The Horrors of Isolrah ~ Open and Accepting ~

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Nightstealer, Nov 12, 2013.

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    A perfect experiment, with perfect results, that was what he needed. No more half animated zombies, no more pathetic half-life rodents. No, He needed the perfect experiment to go down in the history books. His discovery in immortality was nothing, because he'd never been able to recreate whatever it was that prolonged his own life. He needed something BIGGER, something far GREATER than mere immortality. Bringing the dead back to life, it was a stereotypical experiment. He knew, because they'd already learnt how to do that. After all, defibrillation was essentially that very thing. It was a vain and stupid experiment. They wondered why Frankenstein's monster had been mentally challenged, he'd been dead for far too long, the brain was damaged, neurological pathways destroyed. No, what he wanted to do had to be far greater than that. He needed to make history. But how?

    Professor Ezekiel Von Ludwigsten sorted through his papers in search of an answer to his dilemma. He scratched his head, frowning. Something was missing. Then he remembered, tossing his papers frantically off the desk in search of the jar. 'Oh dear, where did I put that? Stupid stupid organ, always running off.' He muttered to himself, searching under the desk now. A knock on his door made him bump his head as he looked up. Rubbing his cranium, the professor continued his search for the missing jar. 'Enter.' He called, and the large metal door opened with a groan of hinges. A young woman with dark hair and pale skin stood in the doorway. 'Ah, Gwynith, how can I help you?' He asked, without looking over at her.

    The woman frowned a little. 'Professor Ludwigsten, are you quite alright?' She asked, an Irish accent playing on her tongue. The professor nodded. 'Yes, yes, I've just lost my brain again. It was right here, and now it's vanished. Could you be a dear and take a look among the preserved body parts?' He gestured to a large glass covered cabinet filled with jars containing various organs and body parts all floating in a viscous blue liquid. Gwynith started searching through the jars, turning them to face her so that she could read the labels, grimacing a little at some of the contents. 'I don't see it, professor.' She said, a little apologetically. Ludwigsten frowned, standing up straight and scratching his head. 'Oh where on earth could it have got to? You don't suppose those little devil children have been playing in here again do you?' He sighed, shaking his head a little, hands on hips now as he scanned the room. Gwynith smiled ever so slightly. 'I don't believe so Professor. I haven't seen them in this area of the house for days.' The frown deepened, causing a well-worn crease between the scientist's brows. 'Then where on Earth could it be?' Or off earth, though Gwynith with a soft sigh. Aloud she said, 'I'll see if any of the others have seen it, professor.' The scientist looked at her in surprise, then smiled. 'Thank you Gwynith, I much appreciate it.' The banshee smiled politely and walked out of the laboratory, wondering where the best place to start looking for the professor's brain would be.

    The banshee made no noise as she glided along the corridor, her footsteps light, barely touching the floor. The professor's brain disappearing was a common occurrence among the Isolrah household. It was highly likely that one of the skeletons had found it and forgotten to give it back to him again. Still, there was no harm in looking, so she headed for the library to begin her search.

    The library was a large room, almost as large as the grand hall, with bookshelves towering high above the floor, reaching up to three levels in some places. Books were stacked on chairs, under tables, propping up wobbly shelves, each jumbled as much as the next. Gwynith loved the library, the way it was all compressed yet in such a way that its grandeur was impossible to escape. There were rooms among the shelves, entire areas that you couldn't see unless you really looked. It was a whole world in its own. And that was part of the reason why is was her favourite place to be.

    Upon entering the library, the young banshee began to scan her surroundings. 'Now where should I start?' She wondered aloud.

    (the kind of image I have for the library ~ )
  2. Argona Fleischer was attending to her horse, her beautiful, black steed that always served well throughout the long years of her life. It was a beautiful horse, one that has been complimented many times by the other residents of Isolrah, especially because of its gutted state, the beautiful ribs that stood out of its stomach like a sore thumb if there ever was one. Its skin, full of small bruises and cuts and scars was also much appreciated, but alas, right now those perfect wounds could not shine through as they were covered in dirt. After her recent visit to the human world, her horse really did deserve some extra attention from a clean sponge, some water and some gentle hands. It did, after all, spit in the face of the human who was about to attack her from behind, giving her enough time to use her axythe.

    Said weapon was resting against the side of the table, bloodied and with a slightly depressed blade because one of her strikes did not manage to hit her enemy quite as she liked. But at least for now, her job was done, so Argona was currently occupied with the preparations to clean her horse. She quickly assembled the proper tools, then she started her work slowly, methodically. The repetative motions took her mind off her current situation, not to mention her past, so she allowed herself to be lost in them. Come to think of it, she probably had a better emotional connection with her horse than she did with most people whom she met in her life, which would have been tragic had she known anything else. But for her, this was the world, or at least until she found Isolrah... Or at least she thought so.

    Isolrah was a safe haven for people like her, but at the same time, she could not find it in herself to really connect to them. They were usually talking about things she had no idea about or she just did not feel like interrupting a conversation, so she was alone most of the time. But that was her way of life back at home too, so she was not sad.

    Finishing that line of thought, Argona stood up happily and inspected her work... Then she had to get her head straight on her neck again. While it stayed in place most of the time, sometimes when she made sudden moves, it would become unbalanced. Lately, that had been happening a lot, so she figured that the gift of the Grim Reaper that kept her as a Dullahan had less power over her for some reason. Which meant that she had to visit the professor of Isolrah, the lovely mad scientist who was repsonsible for the well-being of the otherworldy. Though the thought made her uncomfortable, she did not wish to disturb Death, for they were always busy and unless one had an offering for them, they tended to get into a rather fool mood.

    With that in mind, Argona packed up the cleaning tools, then she headed for the room of Professor Ezekiel Von Ludwigsten.
  3. "The gentle vampire looked into her honey colored eyes, grabbing her by the waist, their lips a mere inch apart. His mouth traveled all the way down to her neck, his fangs caressing the tender skin. He inhaled deeply, and when he was about to give her the kiss of death, he regained control over himself, and let go of the girl. -No! My sweetheart... I can't drag you to the afterlife with me... You don't deserve the eternal pain of the never-dying ones... Go away! Escape from me! Can't you see I'm dangerous?! The girl looked confused at the handsome vampire, her eyes filled with tears."

    Roderich let out a loud 'WHAT THE HELL???'. The last time he visited the human world, people had been going on an on about this famous books and movies saga, the 'Twilight Under the Sky' saga. As a well known art appreciator, and we're talking about art in all its forms here, of course he had to get is hands on a copy of the first book, and see for himself what was all the fuss about.

    He had spent the last hour and a half alone in the library, reading his eyes out. What he had expected to be a masterpiece in the vampire literature had turned out to be a giant piece of bullsh--... It was bad.

    Frustrated, he closed the book and left it on a nearby table. With his fingers he brushed back his long, black hair. His face was contorted in an exasperated expression. He looked around, balancing out his options. He could stay there reading a higher quality prose to cure his mind from the sickness he was feeling, or he could go back to his place and paint until the oils took away the stupidity stuck in his brain.

    He was still trying to decide when he saw a familiar face enter the library. "Good night Gwynith, have I ever told you you're a joy to my eyes?" He was always courteous with everybody, and had quite the sweet tongue. "What brings you here tonight?"