Plot Challenge: Lonely Traveler

[Kitti]

To Participate: THINK FAST. Don't waste any time. The first idea(s) that comes to mind, write it down and post it!
NOTE: You can reply to this post with your own challenge additions at any time! If you decide to borrow someone's concept for a roleplay, make sure you give credit. Learn more about the Roleplay Challenges HERE.

Challenge Phrase: Lonely Traveler
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[Menorain]

Van'tassle is an old hamlet found at the mouth of the Great Forest. You are a lonely traveller, searching for refuge from the midnight storm. You progress up the muddy dirt track. You see a light. 'An inn', you think to yourself. You're caught off guard by an image of yourself sitting up with a hot meal beside the burning embers; a sigh of release escapes you. Then, from nowhere and everywhere, an imposing voice echoes, "Hold your ground, traveller". "Cut!", booms the director. "What is this shit? Take a cigarette break". Another crummy acting performance from you, the famous actor who is now reduced to playing lonely travellers after controversy has hampered your formerly promising career. This is your last chance to prove to Hollywood that you're more than just the washed up teen star. God speed.

 

[Villamvihar]

The universe died. There was no question about it: every planet and every system of every galaxy and every cluster was erased in a single blow, whole civilizations were erased from the fabric of reality just so the creators could destroy their creation, just so that the creators could say that they saved free will. But no matter how much efforts the creators put into destroying the being that they made with their own hands, the creation has somehow survived the purge that managed to destroy the physical reality. Maybe it was because the creation was not entirely physical in nature, so it found a grip on the void of the space, but even if he had manage to survive the end of the universe, he would have to wait until the stars were reformed again, until the planets were whole again until he could interact with reality once again.

However, for the creation, that did not matter, for it was immortal and fearless. It already had the knowledge of its creators, the knowledge that they feared it would take from them, so now it knew everything he needed to do whatever he wanted in a new universe, amongst new species that could be easily conquered, then driven into slavery. It would be so easy to simply take over the minds of sapient species, then use them to build an army that could take over the universe that was so carelessly destroyed by the creation's creators. It would be so easy to use what the creation had learned to accelerate the formation of the universe. It would be so easy to use technology of the creation's creator to create a new reality, in which the creation was the king. Indeed... it would be too easy to do so.

It would take a mere few thousand years to conquer every corner of the universe for the creation, and from the knowledge it acquired, it knows that to rule over helpless slaves is foolishness, for the oppressed always rebel, or if they do not, absolute power would lead to absolute insanity, so the creation decides not to mindlessly conquer reality. But then, what should it do for the countless aeons that are left of its life? What should it make of its power? The creation did not know the answer to those questions, so it decided to roam across the universe until it reforms to solid planets again. Maybe there, it could find the answer as to why it was born.

 

[Searin]

I'm by my self here.
Yes, alone.
Just me.
I know crazy right?
My friends? All gone.
My family? They're gone too.
I don't know how it happened, don't ask me.
Though I'm sure you'd ask someone else if there was anyone left.
But no, I don't have the answers you're looking for.
I'm sorry.
Nah, I've come to terms with it.
I'll admit it, I'm lonely, yeah.
I guess talking to a dog would let you know those sorts of things, huh?
Yeah, I thought so.
If there were anyone around here, they'd probably think I was crazy.
But I'm not.
Just bored.
And lonely.
You probably don't care, you are a dog after all.
Well, see ya, Dog.
I've got to be on my way.
Where am I going? I have have no idea.
Hey, its better than saying 'Wherever the wind takes me' right?
..... You can come if you'd like.
I think we could both use the company.

 

[Lenuvia]

A man wanders the streets every night but in search of what you may think? He is but a lonely traveler in need of... souls. He devours them, taste them, feel them. Each night he finds a prey whether it is an animal or a mere human. That is the life of a demon, lonely and tiresome. He is at the lowest of the demon pyramid, he is nothing but garbage and unwanted dirt. One soul per day will do, until he reaches a million, then his life will begin. The wicked deeds he shall do for his master Lucifer, but not now, now it's time to collect souls. One down, and nine hundred and ninety nine thousand with nine hundred and ninety nine more souls to go.

 

[Synthetic Seraph]

PREY. My eyes widened and my fight-or-flight revved up as I peered through the raindrops on my glasses. All by himself with no need to wait until all but the last remaining human went home, like when I staked out the fishing pier. And today's dismal drizzle banished other random witnesses. He was probably old judging from the stoop of his shoulders. It made the job easier.

Sometimes I approached a "donor" with an innocent question in order to get close, but this time the rain would make the distraction for me. I prepared my ether and rag, trying not to let it get too damp with rainwater in the seconds of countdown, and ran for it. As a female I could either wrap my arm around the front and shove it up under the nose, or pounce on the taller human's back and hang on by one bicep and give him a good whiff with the other. At least I learned to quit the Tarzan yells first.

Did old age affect the taste of the blood as it did in pulp vampire fiction? The winged toddlers riding along on my back hadn't spoken yet to give their opinion one way or the other, but one day they might. Each week they developed further away from the pure animals I'd discovered - a strange race of bats to be sure, with arms in addition to wings and legs - and more like furry young people. One day, would they look like us completely, and keep only their wings and blood needs?

"Thank you, old man," I murmured to his unconscious form, the newest member of my Catch And Release program. Fainting spells and blackouts blamed on alcohol raised far less of a citywide epidemic of wails than serial murders, and why would I need to do that anyway? I dragged him into privacy under the bushes to elude even the remote chance of witnesses, the bats cheeping happily. I used his own umbrella for my "kids" as they fastened onto his upper body for feeding. "If I kept letting these vamps drain me faster than I could build myself back up, we might all have died together, shrunken and withered in that estate."

(( If you have read this, please comment any way you want, Visitor Messages or otherwise! I'll take whatever you think of me, I just want to know.

Extra note: This scene relates to longterm OCs. The bats do indeed grow to "vampires" who are also technically anthros, keeping the wings, pointy ears, and fangs of bats. One grew up to be responsible and quest for others of his kind, the other is a marsh-mallow brained raver who feeds on the blood of kids on drugs. Yeah. >_< ))

 

[Count Lanier]

It was a dark and deary night, like the one not long ago where I sat at my desk nearly napping when there came that fateful rapping at my chamber door. You have heard my story from that night when I met the raven that could only screech, "Nevermore." Now is a different night on my daily walk down the road outside my abode. This is the road that I travel every night forever more. This is where I found my now lost Lenore and now all I see and hear is the rain crashing on the cold stone ground and the clacking of the raven's talons accompanied by its incessant, "Nevermore." I stop my walk, like I do every night at the same place by the bench, and turn to the bird that plaques me so, "Yes, I know, I know, you persistant bird. She is gone and so is my soul. Why do you stay? You have delivered your message of a love that is no longer existing, and yet you stay to remind me of that fact every waking moment and every wink of an eye. In my sleep I dream of your shrill kaw of, 'Nevermore.'" The demon of a craven just looks at me with the deads eyes, as if it was processing what I had told it. Yet still it tells me only one thing, "Nevermore." I continue the stroll down this lonely road and I the lonely traveler. The raven follows like every night, but on this night I could take it no more. When the bird screamed, "Nevermore," I snapped and turned on the bird with a pistol in my hand. "You have said your last phrase my feathered friend. I can take it no longer. Your message is clear, my Lenore and the love we shared is nevermore." And with that the triggered was pulled, the sound of a gun shot rang out, and featheres flew. All that was left was half a raven scattered about the stone walkway. I continued my walk smiling along the way only to slowly frown and cry. It was so quiet, so desolate now that the bird was gone. I had finally realized that the bird was my only connection to my lost Lenore and to the love we had. It was the only connection to reality and now that it was gone I was truly alone. I broke and I fell to the stones crying and laughing and shivering and screaming, "LENORE, LENORE, LENOR!"</SPAN>