. It was saddening to see, but in a pleasant way. "Yes, he is. Poor thing. But you get to save him, Amberly. He'll feel better."

Erika beckoned Amberly to the exam table and propped her up on it so she could see her fellow patient better. "Ready, Amberly?" Her daughter nodded, then turned to her doctor. "What do I do?" Erika let Dr. Paulson finish the rest, though during the procedure, she could've sworn she felt her daughter's hand reaching out for her own, and she gave her little girl a reassuring squeeze. The shots were administered within a few minutes and the pain Amberly felt left just as quickly.

Erika smiled softly down at the brunette. "There. Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" she teased, ruffling her daughter's hair. "Mommy!" Amberly pouted, her hand patting down her hair. "It still hurt," she grumbled. "But the puppy feels better now, right?" Erika countered eagerly. "Yes!" The way Amberly's eyes sparkled hurt Erika deeply. She was young, strong, and independent when Erika couldn't be. There were times when Erika wished she could be like Amberly, careless and untroubled.

The clock on the wall turned its big hand to the nine. The nurse detached the IV from the stuffed dog's leg and handed it over, then left the room with the gurney. Erika stroked her daughter's head. "Well that was quite a surprise, but also fascinating," she praised Dr. Paulson. "I never got to save a stuffed animal when I was younger. When I was a child, they just went straight for the kill." Erika chuckled lightly at her own joke, feeling a little embarrassed, and glanced up at the doctor. "Thank you."

Her appreciation was kind of on a whim. She said it without thinking. The aura he gave off was more than she could bargain for. It was a content, passionate kind, different from her husband, who was barely sentimental anymore. She still felt some anxiety beating down on her, but it was mild in his presence, fluttering like a leaf from side to side. Erika smiled too much. She didn't realize she was doing it out of nervousness. "How did you develop something like that? Did it just come to mind?"
 
Last edited:
no-lightbox

Pharmacy - Nikita van Halen
​
The small grip on her dark grey shirt made Lorraine anxious. Louisa had been clinging to her ever since. She'd reminded her time and time again; they couldn't give up hope, they could survive. Lorraine couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult it was for Marceline and Louisa. They were small, their lives only just beginning, and now, they had to live everyday in fear. It worried her to the bone, but she knew that the last thing they all needed was for her to throw a pity party. She closed the exit door behind her, the small family temporarily safe from the Walking Dead. They had previously encountered a small hoard not far off from here, at the grand park farmers market.

The experience was less than fun. It'd been terrifying. Louisa had tripped over a tree branch and injured herself. To further convenience the group, Lorraine had scooped up the girls into her arms and darted out of that area. She'd tried not to fire the gun she carried unless in dire circumstances. If they could run away and not get bit or scratched, that was all that mattered. It'd been weeks since Lorraine had last seen her brother. When the outbreak occurred, she didn't know what to do. She didn't know if he was dead, if he'd been infected, or if he was fine, and not finding him since then was depressing to think about. She had to erase it all though, every emotion she felt.

"Don't worry, mon anges. We'll make it," she murmured, trying her hardest to stay strong for the girls. The store was deathly silent. It put Lorraine at unease. Every step she took with her children was certainly another step towards death. She squeezed their hands, her heart pounding in her ear as she quickly, but quietly made her way to the front of the pharmacy. One hand held a glock, the other- her daughters' hands. They did their best to keep step in step with their mother as she scurried towards the place where all the medical supplies were. "Stay beside me," she commanded her children, voice quiet, but firm. They obediently complied.

Lorraine searched the shelves, grabbing the first aid kit nearby. She kept checking on her children every few seconds to make sure they were still near, a habit she'd developed. She also grabbed different over-the-counter medications, including liquid gel Aleve and Dayquil cough syrup. Louisa got sick a little more often than Lorraine and Marceline, so she felt it was important. Lorraine grabbed a water bottle pack nearby and ripped it open, stuffing as many as she could into her backpack. Suddenly, a bell rang at the front of the store. Marceline let out a gasp and Lorraine put her fingers to her lips, her face stern as she gestured her girls to huddle close to her. She pulled back her gun slowly, the safety unlocking, and peeked out from behind her aisle against the wall. There was someone here and she didn't dare make a sound until they came into her line of sight. Marceline trembled and Lorraine gulped down her fear.

Whoever was out there, they sure weren't welcome on her turf.
 
Last edited:
no-lightbox

Pharmacy - Nikita, Mason, Riley -
​
Lorraine sank to ground level, silently moving among the aisles. There was a large shelf on her left side, broken down and battered, but still offered somewhat efficient cover. Many of the cans had been opened up previously and flies festered around corn, beans, chicken soup, anything open that they were attracted to. She gazed down at her children, put her fingers to her lips, and told them quietly to stay behind the shelf and not move until she said so. Lorraine's anxiety took over as she abruptly stepped out into the pathway down the store and yelled at the three figures standing up front six shelves away. She could see out of her peripheral vision, her children huddling close together.

It was a fairly decent distance, considering she was extremely suspicious of the fact that they might be infected. Her gun was pointed straight at the man with the PD vest on, but she turned it on the girl and boy for a brief moment as well, before turning back to the man with his police uniform. There was no telling whether they'd gotten bit or scratched. Either the muscular guy with the black hair didn't have any common sense, or all three of them were infected, but hadn't shown yet. Her hands began to sweat and she gripped the gun harder, glaring at the small group. "Who the hell are you people!?"

She took a few steps forward, the dust sweeping out from underneath her worn out tennis shoes. A small bit of rubble fell by, but Lorraine kept her gaze straight and grim. She wouldn't risk the death of her children, not when her half-brother being shot constantly haunted her mind. She could barely make out the people. The shadows in front of the store and the flickering lights near the three, one blonde, one brown-haired, and the other black, offered her no consolation as to whether her suspicions were correct. Lorraine couldn't tell whether they were sick or not, how the whole process went, but the girl standing next to the big guy with bushy eyebrows was first on her list. She seemed awfully fatigued and it only made Lorraine more alert and paranoid than she probably should've been. Lorraine didn't move from where she stood. She wiped her hand on her gray shirt and placed it back underneath the magazine end. She wasn't about to go down without a fight. "What are you people and why are you all here?!"
 
Last edited:
no-lightbox
The boy's condescending arrogance fueled a fire in the king, but he only responded with a smirk across his mouth. Matthias was playing hard to get. He was underestimating his power and deliberately accentuating that all elves were unintelligent and his father was the greater king. The poor boy was naive. That much had been clear when he failed to understand his question. Alysia glared at the back of Matthias' head as he spoke with her father as if he was not any more witty than he was. Her fingers gripped the sword at her side as she sought to hack his head clean from his shoulders; forget ever trying to negotiate when he wouldn't even give her father the proper respect he deserved.

Her cheeks blazed with anger and embarrassment, even more so when the damn prince cast her a glance over his shoulder and gave a smug smile. "You stupid boy!" she immediately piped up, her left hand reaching for her sword. Reeves gently placed a hand on her shoulder and gripped it. It was the only gesture keeping her from stabbing the brown-haired male. "Do you know how cowardly you appear, right now? Your brain is the size of a kaol," she hissed. Her father raised his hand to silence her and she ceased for the time being, impulse held back by the senior knight in the room. She saw her father give a chuckle. "While the prospect of marrying off my daughter is a lovely idea," he stated thinly, his patience beginning to wither away. "I'd hope she wouldn't be married off to a boy as ignorant as you are."

"Just throw him to the wolves."

The king let out a weary sigh. "Armandas killed my son and heir, now he will suffer for that," King Odotheus put simply, gesturing towards Reeves to retrieve the prisoner into his hands. "I think a cold night in the dungeon will suffice. Alysia, watch him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." Alysia gaped at her Father's decision. "What?!" Her voice rose in defiance. "You're going to make me watch some incompetent little brat?! I'm tired, why do I have to be the guard?!" The king smiled, clasping his hands behind his back, and glanced at his daughter. He didn't say anything, only gazed at her with his eyes, and she understood. The princess brought the prince back, she had the honor of dealing with him. Suddenly, Alysia wished she hadn't shared her plan with her father, much less thought of it in the first place. She nodded in compliance and gazed at Reeves. "Come now. I have some business to get down to and gag him. I'm tired of hearing his nonsense." The short, petite elf walked out of the room and Reeves followed, taking a cloth on the way out and tying it around Prince Matthias' mouth.

The walk to the south keep was a fairly long one, but not straining. "He's staying in the south tower," she was saying. The south keep had no proper windows, only a small rectangle on the side of the cobblestone walls with round silver bars that had rusted over the long years, but still stood strong. There was hay to sleep in and a wool blanket, but nothing else. The only ventilation that any prisoner ever received was from the small rectangle high on the wall, touching the base of the cone shape at top when a person would look up. It was a dark place, bleak, and offered no hope, except for the lighting of a single candle every night before dinner; stale bread and hard cheese. She approached the guards standing at the entrance. "Keys," she demanded. The male gave her the bronze colored key chain, complete with twenty unique keys, and stepped out of her way. It jingled as she unlocked the door to the spiral steps.

"Bring the prisoner."

She began to ascend the steps. Her hands ran lightly among the walls to keep herself from feeling dizzy. She'd climbed the spiral stairs in every tower time and time again, and somehow, the allusion of feeling dizzy came when she walked up them. Perhaps it was the strong magic that the court mages cast on them each month, to ensure the prisoners stay put before either being taken out for torture or simply being brought to death where they lay sick before being beheaded or hung by a rope. Alysia triumphed inside as they reached the top. Her nose wrinkled as a familiar smell reached her nostrils. Piss. The damn old hag missed a spot. No matter though, it's good to know that he may not be sleeping tonight.

Prince Matthias was strewn across the floor once more, into the hay. Alysia smiled to herself, walking over to the small table and sitting down. Her fingers drummed the old wood for a few moments before deciding what else needed to be done. There was no water in the pitcher before her. That would need to be changed. "Hm, Reeves, make sure Lady Braga comes in with a clean cloth and some warm water. Tea for the headache and herbs for the bump on his head. Undo the shackles on his hands." Alysia tossed the keys to Reeves and he quickly set to work undoing the shackles, then turned to leave the room.

"Is there anything else you need acquire, m'lady?"

"No, that is all."

"Then I will take my leave."

Alysia watched him leave, her eyes possessing some kind of longing. The moment the door closed, she turned to Matthias and scowled at him before standing up and forcefully taking the gag off his mouth and tossing it to the side. She was angry with him. Weren't men supposed to be well-disciplined and respectful of other races? Wasn't the damn crown prince supposed to be raised in a kind environment where he didn't question authority? His defiance said otherwise. "You have a lot of nerve acting the way you did. We could've given you better accommodations," she began sourly, glaring at the free boy. "What made you think that it was okay to act any different to my father? He's a king." She placed emphasis on the word "king" to try and get her point across. It was never okay to act all high and mighty to a person of power and this prince had crossed the line, leaving her to deal with this problem.
 
Last edited:
no-lightbox
A sigh of relief escaped her pale lips, but only for a brief moment. She could hear his painful groan. He was fatigued, dizzy, and losing blood fast. "You're bleeding!" she exclaimed, her eyebrows creasing with concern for the older male. The tides turned and splashed Hatsumi as she dashed to the edge of the river bank where he laid. The water fought against her, knocking her over and getting the top of her kimono soaking wet. She hoisted herself up onto the large slab of rock and hastened her steps. Fortunately, the pouch she held was mostly dry. The river hadn't completely drawn her under. "Look at you," she noted, placing the small medicinal pouch to the side. "Please, try to sit up."

She moved in closer to the stranger, more than was allowed for a woman of her status, and grabbed his right arm, resting it on the back of her neck as she tried to make him sit up against cave wall. "I'm sorry for this," she bowed quickly as part of her apology, then promptly began to remove his haori cord and the haori itself. Her hands loosened the ties of the hakama just enough for her to pull the kimono and juban kimono off his upper body. She stared at wide gash on his abdomen before shaking her head and scrambling to get some yarrow out of the silk pouch. She became frustrated when she realized there wouldn't be enough for the large gash. "Stay where you are. Don't move."

Hatsumi began to search for any sign of dry cloth. Her kimono was completely wet and his, despite being absorbed with sweat and the lower half with blood, it was well worth the risk. She bowed again, apologizing once more and told him she needed to use his haori. Hatsumi didn't bother with anything he said for the time being. She was focused only on saving him and it pained her to know that she didn't have everything to properly take care of his wound. She took off his haori and stripped it apart, making sure the strip of cloth she planned on using didn't have any dry blood on it, a deed that made her feel guilty in its self. She got one long strip wet and wrung it out as best she could to make it moist.

She threw the strip over her shoulder, then dumped the crushed up yarrow flower into her hand. She felt a little dizzy herself as she picked up her heavy kimono and ran to the edge, but his treatment was more important than her life. She took some of the fresh water into her hand, her palm serving as a failed bowl, then mixed it with the yarrow, and scurried back to the man. "This won't sting." Hatsumi began to place the yarrow on his wound. It would help the blood clot and bring relief to any burning he might've been feeling while the wound was festering. "There," she murmured, patting down the last of the yarrow onto his wound.

When she finished spreading out the poultice over the wound as best she could, she leaned forward and wrapped the large strip of cloth she had hanging on her shoulder from behind to tie towards the front. She began to relax a little, knowing that the medicinal herb would help him, but knowing that she was also doing something completely out of line, made her heart thump irregularly. She backed down the moment she was done, her hands resting in her lap. She didn't know exactly what his station was, but she knew he was high above her, another sign that she should go soon. "Please forgive me. I've gone outside of my respectful boundaries to save you. I shouldn't have touched you like that or removed your clothing without permission. It was wrong of me to be straightforward."

Hatsumi waited silently for any sort of verbal lash from the older male. She had done good, but she did not necessarily see it as such. It was bad enough that her husband was out looking for her and Riko was receiving back lashes from the head of the servant's quarters. Hatsumi feared she might receive some sort of beating as well, from this male and from her husband, once she found him. It was then that she immediately realized she'd never properly introduced herself under the panic of him dying. Her mouth opened to say something, but she kept it shut in the silence of the moment. This was awkward. She'd never seen this man before and yet, she'd felt compelled to try and save him. Her mind played tricks on her, making her doubt her ability to heal as a woman.
 
Last edited:


Emily gave everything to not let herself be devoured completely by her overt lust for the Captain. The longer it took to get to the rising point, the longer she experienced painful, yet pleasurable delay, and the more she wanted him. She obeyed when he tugged on her hair, the small gesture forcing her to gaze up as he captured her bottom lip with his teeth.

She glanced down at the quickening pace of Donovan's fingers, her chest heaving up and down as he skillfully undid the knot at top of her blouse and exposed the pale skin that rested between her breasts. Emily bit her lip, then a breathless laugh escaping her mouth.

A hand reached out to grasp black hair as he dipped below and kissed the spot where her necklace gently lay. She closed her eyes, a soft sigh, barely vocal, left her rose colored lips. The slow, rhythmic movements of his fingers against her body made her writhe in pleasure as he sought out her hips and drew her body closer to him.

Emily placed her left hand on Donovan's shoulder to keep her balance in check. Her free hand reached out to touch his, eager to guide it, but the sudden impact on the ship triggered an undesirable interruption. Her head was cleared; her body unsatisfied.

She felt his fingers grip her hip for a brief moment, then leave. The Red Coats were on their tail. She scrambled to tie her blouse back up and hand the Captain his undershirt that was once carelessly strewn on the wooden floorboard. There was no time for him to appear as formal as he'd been before.

Emily grabbed the spyglass off the desk and rushed to meet her Captain out front. She took hold of his hand and scurried up the steps to meet him on deck and place the spyglass in his hand, before leaving his side and beginning to help the others in defending the Blackheart.

Juan was throwing out orders to the powder monkeys and crew on deck. Everyone was rushing to get their rifles reloaded and pistols at full ammunition. Sammy cursed under his breath as another bullet flew past him, gunning down one of the men on the rope and putting a small, smoking bullet hole through the main mast. Those damn Red Coats. I just fixed that.

He heard the captain speak and immediately climbed down from the rope to face him. Sammy was unsure what to say for the moment. "Ya sounded a bit pre-occupied, Captain," he opted with a brief grin. "Apologies." No one could say being a captain was easy.

More often than not, Sammy was sure Marlowe spent most of his time as a captain at work, rather than a captain who needed a break at times. The man was extremely secretive, no one really knew if ever did anything behind closed doors, but Sammy supposed he got an imagined glimpse into what happened sometimes. "I won't tell anyone, but back to the problem at hand."

Sammy would save the rest of his teasing for later. "Red Coats, 'bout hundred feet out, cannons loaded, ship hasn't been hit yet."

"More powder, you fools! More powder!" One of the crew members, a young fella by the name of Tommy, cried out.

"They gainin' on us, came not long ago, reckon they're after the lil' lady."




Ysabel kept to herself when Jean's sudden outburst made the hair on her skin rise. There hadn't been anything funny about it. She was truly considering the idea of giving the Captain something to think about while she was on board. If the damn bastard didn't like it, then she supposed she'd have to dive overboard for being a sensible and practical human being.

The steel instruments that the Frenchman handled so casually put Ysabel on edge. She felt squeamish inside when Jean's statement alluded to her becoming some kind of nurse on board. The last thing she wanted to do on board was hack off men's limbs and get blood on her hands.

When he kicked up the floorboard next to her, she jumped back in surprise, but didn't say anything- only stared down at the calm waves beneath. For a moment, she wished she was back in the bath tub, washing away her worries as she drowned in the hot liquid. Ysabel nodded in acknowledgement, doing her best to stay calm and keep light of the situation at hand.

"You want me to become a nurse? On board? I know nothing. Why did you bother becoming a surgeon in such a filthy place? Your services would've been better utilized at a more refined place, such as a manor or King Louis' court."

A cannon sounded and the Blackheart suddenly gave way. Ysabel, caught by surprise at the sudden rocking of the ship, fell towards Jean.

"What in God's name?"

She could hear the frantic cries of people above and the constant movement of running feet up above. Suddenly, the door banged open. A man carrying another on his shoulder hurried in. Ysabel coiled at the obvious wound in his shoulder. "Shot in the shoulder and leg."

Ysabel immediately turned her attention to the limping man's left leg. A nice bloody wound festering fast as a spider could catch a fly. She gulped as the bearded man carrying him put the blonde haired male on the table. "There's gonna be more so get prepared."

"Well, what do I do now?"
 
Last edited:
[fieldbox= Zamira Gjata, #3366ff, solid, 7, book antiqua]

Name
Zamira Catalina Gjata née Marcano

Nicknames
Lol nope, unless you want to get killed

Age
441 (May 13, 1575)

Gender
Female

Species
Vampire

Height
5'7"

Weight
127 lbs

Sexuality
Bisexual

Aliases
Zamira Gjata (current legal name)
Catalina Marcano (birth name)
Various others

Personality
Zamira gives off the impression of being a rigid and somewhat reckless vampire. She's very frank, to the point of insensitivity, but this doesn't mean she's devoid of heart. Zamira is in fact, naturally motherly and encouraging to her peers. Her unwavering loyalty, arrogance, and willingness to help often leads to her sticking her nose in other people's business. She's a mysterious figure, noted to be untrustworthy, according to outsiders, but the same has yet to be said by the vampires. As a result, the clan, most often the generals, find her a bit difficult to deal with, but enjoy her charm and kindness all the same.

Likes
Children, Red Wine, Intimacy

Dislikes
Hip Hop Music, Overt Sexuality, Sappy Romance Films

Strengths
Active Listener, Piano player, Mezzo-Soprano Vocals

Weaknesses
Big Bodies of Water, Excessive Materialism, Unable to Cook

Kinks
Hair Pulling, Exhibitionism, Forced Nudity

Turn Ons
Intelligence, Adventurous, Cleanliness

Vampire Traits
Mind Compulsion, Immortality, Super Speed, Senses, Agility, Strength, & Durability, Dream Manipulation, Healing Factor, Emotional Control, Enhanced Emotions & Limited Telepathy

Vampire Cons
Witchcraft, Animal Blood, Broken Neck, Fire, Sunlight, Decapitation, Heart Extraction, Invitation, Werewolf Bite, Werewolf Blood, Wooden Objects & Hunger (Unless Controlled)

Family
Valentina Marcano (Younger Sister, Part of her Trio)
Maria Marcano (Mother, Deceased)
Anton Marcano (Father, Deceased)
Miguel Marcano (Younger Brother, Presumed Deceased)
Juan de Azcono (Ex-Husband, Deceased)
Fernando de Azcono (Son, Deceased)
Roman Gjata (Ex-Husband, Presumed Deceased)
Besmir Gjata (Adoptive Son, Deceased)

Friends
Alessandro Romani (Best Friend, Part of her Trio)
Verona Caterwall (Platonic Soulmate & Playmate)

Enemies
Ariel Vyne (Enemy)
Mali Martinez (Enemy)
Kenni Porter (Enemy)

Lovers
Various ones

Other
Julius Church (Leader, Respects)

Brief History

Zamira was born the eldest to the Marcano earl and countess in Madrid, Spain under King Philip II. Her hair was silky and black as night, skin kissed by the sun. Her birth name was Catalina Marcano. She had three siblings, one sister named Valentina, and a younger brother, five years apart from her, named Miguel Marcano. Zamira was given a private education by a young man named Nicolás Sarria. He taught the siblings literature, geography, and the arts. Magdalena de Cardenas, the nanny, taught the girls how to be lady-like. Zamira learned proper etiquette and mannerisms, sewing, embroidery, as well as the piano and language of the fan.

Zamira wedded when she was eighteen years old and had a son when she was nineteen. Her husband built her a manor and there she would stay while he was away on political duties. When Zamira was twenty six years, she lost her son to scarlet fever and five months later, her husband, Juan, to the massacre of her family and the abduction of her younger sister. Her younger brother, Miguel was nowhere to be found, so it was presumed that he'd passed away as well. Zamira was on the verge of dying as the flames licked her skin and the house around her. Everyone was screaming, but only she could see the angel that loomed over her terrifying state.

She became a vampire that night, the flames vivid and crisp, each lick crackling like a whip. Zamira felt the ocean crashing down on her, swallowing her up and pulling her underneath. The pressure on her senses was unbearable, overwhelming, but the sweet smell of blood was pure pleasure and ecstasy. When she tasted fresh blood for the first time, she saw the world in a new light. Zamira exacted revenge on her family about a week later. She stormed the Ruiz household, rage and fear consuming her mind. Gunshots fired, ringing in her ear, fueling the disaster she orchestrated. Just as they had killed her family, she wreaked havoc and ended up with a dying sister in her arms.

Zamira begged her sire to turn her sister and upon request, he did so. Immortality became her holy grail. Unwanted fear still plagued Zamira, but the lust she bore for her sire became significant over time. Zamira tried to keep her complicated feelings to herself, not wanting the father-daughter relationship she harbored with him to go to waste. However, it came to the point where even she couldn't hide how she felt from Valentina. The sire rejected Zamira's love, feeling more responsibility towards her than anything else. She did her best to take it with a grain of salt, but only salt added to the fresh wound of realizing that she was truly lonely in the world. She could not keep up with what she'd become.

Young, but old, Zamira remarried later on to a human named Roman Gjata. Their marriage was civil and passionate; Zamira forgot about her feelings for her sire and Roman became her life. They moved to Scotland and settled down in the rural community. Many years came to pass, Zamira enjoying Roman's company, but also feeling empty inside. She was unable to have children and continued to struggle with coming to terms as a vampire. Roman came home with a little boy named Besmir one day. The family reunion strengthened the household for the time being, but Zamira's relationship with Roman soon fell apart after her sire came back to haunt her and she gave into sin.

Zamira left the countryside and went to Rome, Italy where she reunited with her sister once more and met a new addition; a sword fighter who previously fought in illegal fighting rings. Alessandro was more than Zamira could handle. He was a nuisance and she found herself disgusted with the decision her sister made to turn an innocent human. Distance became a forlorn puzzle piece in her relationship with Valentina. Zamira found herself confronting her sister one night and what was initially a civil conversation, turned into a heated argument that dated back to when her sire had turned Valentina into a vampire. She felt extremely hurt by her sister's words, spitting anger adding fuel to the fire.

The conflict soon resolved, but Zamira still felt a grudge, one that she would push to the back of her mind. The trio moved to Baton Rouge, Louisiana after a while and settled down in a small bungalow. Zamira made an effort to stay away from Alessandro, announcing he was her sister's slave and she had nothing to do with him. His presence made Zamira sick because of striking similarities he had to her brother. Prejudice was large during the 1800s; Zamira had no interest in being a part of it. She left her sister's side once more and went up North, where things were more peaceful. Present day, things have settled down. Zamira moved back down to Baton Rouge, Louisiana and the trio found a penthouse to live in.

Extra(s):
Zamira's F-List
Zamira's Playlist
Caimira's Insp
Caimira's Playlist
Bloodlines Playlist

[/fieldbox]
 
Last edited:
lurks
 
Physical Description:
JXNi8Dgx.jpg


Name: Wang Li Shou

Age: 30

Occupation: Mercenary

Species: Human

Personality: Li Shou generally comes off as a calm-spirited, yet intimidating woman to those who come face to face with her everyday. She has a high pain and stress tolerance, so anger is a last resort emotion in her book. Her conscientiousness employs her to do whatever she can diplomacy-wise before initiating combat mode. Li Shou is a fearless person, but her fierce independence can also lead her to come off as being a bit rigid sometimes and feeling oppressed by the system structure around her.

History:
Li Shou was born and raised on Coruscant. Her father was a general for the Grand Army of the Republic and her mother was a combat nurse who worked for the Grand Republic Medical Facility. She grew up in a authoritative household where her parents had high expectations for her. When she was 18, she enlisted in the Republic Military Academy to become part of the army. She learned — something she carried with her throughout the years. Li Shou served in the military for three years. She moved on afterwards, enamored with the research taking place at the Republic Science and Technical Center.

Li Shou was passionate about her work as a lab technician. Unfortunately, her career didn't last long. One day, as she was measuring vials to be sent down to the labs for testing, an electrical current surged through and set the building on fire. She was one of the few survivors.

Her left arm was burnt extremely bad, the impact leaving permanent scars for years to come and the blunt impact to her head against a metal pole beam left her hospitalized for two weeks. Li Shou recovered significantly, but the feat she'd witnessed changed how she saw herself. Li Shou signed up for a private Mercenary corps and began doing whatever she could to get the feel of adrenaline pumping through her body. When the going got tough, she turned to alcohol to help numb the pain. A couple years later, the company Li Shou worked for was placed under The Consortium's power. That was the chance to prove herself.

Equipment:
Blaster Pistol [2/2]
Long Range Communicator [1/1]

Skill/Abilities:
Various Martial Arts - Varying ability. She has demonstrated competent skill in martial arts preferred by monks, and other styles that are based around grappling and tossing, as well as striking.

Linguistics - Skilled ability. Li Shou has not moved around a lot throughout her life time, therefore does not posssess many languages, but can speak two fluently: Galactic Basic and Mando'a.

Marksmanship - Mastered ability. A keen eye, swift judgement, and many years in military service and mercenary corps has led Li Shou to be quite the expert at shooting with splendid accuracy.

Small Ship Piloting - Competent ability. Li Shou knows her way around a ship when it comes to piloting, due to training in the Republic, but still prefers someone else do the job, just in case things go haywire.
 
Last edited:
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Abhaya+Libre|Trirong" rel="stylesheet">
<style>
.enchantress {
background-color: #000000;
width: 380px;
height: 400px;
font-family: calibri, sans-serif;
font-size: 13px;
color: #fff;
text-align: left;
text-transform: lowercase;
letter-spacing: 1px;
padding: 14px;
-webkit-border-radius: 8px;
-moz-border-radius: 8px;
img {max-width: 300px;
};
.enchantressimg {
position:center;
max-width:300px;
max-height:300px;
background-image: http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/24000000/Butterfly-yorkshire_rose-24087887-1024-768.jpg;
};
.deadshot {
background-color: #007f00;
width: 380px;
height: 160px;
font-family: 'Abhaya Libre', serif;
font-size: 15px;
color: #fff;
text-align: center;
text-transform: uppercase;
padding: 15px;
-webkit-border-radius: 8px;
-moz-border-radius: 8px;
};
</style>
<div class="deadshot">Title here</div>
<div class="enchantress">
<div class="enchantressimg">
</div>
</div>
</div>
 
[fieldbox= Zamira Gjata, #3366ff, solid, 7, book antiqua]

Name
Zamira Catalina Gjata née Marcano

Nicknames
Lol nope, unless you want to get killed

Age
441

Gender
Female

Species
Vampire

Height
5'7"

Weight
127 lbs

Sexuality
Bisexual

Aliases
Zamira Gjata (current legal name)
Catalina Marcano (birth name)
Various others

Personality
Zamira gives off the impression of being a rigid and somewhat reckless vampire. She's very frank, to the point of insensitivity, but this doesn't mean she's devoid of heart. Zamira is in fact, naturally motherly and encouraging to her peers. Her unwavering loyalty, arrogance, and willingness to help often leads to her sticking her nose in other people's business. She's a mysterious figure, noted to be untrustworthy, according to outsiders, but the same has yet to be said by the vampires. As a result, the clan, most often the generals, find her a bit difficult to deal with, but enjoy her charm and kindness all the same.

Likes
Children, Red Wine, Intimacy

Dislikes
Hip Hop Music, Overt Sexuality, Sappy Romance Films

Strengths
Active Listener, Piano player, Mezzo-Soprano Vocals

Weaknesses
Big Bodies of Water, Excessive Materialism, Unable to Cook

Kinks
Hair Pulling, Exhibitionism, Forced Nudity

Turn Ons
Intelligence, Adventurous, Cleanliness

Vampire Traits
Mind Compulsion, Immortality, Super Speed, Senses, Agility, Strength, & Durability, Dream Manipulation, Healing Factor, Emotional Control, Enhanced Emotions & Limited Telepathy

Vampire Cons
Witchcraft, Animal Blood, Broken Neck, Fire, Sunlight, Decapitation, Heart Extraction, Invitation, Werewolf Bite, Werewolf Blood, Wooden Objects & Hunger (Unless Controlled)

Family
Valentina Marcano (Younger Sister, Part of her Trio)
Sanura Ligero (11th Great Grand Niece, Unknown Relations)
Maria Marcano (Mother, Deceased)
Anton Marcano (Father, Deceased)
Miguel Marcano (Younger Brother, Presumed Deceased)
Juan de Azcono (Ex-Husband, Deceased)
Fernando de Azcono (Son, Deceased)
Roman Gjata (Ex-Husband, Presumed Deceased)
Besmir Gjata (Adoptive Son, Deceased)

Friends
Alessandro Romani (Best Friend, Part of her Trio)
Verona Caterwall (Platonic Soulmate & Playmate)

Enemies
Ariel Vyne (Enemy)
Mali Martinez (Enemy)

Lovers
Caito (Love Interest)
Various ones

Other
??? Church (Leader, Respects)

Brief History

Zamira was born the eldest to the Marcano earl and countess in Madrid, Spain under King Philip II. Her hair was silky and black as night, skin kissed by the sun. Her birth name was Catalina Marcano. She had three siblings, one sister named Valentina, and a younger brother, five years apart from her, named Miguel Marcano. Zamira was given a private education by a young man named Nicolás Sarria. He taught the siblings literature, geography, and the arts. Magdalena de Cardenas, the nanny, taught the girls how to be lady-like. Zamira learned proper etiquette and mannerisms, sewing, embroidery, as well as the piano and language of the fan.

Zamira wedded when she was eighteen years old and had a son when she was nineteen. Her husband built her a manor and there she would stay while he was away on political duties. When Zamira was twenty six years, she lost her son to scarlet fever and five months later, her husband, Juan, to the massacre of her family and the abduction of her younger sister. Her younger brother, Miguel was nowhere to be found, so it was presumed that he'd passed away as well. Zamira was on the verge of dying as the flames licked her skin and the house around her. Everyone was screaming, but only she could see the angel that loomed over her terrifying state.

She became a vampire that night, the flames vivid and crisp, each lick crackling like a whip. Zamira felt the ocean crashing down on her, swallowing her up and pulling her underneath. The pressure on her senses was unbearable, overwhelming, but the sweet smell of blood was pure pleasure and ecstasy. When she tasted fresh blood for the first time, she saw the world in a new light. Zamira exacted revenge on her family about a week later. She stormed the Ruiz household, rage and fear consuming her mind. Gunshots fired, ringing in her ear, fueling the disaster she orchestrated. Just as they had killed her family, she wreaked havoc and ended up with a dying sister in her arms.

Zamira begged her sire to turn her sister and upon request, he did so. Immortality became her holy grail. Unwanted fear still plagued Zamira, but the lust she bore for her sire became significant over time. Zamira tried to keep her complicated feelings to herself, not wanting the father-daughter relationship she harbored with him to go to waste. However, it came to the point where even she couldn't hide how she felt from Valentina. The sire rejected Zamira's love, feeling more responsibility towards her than anything else. She did her best to take it with a grain of salt, but only salt added to the fresh wound of realizing that she was truly lonely in the world. She could not keep up with what she'd become.

Young, but old, Zamira remarried later on to a human named Roman Gjata. Their marriage was civil and passionate; Zamira forgot about her feelings for her sire and Roman became her life. They moved to Scotland and settled down in the rural community. Many years came to pass, Zamira enjoying Roman's company, but also feeling empty inside. She was unable to have children and continued to struggle with coming to terms as a vampire. Roman came home with a little boy named Besmir one day. The family reunion strengthened the household for the time being, but Zamira's relationship with Roman soon fell apart after her sire came back to haunt her and she gave into sin.

Zamira left the countryside and went to Rome, Italy where she reunited with her sister once more and met a new addition; a sword fighter who previously fought in illegal fighting rings. Alessandro was more than Zamira could handle. He was a nuisance and she found herself disgusted with the decision her sister made to turn an innocent human. Distance became a forlorn puzzle piece in her relationship with Valentina. Zamira found herself confronting her sister one night and what was initially a civil conversation, turned into a heated argument that dated back to when her sire had turned Valentina into a vampire. She felt extremely hurt by her sister's words, spitting anger adding fuel to the fire.

The conflict soon resolved, but Zamira still felt a grudge, one that she would push to the back of her mind. The trio moved to Baton Rouge, Louisiana after a while and settled down in a small bungalow. Zamira made an effort to stay away from Alessandro, announcing he was her sister's slave and she had nothing to do with him. His presence made Zamira sick because of striking similarities he had to her brother. Prejudice was large during the 1800s; Zamira had no interest in being a part of it. She left her sister's side once more and went up North, where things were more peaceful. Present day, things have settled down. Zamira moved back down to Baton Rouge, Louisiana and the trio found a penthouse to live in.

Extra(s):
• Roman Gjata is still available to be created. The only requirements are that he's a vampire and he's an Albanian model.

Zamira's F-List
Zamira's Playlist
Caimira's Insp
Caimira's Playlist

[/fieldbox]
 
Last edited:
Name: Bryseis

Race: Tiefling

Class: Warlock

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Religion: Redemptos

Skills: Arcana, Acrobatics, Deception

Weaknesses: Prejudice, Tendency towards Chaos

Appearance: Bryseis still appears to be human, but her infernal heritage has posed her to be a completely different individual in the flesh. Her skin is a mediocre reddish-brown, filled with various scars from cuts to bruises that never healed, due to her harsh childhood. Bryseis' hair is straight and long, silky and dark brown, almost pitch black. It cascades down to the middle of her back. Her horns curl forward once like a ram and they have a reddish tint to them. The gold of her eyes have no visible sclera and her tail, the same color as her skin, is five feet long. As a warlock, she wears light armor of various purples and blacks.

Personality: The first thing one may notice about her is that she carries an aura of pride, but this only ties into the large misconception people have about her, simply because of her infernal heritage. She's paranoid and has no friends because of her consistent mistrust of others. However, she's also quite the charmer and knows her way around others. She's manipulative, sly, and has no issue dealing death when someone gets in her way or damages her ego. This kind of morality leads many to believe she's truly an evil being, though this is simply because she's conflicted and strongly believes that she can't turn away from what people have labeled her to be in flesh and blood.
 
Last edited:

Name: Tara Kelly

Nickname(s): Grandma Kelly Not Applicable

Alias(es): Not Applicable

Age: 31

Date of Birth: August 31, 1985

Gender: Female

Affiliation: Crescent Lunar Pack

Occupation: Physician specializing in Family Medicine, Massage Therapist

Race: Werewolf

Position: Not Applicable

Height: 5' 6"

Weight: 115 lbs

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Piercings: Both Earlobes

Tattoos: The word "Dreamer" on her left ribs, Wish flower on the back of her left shoulder, Flower on her right foot

Hair Color: Blonde

Eye Color: Blue

Personality: Tara, at first glance, is a calm, sweet, and positive woman. She appears relaxed and collected, though stress is prone to challenge her self-esteem and drive to get things done. Tara's a firm believer of needing to stay on top of everything and has her trusty eidetic memory to help her stay organized and plan thoroughly. Tara's worst feat is that she can be a bit strict and forceful at times, if she's stressed out to the very bone. If Tara doesn't plan something out, such as a daily routine or what everyone is having for dinner on Tuesday, any sort of spontaneity stresses her out even more. She needs to have a plan or she freaks out because she's all about getting things done. She can also be a bit stubborn and blunt at times, but by no means does she try to be insensitive or make someone feel bad. Tara's also rather encouraging and empathetic when it comes to matters of the heart, so if you ever need someone to listen or advice, she's available.

Likes: Citrus Fruit, Convertibles, Beaches

Dislikes: Rap Music, Too Much Cologne, Dirty Homes

Kinks: Vanilla, Touching, Aftercare

Turn Ons: Intelligence, Leadership, Tall Men

Werewolf Traits: Super Speed, Senses, Agility, Strength & Durability. Werewolf Bite, Healing Factor (Slightly slower than a Vampire) & Lycanthrope Enhancement.

Werewolf Cons: Witchcraft, Broken Neck, Mortality, Fire, Decapitation, Heart Extraction, Silver Objects & Forced Transformation (Once a Month).

Talents: Extremely Flexible, Badminton, Staying Organized

Strengths: Resourcefulness, High Stress Tolerance, Diplomacy

Weaknesses: Not Spontaneous, Public Speaking, Forceful

History:

Tara Kelly was born in a werewolf family of six in Dublin, Ireland. She had four siblings, Patrick, Katie, Amy, and Desmond. When she was six years old, Tara migrated with her parents and siblings to the United States in order to be closer to their relatives in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She became fond of the various festivals, including Mardi Gras Parade and The State Fair in Louisiana. Tara enjoyed swimming, gymnastics, and playing soccer in the backyard with her siblings.

While she was in high school, she took a certified nursing assistant class and many advanced placement classes in order to prepare better for her career in health management. At seventeen years old, she began volunteering at a nursing home on weekends and every other weekday. This factored into her love for helping other people. She received a two year scholarship for Louisiana University when she graduated from high school at the top of her class. Tara utilized her scholarship to get her Associate of Science in Nursing and become an RN.

Tara left college to go into the military at 19 years old. She became a lieutenant and relocated to Beale AFB as a registered nurse while simultaneously going to school to finish up her bachelor's degree and go into medical school. During her time in the Air Force, she met a man who was training to be an engineer. They became great friends and eventually began dating, which lead to marriage three years later. When she was 27 years old, she became pregnant and took maternity leave after she conceived.

When Tara went back into the military, her parents and siblings helped her out with Aengus, the newest addition to their family. After a few years, she managed to finish up her residency and obtain licensure. However, the family Tara was hoping to have ended after she became pregnant again with Sinéad. Husband and wife filed for divorce under peaceful, yet agonizing, circumstances. Tara was honorably discharged from the military and given sole custody of their children.

After the death of her best friend, Saana, Tara met up with Dayton at her funeral and forgave him for what he'd done. She moved back to Baton Rouge with Dayton and began to temporarily live with him, while she looked for a house for her and her two children. She currently works as a physician and a private masseuse for people around her area. Tara doesn't often visit her leader, though when she does, it's usually because he's made an appointment for a massage. She's generally happy about where she is now, but not exactly satisfied.

Relationships

Family:
Sinéad Kelly (24 months, Daughter, Alive)
Aengus Kelly (4, Son, Alive)
Lauren Kelly (Mother, Alive)
Brian Kelly (Father, Alive)
Darcy Kelly (Uncle, Alive)
Emma Kelly (Aunt, Alive)
Shannon Kelly (Grandma, Deceased)
Murtagh Kelly (Grandpa, Deceased)
Desmond Kelly (Older Brother, Alive)
Patrick Kelly (Younger Brother, Alive)
Katie Kelly (Older Sister, Alive)
Amy Kelly (Older Sister, Alive)
First Last (Ex-Husband, Alive)

Current Status: Single

Friends:
Dayton Marshal (Best Friend, Roommate)
Saana (Old Friend, Deceased)

Enemies:
Valentina Marcano

Lovers:
Crushing on Trojan probs

Other:
Trojan Pride (Leader, Respects)
 
Last edited:
Erika admired Dr. Paulson's charm. It made her a little jealous, maybe envious even, but those thoughts were for another time. She listened intently to his explanation. It was clear he'd been through some rigorous training; His wisdom proved that much. She was beginning to feel a little emotional thinking about it. Instead, she smiled and brushed her thoughts past her. Rumination at this hour wouldn't help. She laughed a little to help ease her inner pain and allowed the doctor to further examine her daughter.

Her daughter had been complaining about her head hurting the last few days. She was hot yesterday and feeling tired. Amberly nodded and Erika tried not to take it too personally. She reminded herself that she'd done everything she could to get rid of her fever and sore throat. This time of the year didn't want it her way, it seemed. She breathed slowly, in and out a few times, and that seemed to slow down her heart rate.

"Yes," Erika responded calmly, forcing herself to make eye contact. "She hasn't been feeling too well the last couple days. She's complained about her head hurting and it being hard to swallow. She was feverish yesterday and her temperature went down today, which is good. She also threw up once yesterday. I've been giving her a lot of water to drink and some honey and lemon to help soothe her throat." Erika didn't know what was worse, the fact that she was probably overthinking the negative aspects of the situation or simply the fact that her daughter had been sick for the past few days even after she felt like she tried everything to get rid of it. "I'm not sure what's going on at this point, but I suppose since winter is coming up soon, that might be why she's been feeling out of it?"
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back