Re: Chapter 001: The Enlightening

Logan Kilmartin Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:23 pm

-FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE-

The macchiato sailed towards Logan’s back, dripping a tail-like pattern of the scolding hot liquid from the mouthpiece of the lid. When it converged with the Hunter the plastic container bent and broke from the impact pouring a decent measure of its harmful contents on his right arm. A tortured growl along with some wincing heaves retorted to the attack. The skin on his forearm reddened without delay, and he brushed it lightly to cool the burning sensation.

Staring her down he visualized grabbing her head with one hand and slamming it into the nearby wall several times. She was a fragile, a twig; he could easily break if only there hadn’t been a moral conduct that suggested such acts were “wrong.” The violent thoughts eased the suffering he endured from her sad attempts to get even. It wasn’t worth it to even react. Margaux’s opinion of herself was higher than credit was due to her. A few random items were also hurled in his direction, although they had less of an impact than her initial weapon of choice. He stood like a statue, smoldering with rage. The concepts of what physical responses he was capable of inflicting spiraled into more graphic and disturbing scenarios. No matter how painful or fatal his retaliations could convey, there really weren’t any better consequences than the truth that her existence was trivial. Who ever intended to make use of her by calling her here, obviously had no idea what he or she was getting into. The watering eyes, and collecting tears were unable to pluck at the strings of his emotions.

Logan darted from the library to the kitchen and aimed straight for the sink. With his arm under cold water, the temperature adjusted giving some comfort. Maybe it was a defect in his personality that he felt zero remorse for his actions or words. He was a bastard, well theoretically an orphan, and so few sentiments even conveyed value. Even so, there wasn’t a chance in the world that he’d consider the problem rested in his corner. He could hear her stupid nasally words drifting from the den. ‘appy to see you…? Was she fucking joking? Clearly she made more of what they shared than he had. To put in perspective it was like tasting escargot in every sense of the metaphor. You do it because it’s different and exotic. A life experience, but no one really likes it. Aside from being a bedpost notch there was the chance that she could have become a decent friend, but when you walk out in the manner that she did, any probability of remaining civil leave with you.

With his coffee burn soothed momentarily he wet down a small hand towel and worked his way over to a basket of stationary supplies. There he found a roll of masking tape. Logan ripped the end with his teeth unfolding the shiny silvery ribbon before wrapping it around the towel and forearm. The tension and adhesive kept the makeshift bandage in place. It wasn’t the best first aid job, but you do what you have to given the circumstances.

Serik Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:24 pm

GETTING THE F*CK OUTTA HERE;
SERIK’S HAVEN, NEAR THE HOLLYWOOD SIGN. >>

After both an ambush from the horde and a visit from the impetuous Eldritch hunter, Serik was already packing when the two arcanists breached the entrance of his lair. It didn’t take time or effort when you had the ability to magically transfer solid objects between desired locations. The only drawback he currently faced, was the amount of transferring he had to undergo. It took some time and concentration to move a horde this size. There was also a lot of fondness he had to overcome in the process. Serik was comfortable in this haven, and in Los Angeles, there was an endless supply of valuables for him to collect. This specific cave had served him well a majority of the two years he’d gone into hiding.

Standing firmly planted in front of a pile of gold and relics he inhaled channeling the particles of the objects and separating them until they appeared as a gust of wind, which tunneled through the caravan. No doubt the invisible objects passed Lorelei and Brayden on their way to their new home. Several other piles and treasure groupings followed suit.

Until he passed an ornate Persian styled mirror and noticed a bright red mark on his cheek. One of the Kreelocks from before must have actually grazed him. The cut wasn’t that pronounced, it was the blood that made it a spectacle. Stopping by his bed he flopped down onto the mattress and leaned over to the opposite side of the bed with both arms slipping under the down comforter. When they returned they revealed a small black briefcase. His thumbs pressed on the rusty hinges and flipped the container open revealing a mess of medical supplies. First he went for a plastic pouch ripping the end of the package. He tossed the trash back into the case and removed the wet bacteria removing cloth and wiped down his cheek. The stringent chemicals stung softly, but pain wasn’t something unfamiliar to the Essentian. That is if you could call it pain, it was more like slight discomfort. If you take into consideration what it feels like to have your throat slit, your heart removed, and your head cut clear off. Those were experiences he’d come to identify with pain.

Underneath all the packets of band aids and gauze there rested a shiny stethoscope. Like everything else in this cave it was an item of great worth that he stole from someone who probably deserved it more. Serik pulled it out and slipped it into the inside pocket of his slim black motorcycle jacket.

Riley Cameron Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:25 pm

FOLLOWING A MYSTEROUS LEAD
THE GRAVEYARD, LOS ANGELES

Having been preoccupied with the mysterious letter now in his hands, Riley didn’t pay much attention to what was going on in front of him. What did catch his eye was the sight of Penn awaking and coughing harshly, but the sight of the healed man was too much of a miracle to go unnoticed by the blond. How had he managed to piece himself back together while he was unconscious? How had he managed to heal himself at all? Multiple strange occurrences were happening around Riley, and he didn’t like not knowing just what the hell was going on.

His chest stung where the claw marks had ripped through his clothes and his skin. The blood was seeping through his wet articles of clothing, and the cut on his arm felt like a pounding ache. His knee was still hurting, though it had already bruised and wasn’t as much of a problem as his other two wounds. The sight of his own blood caused his stomach to churn, and if he hadn’t had better control over himself, he may have puked. The thoughts of that creature sitting on top of his body, holding him down while she slashed into him, didn’t settle very easily with him.

“What is going on?” He considered it a redundant question. The chances of either of the other two actually knowing were slim, and he didn’t want to push his luck. Without warning, the older man stood and slung his shirt down, almost hitting Riley as it landed. He watched as the walking miracle took off deeper into the mausoleum, and he nodded towards Carolina that they should follow him. Though the rain heavily pounded against the building, it wasn’t the outside factors that gave him the creeps anymore. Viewings and funerals had always made him uncomfortable – the thought of a resting dead body stuck inside a casket or a chamber was too morbid for his liking.

Following behind Penn at a decent distance, the coffin shooting out did its job of freaking him out. Freezing in his tracks, he watched as the rest of the drawers began to violently shake, eyes wide with curiosity but also with terror. Part of him couldn’t help but think he was deserving of the events that were taking place, though the reason behind them all was lost on him.

“Not zombies, please not zombies..” His voice trailed off, though he only continued to stand and wait in horror of what was to come.

Margaux Bontecou Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:25 pm

Hitting Logan with the coffee was very satisfying. Probably more satisfying than actually drinking the coffee. She'd just buy another later, it wasn't that big of a deal anyway. Money well spent. She, however, was still fuming when he went into the kitchen area to soothe the burn now on his arm. She folded both petite arms over her frail body, hugging herself, eyebrows furrowed, expression knitted into one that conveyed a large amount of discomfort. This was his fault. This was not her. She should not feel guilty for getting upset over the fact that he disrespected her family and spoke badly of them when her last remaining relative had died not even two years ago. She'd lost all three of her siblings within the last two years, all relatively close to each other. Just because they had a reputation for not being nice people, didn't mean that they didn't have a good family. Even Kaprece hadn't been that terrible of a sister growing up. Sure, she'd cut ties with Kaprece when she found out what she'd done, but still.

Kaprece was the one who sat with her every day when Margaux had broken her leg when she was little. You just can't completely erase those kinds of memories.

Logan would just have to stay mad at her. The possibility of a civil conversation was long gone, apparently. If he wasn't that hurt by her leaving as he had been trying to convey, then clearly Logan was just a complete piece of shit, therefore not being worth Margaux's time in the least bit. Instead, she left the main area of the penthouse, heading out the front door and into the stairwell, trying not to let herself cry in public. She simply wiped away the tears threatening to ruin the bit of make-up she had on, barreling down the stairs rather quickly.

Brayden Abrams Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:26 pm

CONTINUING THE SEARCH
SERIK'S HAVEN

Brayden ignored the remark that was thrown his way, finding it better to let Lorelei believe she was actually cracking a witty remark rather than just rolling his eyes. He understood that she had changed over the years, but her personality shift could be too much for him to handle at times. Would he say anything? No. Would it change anything if he did? Probably not. While they had both been through the same events and dealt with things their separate ways, Lorelei had hardened into a shell of what she used to be where Brayden had thrown himself into work. Just because Lorelei had fallen apart and glued herself back together wrong, there was no need to take it out on the only person who was left for her. Sure, their friendship was still stronger than ever, but he didn't see the reason for her to be chastising him.

As soon as the Enchantress headed off, Brayden stayed close behind. He’d already made up his mind to let Lorelei handle the Horde on her own; if anything, it’d calm her down by letting her take out her vengeance on the unknown creature. She seemed to have a lot of pent up violence just waiting to be released, so who was Brayden to step in and stop her? Unless it was detrimental to her health, of course – a little friendly ass-kicking to a demonic looking creature couldn’t have been. Lorelei stepped forward and attacked, slamming the ogre-thing into the wall and kicking it while it was down. The element of surprise was a beautiful thing.

He stalked through the shadows to go further into the cave. If this were where the new Essentian was hiding out, he’d at least offer a new housing situation. The dingy cave wasn’t much of a home, even though it may have offered a nice protection for several stolen jewels and gold. The invisible passing of the objects went unnoticed by the Evoker’s eye, but the breeze that they created as they passed caused the hair to rise on his body. Light from deeper within the cave was beginning to form on the walls, so the thoughts of finally coming face to face of the homeowner were starting to form in his head. What exactly would he do when he did find him?

The body that stood in front of a Persian mirror looked as if it were as tall as his, though it stood just a bit taller. Watching with a curious eye, Brayden saw the human body examining its wound. The stranger left and returned with a black briefcase, which contained medical supplies. The objects within had Brayden watching intently, seeing the stranger take care of his cut. He stepped forward, ignoring the feeling that was creeping up inside of his stomach. The silver of the stethoscope glistened, and for a moment it was the only thing that the Abrams had his eye on. It looked very familiar.

The stranger pulled it out of the case and stuffed it inside of his jacket pocket. Brayden stepped forward, and for a small bit he wondered just what was taking Lorelei so long, but he ignored the thought in favor of gaining on their target. He still held the long dagger in his hand, though it posed no real threat, nor was it raised in a violent manner. That hadn’t ever been Brayden’s style.

“Are you the Essentian?” Brown eyes watched and waited for a response. Though his voice was soft it was still audible, and the stillness of the air around him made him feel as if he had spoken even a bit too loudly than how he had been meaning to. The person in front of him definitely couldn’t have been Serik; their bodies were vaguely similar but vastly different. Brayden didn’t feel as if the air were threatening, however; there was something comforting rather than hostile. Maybe Lorelei was wrong and Serik was gone, but the tendencies and traits were hitting dead on. Did he dare ask? “Serik?”

Sebastian Mosely Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:26 pm

FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE

It had only been a couple of months since Sebastian received the call about his father and moved to California. He had come in contact with a female huntress who explained what was going on and gave more details on what had happened that night. Not only did he have to accept the fact that his father was killed by some big bad, but now he had to walk in his footsteps and continue his work? It was a lot to digest for him, but he knew that it was in his blood to continue doing what his destiny had planned for him. That was bullshit. He liked his life and had a pretty good one up until one phone call turned his whole life upside down. Leaving from Washington, D.C was one of the hardest things he ever had to do; all his work had gone down the drain. Now his days consisted of training with Taylor and training once in a while with a new guy named Logan (who he was rather intimidated by). He found himself learning how to use blades and his hands as weapons. It was all so new to him and a lot to take in in a short amount of time. It was kind of ridiculous and it made his body ache in places he didn’t know could ache! No one had asked him if it was okay to be thrown back into this life.

The newest twist of this whole messed up rollercoaster was being ordered to meet Logan at a place where he had never been before. Fortunate Isle Penthouse? Who the hell is told to meet up at a random place? This was getting weirder the more he found out what was going on. After being given the address, he Map-Quested it and printed out the directions. It wasn’t that bad of a trip. A short car ride and to the top of a building he would go. This was really shady in his opinion. However, he trusted Taylor and knew she wouldn’t put him in any danger, right? He was also told that Logan would be there. Oh man, he hoped that it wasn’t another training session between the two males. Logan was so intense in training that he was even scared to learn. Coming up the door, his stomach starting doing flips; the unknown had always given him the creeps and made him paranoid. Today was no different. Hand curled into a fist as weary knuckles connected with the door a couple of times. Maybe no one would answer the door! Hopefully it was some big joke? A guy could dream, couldn’t he? After a few seconds of no answer and hearing words behind the door, he opened the door slightly to check inside. He knew people were in there but he didn’t want to be rude and walk right in. Blue eyes landed on a young female standing right by the doorway. She looked as confused as he felt which confirmed that he was most likely in the right place. The only bad thing? No Logan. Walking further inside, she shut the door behind him and asked the young lady. “Er, do you know if Logan is here?” He didn’t like the situation he was in, it made him paranoid. “I was told to come here.” Poor guy, so confused.

Gwendolyn Harris Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:30 pm

Fortunate Isles Penthouse

After watching the scene go on in the doorway, Gwen had found it a better idea not to enter the penthouse. The two obviously had history of which she should not have been a part of witnessing. Opting to stay in the hallway, since Logan had indeed said whoever sent her the letter was not there, she just leaned against the wall, listening to what was going down inside the Penthouse. Sounded like things were being thrown. She ducked her head down a little bit, pondering on whether or not she should just leave.

And she was going to, but then another person came up to the door looking just as confused as she was. When he eventually noticed her and asked if Logan was inside she stepped up a little, getting closer to him. This was so not the time to have difficulty speaking, but it wasn't something she could control. Opening her mouth, nothing came out. Brows furrowed ever so slightly before she was able to get some kind of sentence out. "Logan... uh... is inside... Did you... get this?" She showed him the letter she had got, which apparently had NOT been sent by Logan, but lead her here to the penthouse anyway.

She looked at the door once more before turning her gaze back to the new person in the hallway. "He... was fighting, with a girl. But it's quiet now." She shrugged, nodded towards the door. "I'm Gwen." She was pretty disjointed in her speaking and all that, but it got the point across. If he was going to open the door, she'd go inside too. At least she had someone else who was just as confused and not part of the awkward fight that she could stand next to while waiting to figure out what the hell was going on.

Serik Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:33 pm

GETTING THE F*CK OUTTA HERE;
SERIK’S HAVEN, NEAR THE HOLLYWOOD SIGN. >>

After tending to his wound but before Brayden spoke, Serik could see his former companion in the mirror. He used that time to soak in the fact that he’d finally been caught. No matter how long he’d have to prepare, was there any decent way to respond to this reunion. In the evoker’s eyes he could tell Brayden wanted his powers back, not unlike all the other arcanists. Unfortunately restoring their abilities made them instant targets. The last thing Serik wanted was to drag Brayden back into this. Why was he so ignorant? Clearly he had a more important calling as a surgeon.

Serik’s tongue wagged in his mouth behind clenched teeth, and the Essentian’s breathing and heart rate accelerated. Brayden began interrogating him, but Serik was unable to respond still fascinated by the beauty of his favorite treasure. If this were some sort of fairytale, a meeting like this would trigger memories of their first encounter. Serik would be in complete bliss to reconnect with his lost love. Instead he found himself in a fog of feelings, with no clear exit. Joyful brilliant blue eyes peered down at the dagger in the young man’s hands. Why was he armed? Did he intend to hurt me? Brayden always had this effect on him, causing the perpetually rational being to explode in a fit of indecisive emotions. Remembering the stethoscope, he fumbled along the edge of his jacket feeling out the zipper and closing his coat.

“I am the Essentian.” Serik finally replied, shifting the weight of his stance he considered the possibility of lying about his true identity. The arcanists’ understanding of Essentians were limited; so it was conceivable in their minds that he may very well be a different entity. Alternatively, there was a good chance Brayden could see through his lie. Pondering this forced his hand and in haste he confirmed his identity.

“Yes, it’s me Brayden. Let me guess you’re here for your powers?”

Sebastian Mosely Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:33 pm

FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE

Apparently he had come in at the wrong time because he could feel the tension in the air. What had he gotten himself into exactly? He had started to question if he made the right decision coming to the penthouse on blind faith. Subconsciously, he knew that coming here was the right thing to do and Taylor had never steered him wrong before. The young girl came closer to him and he felt better knowing that his confusion was shared by others. She seemed to be either scared or uncomfortable to be standing there with him, which he couldn’t blame her for. It took her a couple of seconds before she could tell him where Logan was and ask another question. At the time, Sebastian was a tad preoccupied with wanting to talk to the other hunter because he didn’t like not knowing why he was in a strange place. Attention was turned back to Gwen as she asked if he received a letter. Looking down, he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “No.. I was told to come here by a friend of mine.” Friend? He wouldn’t go that far to say friend, but it skipped over a lot of questions. He read the letter over quickly and he even got chills down his spine. That’s not creepy or anything to get a weird ass note.

They continued their conversation about what Logan had been up to and Sebastian nodded his head. “Yeah, that does kind of sound like him..” Even though the two males hadn’t spent that much time together, he picked up some on how Logan was. He was one tough individual and really didn’t care much of what anyone had to say. It was something he respected and wish he could do sometimes, but at the end of the day Sebastian could only be him, no way around it. “I’m Sebastian, nice to meet you.” With introductions out of the way, the two had a common bond. They were both confused as hell and didn’t know why they were here. He was, however, glad he didn’t receive the note that Gwen had, cause that was a tad much for him to handle at the moment. Blue eyes looked around the vacant room and wondered if more people would show up with the same look of confusion on their faces. “Do you know why we’re here by any chance?” He looked at Gwen and shrugged his shoulders a little bit. I mean, it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? The look of confusion on the young girls face didn’t give him much hope though.

Gwendolyn Harris Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:34 pm

Fortunate Isles Penthouse

If Logan was this guys friend, she wasn't sure she wanted to know either of them. She had clearly heard Logan speak harshly about the dead family of the female who had gone in before her. How could you do that? Gwen had been in shock and at a clear loss... how could you possibly speak badly about someone's recently deceased relatives? It made her feel sick. She loved her family dearly, and probably would have had the same response as Margaux had anyone ever spoken ill of her family, especially if they had passed. She was brought back to the situation at hand, however, nodded when Sebastian said that the arguement sounded like Logan. So this guy did this often, then? Gwen made a mental note to not become friendly with this man, or be in his presence too often. It really didn't seem like the best of all ideas.

Gwen stood awkwardly in the doorway for a little bit longer. She rose a brow and nodded at Sebastian's own introduction. When he asked if she knew why they were there she shook her head, brown locks bouncing across her shoulders before settling easily back into the normal spot. "Like I said..." She took a deep breath, trying to make speaking as easy as possible. "I just got the letter. I don't know... these people. Or... what the... the..." She was trying to say Horde, but it wasn't coming out. "I just don't know. I'm very confused." She nodded, watching Sebastian actually pass the doorway and step into the Penthouse. Somewhat reluctantly, she followed him inside. It was really big, and actually pretty gorgeous. But she just felt it was wrong. That there was something bad about this place... That it was going to change everything.

"I'm sorry... What do you know about... all of this?"

Brayden Abrams Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:34 pm

CONTINUING THE SEARCH
SERIK'S HAVEN

Though he waited in what seemed like agony for a response from the unknown body in front of him, when he received his first answer, his stomach tightened. The entity in front of him was in fact an Essentian, but the kicker was whether or not it was the one he knew. The scene was reminiscent of two lovers being reunited, though the joy of the situation was lost between the two. The person, Serik, revealed himself completely and spoke of what Brayden’s purposes were for tracking him down. True, his mission for the past two years was to get his powers back, but he had thought Serik to be long gone. The dagger in his hand didn’t seem to be helping his case. Dropping it to his side so as to not seem threatening, Brayden studied the being in front of him.

His body was different. The body that he knew Serik by had truly been destroyed two years ago – it was as if a completely different person were standing in front of him. He imagined it was something similar to a comatose person waking up and getting a fresh start; where they could have no recollection of their past and be a whole new person in a body that so many knew them in, Serik’s case was different. It seemed as if he were the same person Brayden had known all along, though the look on the outside had changed in appearance.

“I came hunting a new Essentian. I thought you were dead.” It wasn’t venomous, but a matter of fact. Brown eyes cast a downward glance to the cave floor, and for a moment Brayden didn’t continue. The emotions that were flooding him were overwhelming. The love he had lost was back for him again – it was a fairytale ending, right? But the Abrams knew better. The Arcanists hadn’t been thrown many good fortune bones, and when it seemed they had, they had been quickly struck down by a negative factor. He had been hunting for his powers because they were a part of him, much like the hoarding quality of Serik’s was of him. Sure, being a surgeon may have been a greater duty to some, but the war was still raging on outside. Brayden was one of the few original Arcanists left standing to continue the fight.

“I know you took them to keep me safe, but there are so many lives out there that aren’t because of it.” He wanted to say so many things, question just how long the Essentian had been back in the mortal plane. He bit back his tongue, though. For a second, he was glad that Lorelei hadn’t made it to them yet. He didn’t want to be seen in the weak state of mind he currently was in. Serik really was standing in front of him. And though he knew it made him sound as broken as he felt, he stated the words he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You didn’t tell me you were alive. If you think it was doing me a favor and keeping me alive, you’re wrong.” His whole family had died in the war. His best friend, though still alive secretly, was thought to be dead. “I want to fight in this war. It’s my birthright.” And his duty. There wasn’t one day that went by where Brayden didn’t think of the pact he had made with his older brother before he died.

Serik Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:35 pm

YOU'RE ALL I EVER NEED <3;
SERIK’S HAVEN, NEAR THE HOLLYWOOD SIGN. >>

It felt almost ethereal speaking with Brayden face to face again. The experience of having his eyes on him and being able to truly connect was something he couldn’t take for granted. Truth be told Serik had actually kept a close eye on his favorite evoker since the day he removed his powers. He watched him progress in his hospital career and secretly had his back while he hunted shadow kind. It was a fate worse than complete isolation, but for the benefit of Brayden’s survival it was the price he had to pay. Now all that suffering was in vain because his beloved arcanist was now asking to be thrown back into the fray. He truly didn’t want to deny Brayden his birthright, as those abilities were a significant connection to his lost loved ones. Not to mention the accomplishments he’d gathered from proper use and training in the arcane arts. Then on the other hand you had the risk, meaning possible death. Becoming a target once again for an endless army of monsters. As the last remaining Abrams, it was even clearer how fatal it was to possess his family’s magic. Brayden wasn’t disposable the way Serik was, even beyond the bodies. If an Essentian died, another was called. Brayden couldn’t possibly fall pray to an early death’s embrace. The world had not yet seen the full extent of rare compassion he had to share.

The concept of jumping from body to body was still an uncommon intelligence among the alchemists, so Serik wasn’t surprised by the looks he received. He was just happy that Brayden had lowered the weapon.

“Well I’m not dead, surprise!”

The Essentian’s attempt at humor more often than not ended up further casting an awkward atmosphere on those involved. This case was no different, though he did clue in on the seriousness of Brayden’s claim. Even with a poor aptitude in social interactions, he rushed to the evoker when Brayden’s head lowered. Serik’s slender arms wrapped around his beloved gently and his head buried itself in the rounded hollow section between his neck and shoulder. The scent of vanilla emerged from the Evokers soft skin, Serik attempted to breath in as much of Brayden as he could. His hands were planted on either shoulder blade, enveloping Brayden in a way that expressed the full extent of how much he’d missed him.

“Please don’t ask for your powers back, we can both leave this business. I can use all the magic in me left to hide from the ancients and we can disappear. On a surgeons salary I’ll never horde again.” That wasn’t exactly true, yeah he wouldn’t need to steal having a decent income, but the habit itself was what he’d have to contend with. “I’ll try not to horde. I just can’t let the world loose you. I don’t want to loose you. I’m afraid I can’t stop that from happening.”

Sebastian Mosely Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:35 pm

FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE

Even though there was a lot going on at the moment, it was nice to have someone there who was almost in the same boat that he was. It would have straight awkward if he was standing there by himself waiting for Logan, where ever he may be. With Gwen right there, they could pass the semi-awkward period with conversations about how much they don’t know what’s going on. Her answer had been what he expected; that she had no idea why they were here and was the bad recipient of a letter that scared the crap of a person when you read it. This was all happening so fast. Sure, he got a gist of his background and was told stories about horrible things, but this was starting to get a tad irritating. Never in his life had he followed orders so blindly and trusted a woman who told him his father died in front of her eyes. It didn’t make sense to him nor would it for a while. “I feel you; this is new for me too.” That was probably a little bit of an understatement. He didn’t even want to think about the big bad that was mentioned in the letter, so he ignored what she was trying to get across. He tried the vague response approach to calm his nerves down.

“I don’t really know much at all. My friend had called me and said that I had to meet Logan here for some strange reason. The thing is, why didn’t she just come with me? Or give me some support through this whole thing. This whole coming to a random ass place is not what I imagined doing today.” Talking about the events of his day seemed get him a little angry; and ranting to someone he didn’t know what out of character. Sorting it out in his mind, he really couldn’t change what was going on. Because of this sucky conclusion, he took in a deep breath, exhaled, and calmed down. Learning to take the high road and trying not to get upset over the inevitable was something he had been working on since he moved to California. It was something he was working on in his daily life and some days were better than others.

Gwendolyn Harris Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:36 pm

Forunate Isles Penthouse

So, he might not have gotten the scary letter that she got, but he didn't know what was going on either. This was new for him as well and he was, perhaps, just as lost as she was. This caused Gwen to pause for a moment, lost in the frustration of the entire situation. First the accident, then the strange happenings... And now this? She didn't even really know what to think. Walking over to the couch that was sitting in the midst of the room she plopped down, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. What were they supposed to do? What did this mysterious person want? Why was Sebastian here for Logan, and she was apparently here for someone else? She set her face in her hands, elbows propped up on her knees, features fixed into a sad, confused, frustrated expression. Light greens stared idly down at her ripped, dirty black converse shoes as Sebastian told of his friend who told him to come here to see Logan, and how she hadn't come as well. This was getting creepier by the minute.

"What's her name?" Gwen asked, looking up at him now, sitting up straighter, letting her hands rest easily in her lap. She looked around the room again, standing up and pacing about once more. She couldn't just sit still. She didn't feel comfortable doing that. There was coffee spilled on the floor next to a giant bookshelf -- a bookshelf of... "What... does that even say?" She rose a brow, trying to read the words splattered sideways all over the spines of these books. Some words she hadn't seen before, some she had. None of them had to do with any real subjects, though. At least not to her knowledge. But, really, what DID she know? She was the one experiencing all this strange phenomena out of nowhere. Perking up a little at the thought she turned quickly back towards Sebastian, "Have... strange things been... happening to you, too?" She askes, hesitantly, trying not to be too specific. Maybe he would get what she was saying and admit to weird things that couldn't possibly be real happening to him, too. Maybe she wasn't crazy.

Logan Kilmartin Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:36 pm

-FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE-

In the kitchen Logan found himself a six-pack of corona and had already downed the first one while Sebastian and Gwen kept each other company. As candid and sometimes rude as the hunter could be he held a lot of respect for his contemporaries and wouldn’t have kept to himself if he knew the Eldritch-mini was around. While nursing the second bottle he left for the library and finally caught sight of Taylor’s pupil. He approached the two and extended the hand holding the bottle to bump fists with Sebastian. He eyed the young girl and put on a deceptively false smirk. He wasn’t sure if she came with Margaux or whether she just had bad timing, but he was over that mess and more focused on important things.

“Man, when did you get here? Where’s Sullivan?” he uttered the second part with a tinge of paranoid while keeping the alcohol in a subtle position by his side. It’s not that he was anxious about her scolding him for his own bad behavior, but that displaying said behavior in front of Sebastian might not be appropriate. He barely gave the younger hunter a chance to answer when he nodded his head in the direction of the library and went for the more valuable tomes. The shelf had a layer of dust and spider webs on it so thick it could be seen by the naked eye. He placed his bottle of corona on the table and placed two fingers on the bridge of the book and flipped it out into his hands. Identifying the title he responded with approval and tossed the book underhanded at Sebastian’s stomach, just low enough that the boy could catch it without any fowl.

The following books were taken out in groups of two and stacked on the table beside his beer. He took a seat and with gestures guided his sidekick to do the same.

“As much as I’d love to be out there cracking some skulls, being a good hunter also means putting in the research hours. Were looking for anything that can repair memory loss or amnesia. Spells, trances, anything relating to restoring someone to their initial state.”

When Logan cracked the first book open the binding screamed out in agony over it’s advanced age. The paper within consisted of a natural mixture that closely resembled papyrus. His fingertips glided efficiently still coated with the condensation originating from his bottle. He hadn’t heard from Gavin in what seemed like hours, although he knew the guy needed some time to relax. The past couple days, he’d been working so hard even Logan felt like he was hitting the wall. It was important to be aware of your limits in order to survive this deadly game.

Searching intently he couldn’t help but involuntarily kick the ground lightly with his boot. It was a nervous habit, or a sign that Logan wasn’t the kind of personality that could stay still for too long. “So how are things with Taylor? You watching her back proper?” His words, which generally came out in an arduous style, most definitely conveyed a sense of authority when questioning his abilities in keeping his friend safe. So far Logan’s assessment of Sebastian was that he seemed like a good guy, and the elder hunter definitely saw more potential in him than most of the other newbie grunts the two initial hunters have taken in.

Lorelei Ashford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:36 pm

Within the Belly of the Cave
Serik's Haven

Left alone to deal with the Kreelock, her thoughts were slightly distracted by the one-sided battle that was going on. From what she could tell, they were very strong. If anything they were closely ranked to what a foot solider or someone within the infantry would represent. That meant she should be able to handle this one on her own if she kept firm control on the minor conflict. While she couldn’t see what Brayden was doing or where he was going, she could sense when he slipped away as he clung to the shadows. The Kreelock was completely distracted; he stood up staring daggers at the bold huntress. In the corner of her eyes a glint of fire could be seen residing in the dark pools of green. A part of her came alive, it was the closer she had ever come to that feeling. Killing and fighting Horde or hunters had been the only instant when she felt like she was actually accomplishing something. Without her powers she had been taking from the front lines. The fact she remembered, that she knew that she was ineffective and the battle still raged on gnawed at her conscious mind. Fate would have been sweeter if her memories had been stripped away so that her memories of the ongoing battle wouldn’t haunt her. As one of the unchosen, Lorelei knew she had no power to turn the tide or actually make a major difference. Because she was almost virtually powerless, many more were dying by the hands of the Horde. Even if she was a target with her powers, she could at least make more of a difference.

The Kreelock before her charged directly at her, before she could move out of the way, she felt a breeze pass right behind her. Momentarily distracted as she turned her head, Lorelei would see nothing there. Yet, she would feel the heavy weight of a clad body throw itself at her chest and send her flying back into the fall. Head hitting stone she was temporarily fazed, shaking the dizziness away. “Damnit!” She growled under her breath as she looked up to see the clawed fingertips aimed right at her. Without thinking, she blindly rolled towards the side and out of harm’s way. Her vice like grip on the gun would keep it from flying out of her hands. Lying on her back, feet planted on the ground she aimed and pumped the barrel. The double-barrel shots echoed off the wall right at the Kreelock. She didn’t pause for a moment as she tossed the gun and reached for the blade hidden away in her boot. Tearing it out she rolled to her feet and closed the distance between her and the creature. The crystal around her neck glowed as she jammed the point of the blade into the neck of the beast lying on the floor before twisting the handle and slicing it off from the rest of its body.

Pieces remained lifeless on the ground as her breathing was slightly labored. She had managed to push away the effects of the head trauma, but now they returned. Bracing a hand against the wall, she took a minute to compose herself. The blade dangled from her grasp as she slowly reached back to dab at the back of her head with her fist. Hissing in slight pain she brought her hand around to find it stained with red. “Shit…” Retrieving her gun and wiping the blade on the ground, in the distance she could hear voices. Point down, the blade returned to it’s hiding place within her boot. Raising a brow towards the heavens, she carefully made her way to the dim light at the end of the cave. Upon reaching the entrance, she found Brayden in the arms of the man on the video she witnessed earlier. Eyes narrowed as the pieces of the puzzle fit together. Serik…it was like two years had flashed before her. There had been no actual proof that he was alive, just a trail she could have easily imagined in he head. Yet, there he was—living proof that she wasn’t crazy, that the last two years hadn’t been a waste. An invisible weight off her shoulders was removed as a new one replaced it. He had her powers. There was nothing to stop her from getting them back other than the Essentian. Witnessing the tender moment between the united couple had been the only evidence she needed towards his identity.

Brayden Abrams Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:36 pm

CONTINUING THE SEARCH
SERIK'S HAVEN

Brayden had been oblivious to the Essentian’s watching over him like a guardian angel. In a sense, he had been given a fresh start those two years ago. He could have focused solely on his career and flourished in the medical field even further than he had to this day. But while Serik didn’t understand much about this plane, there was one thing he knew Brayden wouldn’t have been giving up: the hunt. Even though his powers had been taken from him, he hadn’t given up the fight. If anything, the experience had made him even more determined to keep on fighting. Serik’s joking response to Brayden’s words twisted in his head; one part of him wanted to laugh because he understood how the other was still somewhat clueless on mortal cues, yet the hard truth of it all was enough to keep him from laughing.

Arms wrapped around his body, hands holding him close in a familiar embrace. The realness of it all seemed too good to be true. Serik held Brayden close in his arms, murmuring compromises into his neck and expressing how he felt for the Abrams. It was habit; so familiar and so serene that it was as if time were still for that moment. His limbs rose, sliding around the Essentian’s torso and holding him there. He didn’t want to let go of him; he feared that if he did, it would be another chance for the other to disappear for another two years, or forever.

Serik pleaded for Brayden not to ask for his powers back, for them both to leave the world and cloak themselves away from the call of the Ancients. He spoke of how he’d try not to thieve things that held great value to him or looked pretty, and the Evoker held on with every word. The fantasy of them escaping was something Brayden had thought about time and time again back when life had just began getting hard; it would have been easy to convince him to run away with the mysterious being who had captivated him back then. Brayden had a choice – did he take up Serik on his offer or did he go against him?

The choice didn’t come easily for him. But while he may have ran off two years ago, the cold realization of the war around him had left him with no other choice. He couldn’t turn his back on the people that needed him. He had experience that could help save those that the Horde threatened. He was one of the few people who stood as a major player in the war. With the situation he was in now, with Serik wrapped in his arms, it was a hard choice for him to choke back. “No. I need my powers back; you say you don’t want to lose me, yet when my powers were taken from me, I lost a major part of myself.”

His arms shifted, pulling back from the embrace of the Essentian and placing his hands on the front of his shoulders. He pushed forward, stepping back in the process and bringing his gaze to rest on the facial features of Serik’s new body. “You can’t hide from the Ancients. I want my link back to the war. I can do so much good, but without my gifts I’m more of a liability.” Brown hues bore into Serik’s eyes; he didn’t want to make that choice, but it was whom he was. “I won’t turn my back on the war.”

Brayden remained oblivious to the presence of the brunette huntress behind him. As he waited for a response from Serik, he fought back the memories of times they had previously shared together. The emotions coursing through him were difficult combatants, but Brayden mostly contained his composure. He couldn’t willingly live a life where he didn’t have the link to his family. That power had ran through his family for generations, and stood as one of the only chains of memory that he had left. He didn’t want to give up Serik, but he couldn’t be complete without his power.

Penn Rutherford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:37 pm

FOLLOWING A MYSTEROUS LEAD
THE GRAVEYARD, LOS ANGELES

Backing up further and further from the rumbling coffins he watched with horror anticipating the other drawers to follow the pattern of the first. He backed up meeting up with the other two and held his arm out keeping the three of them from the aim of a marble coffin. It scratched across the floor where they once were. On the other end of the hallway the same effect was tearing apart the walls and memoriam. If this creature had the ability to manipulate objects inside the mausoleum, were they technically safe inside? In the middle of the “T” formation seemed as safe as any place, the drawers were without a clear shot and for the most part it was running out of ammo. Penn’s heart rate had quickened from the first drawer and every time a marble coffin slammed on the ground it shook the very soul out of his body. With the walls mostly empty Penn spoke up trying to make light of the mood. “I guess the asshole is either out of mojo or gave up.”

An abrupt silence filled the room before decaying bodies arose from the fallen caskets. Zombie-like creatures crawled out from the holes in the wall. They moved like Romero zombies, slow and shambling. Penn went for brass candelabra much like the others around the halls and held it horizontally while he barreled down into a group of walking dead. The bar caught a small number of them and with his arm forcefully outstretched he actually broke several in half. When the younger one’s response was in displeasure of zombies he knew this meant he had to step it up for their survival. He kept his line around the other two and swung the lighting fixture into the ashy monsters as soon as they were within his reach.

In the distance the doors from all sides were rattling. The two on the ends with the chain locks were more likely to hold even in the face of an undead army. The front door though was probably their best source of breaking in. A built-in alcove resided above their current position on the wall. With the drawers out the remaining holes made a perfect latter for them to reach higher ground. Beyond the alcove was a skylight that must have been put in place to provide energy free lighting for visitors. While strategizing a possible escape a decomposing thrall latched onto the tattoo artists arm. Penn swiftly punched the pole up into the monsters head.

“Climb the walls, I think we can get out of the skylight! Were not going to make it trying to sit it out here!”

Sebastian Mosely Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:37 pm

FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE

Eyes watched as the younger female went to sit down on the couch and he walked further into the unfamiliar penthouse. He couldn’t blame her for walking and taking a seat. There was a bunch to take in a very short amount of time. The more these two spent with one another the more questions that seeped into their brains and out through their mouths. Even though he knew that Gwen wouldn’t be able to answer him and vice versa, they still managed to ask each other no matter what the response was. It also helped keep the conversation going as well. “Her name is Taylor; she’s one of the two people I know in California right now. It’s been a long couple of months..” Remembering when he first moved here made him laugh softly because of how far-fetched it would have sounded if he actually explained himself. It wasn’t everyday you learned about vampires, wendigos, and harpies. It felt like he took one giant leap from normal to crazy in a mere six hours (which was the duration of the flight over to the west coast). As she referred to the bookshelf across from them, his eyes went to the cob-web covered shelves and he lifted up his shoulders once more. “The spines of the books are too dusty for me to make out any words of interest.” She had a point. It was a good idea to go and figure out what the books did say since it might lead to them finding out more about the place they were in. His curiosity was starting to get the better of him and he really did want to see what was behind all that dust and negligence. His thoughts were soon interrupted when she asked another question. Have… strange things been… happening to you, too? Her words cut through him like a knife. He tried not to acknowledge what he had been doing or seeing for that matter and push it out of his brain for as long as possible. “Depends on what you define as crazy..” Considering the last two months had been nothing but crazy!

No more details could be said as the intimidating one walked in on the two conversing. Finally! Someone he recognized and immediately a quarter of his paranoid thoughts disappeared. In all actuality, Logan did make him feel a little bit better because it now confirmed that he was in the right place and not some random serial-killers penthouse. He put his fist out to bump Logan’s as a hello. “Hey not too long ago, I let myself in. Taylor told me to meet you here. She’s taking care of some things.” Sebastian didn’t even want to know what his teacher was up to at the moment. He had to remember that he came into their lives in the middle of a war and they would be busy with other things. What was more frightening is that he would have to be taking care of his own problems later on down the line. Logan kept walking and he only assumed that the young hunter would have to follow him as well. “It was nice talking to you Gwen, I’ll talk to you later?” The response couldn’t be heard as he left to follow his elder. They turned into a new room which he figured was the library.

He was welcome with a book thrown to his lower abdomen and he caught it with ease. His reflexes had started to become much quicker the more he trained with Taylor. There were things he hadn’t known he was capable of and was now mastering because of her and the one sitting in the room with him. Taking his own seat next to the hunter, he opened his book carefully, dust coming up and into his face. He listened to what he was looking for and nodded that he understood. “Got it, researching is something I am actually good at.” Not that he wasn't good at fighting, he was starting to get good at that too. "I actually got a hit on her the other day while we were sparring.. and I was so excited that I didn't notice that it barely broke her concentration and I was on the ground before I knew what happened." It was actually a funny story. He was a walking bruise because of the huntress, but he learned a lot from her and was impressed with her skill. "I'm getting there though. Right now she's watching my back more than I'm watching hers." However, he knew he was making progress and was a good fighter -- to the average joe. Compared to Logan or Taylor of course he'd get his ass kicked. It was the perserverance and heart he had to learn that made him stand out. Eyes went down to his book as he skimmed the words looking for any of the keywords given.

Serik Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:37 pm

YOU'RE ALL I EVER NEED <3;
SERIK’S HAVEN, NEAR THE HOLLYWOOD SIGN. >>

In Serik’s perspective tears meant that a tortured victim was going to divulge the secrets he held dear, or someone was weak willed and easy to take advantage of. He’d never shed one, but this experience, this flood of rejection caused him to finally see from the other side of the fence. He took his hands back from Brayden’s frame and wiped the incoming whelm from his icy eyes.

He could understand how Brayden felt; it wasn’t as if he was too dramatic not to notice the reasoning behind his beloved’s request. He threw out his arms one facing the Enchantress and the other directed to his hearts evoker. Filtering the weave’s proprieties he strained to restore both of their powers at the same time. It may have seemed silly but after this he needed some space, as he worked his magic he was able to imagine what this course of events meant. The Incantare Prophecy would finally be set in motion and the hordes filthy victory was destined to take place in two years time.

His throat burned every time the Essentian swallowed suggesting that this body was incapable of withstanding the magic he was producing. Soreness on the inside always presented itself as an arcane expiration date. When the spell was finished Serik heaved over into a position that looked as though he might be sick, but it was the strain on his spine that gave the flimsy structure appearance. A breath escaped from his dry lips before he tossed himself back into Brayden’s arms. He held his boy so tight he wanted them to forever belong to the same form. He titled his head and lightly kissed Brayden’s neck, distracting him long enough to slip the stethoscope from his own jacket into When he backed up his eyes were like ineffective dams against unnatural waters. “I love you and I understand why you wanted your powers back. Please understand.. This isn’t because of you, this body can’t hold me.” Serik’s current body coated in colorful lights before evaporating into thin air. He had options; he could regenerate his current form, or find a new structure in the meantime he needed to report this important key fact to his surperiors.

Gwendolyn Harris Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:38 pm

Fortunate Isles Penthouse

She watched Sebastian with interest. He seemed to be just as conflicted as she was... but somehow, Gwen just knew he had some information on what was going on that she didn't. He knew something more about this world that she wasn't aware of yet. Thsi was driving her crazy, this sitting and waiting. Almost punny, considering it was either a) she finds out she IS crazy and the weird happenings were just hallucinations and side effects from her brain injury, or b) she wasn't crazy and the world was just much more complex than she'd originally assumed. Answering her question about who his friend was, she brought herself back into the room and conversation, blushing a litlte at how easily she let herself go off into her head like that. "I used to know a lot of people in L.A." Said rather off-handedly. She didn't really want to go into detail. He didn't answer her question about if weird things were happening to him do. She hated when people were vague. 'Depends on your definition of crazy' was not even close to an answer. Even 'what kind of weird things do you mean?' Would have been a better answer.

She was now clearly irritated.

And then he was being dragged off by the same douchebag who yelled at the other girl and still, she was not getting any answers! What was she even doing here? What did this scary note mean? She just sat there, rather dumbfounded as the two went off to play teacher and student and do whatever it was they were doing, reading books about matters that could directly involve her! She stood up, pacing around the room, still hightly irritated by the situation. There really was only one way to get what she wanted. She turned on her heel and stalked after where they had gone to. After maybe one wrong turn, she found her way to the library, hearing their hushed voices as they spoke about whatever it was they were talking about. She tapped her foot anxiously, clearing her throat to get their attention. "Look!" She demanded, wanting to have both their attention fully. "This note?" She said, pointing to the one that she had shown the both of them earlier. "Is scary. I'm in serious danger from something I have never heard of. It told me. To. Come. Here. And you BOTH are here. Can someone please just tell me WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. GOING. ON!?!?" As irritated as she was, it wasn't surprising that, under her breath, a few words fluttered out, and following those random words, there was a sharp, high pitched noise before a glass fixture that was in the room shattered and broke.

Great.

"Please, I'm begging you. Tell me what's happening."

[-1 spell point; Shatter spell]

Riley Cameron Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:39 pm

FOLLOWING A MYSTEROUS LEAD
THE GRAVEYARD, LOS ANGELES

The coffins continued to shake and shoot out with fervor, and every horror movie he had ever watched raced through Riley’s head at that precise moment. While he normally loved a good scary movie, actually living through an event worthy of one had him terrified. It may have been inappropriate at the moment, but once the caskets stopped, he focused on brushing some of the dirt that was caked on his skin off. His wounds were still torn open and the pain served as a constant reminder, though his blood was beginning to harden and scab over the shallower cuts. Penn spoke, and for a second it was as if things were going to be all right – that was quickly ruined, Riley’s fear quaking his heart whenever the decaying bodies arose from their deathbeds.

Penn dashed for the side of the room and grabbed hold of a massive candelabra to use as a weapon, but Riley was hesitant and stood in his tracks. What if they were infected? How could they really protect themselves from getting their brains ea—oh, by running through them with a candelabra and cutting their boney bodies in half. At least no one had joked about Riley falling from the same fate.

”Climb the walls, I think we can get out of the skylight! We’re not going to make it trying to sit it out here!”

Penn shouted out their battle plan, and the blond quickly noted before grabbing onto Carolina’s wrist once more. Pulling her towards the empty drawer-holes, he shooed her up before worrying about himself. Without a weapon or some sort of defense – he didn’t know how to pull off the nifty magic trick he had accomplished earlier – he was pretty much climbing for his life. He attempted shimmying up the wall as fast as he could, but he hadn’t expected his ankle to be snatched or his body to be pulled downwards. Biting back a scream, he kicked his grasped foot towards the undead creature. Though he managed to break free, his leg caught on the side of open drawer door, cutting a thin mark into the back of his shin.

He scrambled up to the top of the alcove, bending down and leaning over to offer a hand to Penn so he had help getting up. If his hand were taken, he’d pull upwards, helping to hoist the older male up top and away from the slowly shambling zombies. Getting to his feet, he waited for instruction on what to do – the sight of the creatures below still made his guts twist and turn vehemently. Turning on his heel quickly, he made his way towards the nearest point to the skylight, though waited for his mausoleum pals to catch up. They’d need something to break through the glass, and Riley was fresh out of any steel rods.

Lorelei Ashford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:39 pm

The End of the Hunt
Serik’s Haven

To the Enchanter, the head of the Evocation family had always had a soft heart. While in the past, Lorelei Ashford had never held that fact against him; in recent times she had given him a hard time. It wasn’t that she was purposely trying to hurt or scold him; she wanted him to be prepared for the worst. She couldn’t bare it if she lost him too. A large part of her had always felt that she should have died with the others. Fate had been cruel. The enchantress had been left to deal with the pain and loss alone and Brayden, at the time, was her only link to her past life. If anything happened to him, she would have been truly alone. By separating herself from Brayden for long periods of time, he wouldn’t be pulled into the fray since she constantly threw herself into dangerous situations. True, she came out relatively unscathed but she only put her life at risk. Never his. She loved him as if he was her own brother, he was family and she could never deal with that kind of loss. Her own brother had fallen at the hands of the Behemoth, Brayden, while not blood related was just as important. She had already lost the most important person and survived, yet that had pushed her very close to the edge of losing everything. Her life was dedicated to the battle at hand, while she may not survive to see the end, Lorelei would make sure that she did whatever was in her power to do to make a difference. Her decisions and thought process might have been skewed, but her intentions were true and genuine.

The two before her had shared a strong bond, something she could have understood before devastation had overtaken the arcanists. She had been about to interrupt, but Brayden had spoken before the words could tumble from her lips. Quietly she observed the exchange, from his demeanor, Lorelei could read the pain and hurt hidden behind a ridged posture. This was something he had to get off his chest despite how difficult it might have been. Love still rested at the surface, but duty and family had been the overriding priorities for the Evoker. In that moment she heard and saw all she needed to. Even though it may have been sad to witness fallen innocence, deep down in her hardened heart she felt pride and respect for him. While she was younger than Brayden by a year, the two had shared a long history since childhood. She had always been the instigator and he had followed.

Tilting her head to the side, long locks would brush against the side of her cheek as she left the two to their reunion. Once complete she would make her move, she would give her friend that much. She had little feelings for Serik, while he believed stripping their powers were for their own good, many had been placed in danger—many could have died that she might have prevented. Her powers were a part of who she was, they didn’t make her, but they were a legacy and birthright she was born into and rightfully deserved. Serik may not have understood and truly felt he was doing right by them, but Lorelei could never accept the loss. She would go down fighting, not hiding. About to give him a piece of her mind as she took a step closer, she barely caught his submission and was overcome with a growing warmth flowing through every single pore of her body. With a quick intake of breath, long lashes closed tightly as she could sense her powers returning to her. The familiar feel was almost overwhelming but hadn’t pulled her under its grip. They belonged rightfully to her and she was restored. Mixed emotions overcame her as the effects died down. The Essentian’s last words were too far away and soft for her to here, his body slowly evaporated and left the Evoker standing alone. Silence stretched across the empty cave as she closed the distance between them, she took one last look at the spot where Essentian had been. For two years she had been on a wild goose chase searching for him, and now it was all over. Lithe fingers would fall on the shoulder of Brayden as she squeezed gently. It was the only way she could show some kind of understanding. “Let’s get out of here.” She turned from the scene and left the cave behind.

Gwendolyn Harris Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:40 pm

Fortunate Isles Penthouse

She couldn’t take it. Everything around her was either exploding or turning into complete chaos – with no answers from anyone on what the hell was going on, her mind was racing with thousands of scenarios of just what the hell was happening around her. Granted, she wasn’t giving anyone much time to actually sit her down and talk to her, but with everything in her life seemingly being in shambles, she didn’t think she had much time to waste. The letter did say that her blood was wanted to be spilled and basically bathed in. That seemed like a good enough reason to freak out to her.

Tears began to well up. Make-up ran and her eyes started to puff up, eyeliner smearing down her cheeks with her waterworks. The situation was all too crazy for her to handle. The door slamming behind the French girl in the other room gathered all of her attention, and she assumed it was another object exploding from a strange incidence that she may have caused. Before anyone could answer any question she had yelled out to them, she dashed out of the room and followed the example set by the petite girl from before.

Opening the door and slamming it behind her in her hurry to escape from the madness inside, she barely caught the elevator before Margaux had taken it down. Both girls cried the whole way down, though both were frustrated with separate issues – emphasis on the “issues”. As the elevator chimed with its cheery music in contrast to the two women’s current moods, it slowly progressed towards the bottom floor. Gwendolyn grabbed hold of her long brunette locks, gripping them in frustration as she cried. She couldn’t take not knowing what was happening to her. Ever since the car accident, her life was spent in fits of complete insanity.

The door opened. Both women left in a hurry, taking the back exit so that they weren’t seen upset by the visitors in the lobby. Gwendolyn even held open the door for Margaux to pass through, though she quickly followed her outside and into the alleyway after letting the door shut behind her.

“Can you explain what is happening to me?”

Lucas Emmerson Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:40 pm

The Fourth Annual Past the Valley Ball was off to a rousing start. Every guest had been personally invited by the founder and host, Lucas Emmerson. Nearly two hundred people filled the ballroom of his father’s Los Angeles estate, another hundred or so were out on the lawn, sipping champagne and networking. Lucas was watching it all from the balcony; people milling around, laughing, dancing, drinking. God, he hated this part of the job.

He was dressed in classic tuxedo, his hair trimmed the week before, his jaw cleanly shaven, and his socks matched. Hell, he wore them, that was a feat in itself. Luc’s general attire consisted of jeans, a highly inappropriate t-shirt and a cell phone stuck to his ear. Any additional clothing was dependant on his coffee intake and destination.

But for now, he watched, knowing each guest had been introduced to the cause of homelessness and desperation. That each woman had been brought to shimmering LA tears with the tales of children abused by one system or another. How they, in their richness and vapid beauty, could save the world. Idiots.

He used to be a bit kinder, a bit more lenient to his wealthy benefactors. But since “that night” Luc had struggled with the effort it took to cajole pennies from the masses. They could afford so much and gave so little! Once what he took in stride, he now held contempt for. It was his own fault and he knew it.

Six months ago, working yet another late night at the foundation, Lucas met Arabelle. At least, that’s what she said her name was. Homeless, hurting, she came to the foundation for help. He brought her in, secured her in his office. She had such bright blue eyes, such pain in them, what could he have done but try and help?

Four minutes. That’s how long it took to reach the kitchen and grab the girl a drink and a pack of peanut butter crackers. He expected to find what he left; a scared girl, trembling and frightened. What he discovered instead was the end of one life, the beginning of another. Opening the door, he saw her elbow deep in his lock box, taking fistfuls of the day’s donations. A gasp, a look, blue eyes met his and the next thing he knew, he was looking at his chest and the growing blotch of red.

"I’m sorry…shit…I’m sorry!”
“It’s…okay"

Dumbfounded, he gave the automatic response, his hand pressing to the wound. He hit his knees, the girl running past him, running to get her next fix of heroin. All he could do was lay there and bleed. He didn’t remember calling 911, but they came. He wasn’t bitter that night, not the dying. Not even the next night when he awoke to agony. It was the third night. They found his shooter.

Arabelle was not the hopeless and abandoned. She was the daughter of a very wealthy, very famous man. There was no apology from him, just a check cut in hopes to make the problem disappear. A check that wouldn’t scratch the surface of the man’s accounts. That’s when he grew disgusted. If they won’t give everything for their own, what chance did he have of making a difference for those that weren’t in their fold?

“I’m sorry...”

Luc whipped around, the flashback so real a hand went to the starched shirt, expecting to see blood. But there was no Arabelle, just a guest, his date. Sarah was a pretty brunette with the social graces of Queen Elizabeth and the personality of Mr. Ed (yes, the horse). A woman with little personality, but a divine messenger service, for it seemed she was currently holding up an envelope out towards him.

“Again, sorry… but this was left with the donations. I thought you might care to open it. As for me, I’ve kissed all the botoxed cheeks I can for one evening. It was a success, Lucas; you might want to try smiling. Good night.”

He took the envelope, feigned a charming smile, and returned the kiss to her cheek. With the agreement to call soon, Lucas opened the envelope, the smile fading away into a scowl of confusion. The crystal palmed, the note folded and tucked into his tuxedo jacket. It would appear the evening was not winding down, after all.

Luc made his departure with little ruckus. That was the beauty of hosting a Los Angeles event, everyone was so absorbed in themselves, and you could get away with nearly anything. GPS was loaded with Fortunate Isle information, the app loading as he maneuvered the sleek black Mustang from the garage. Despite having lived in Los Angeles his entire life, he was not the best navigator.

Obtaining the speed laws and motorist signage, Lucas took the mini recorder app on his phone and put it to use with one hand while the other remained on the steering wheel. “First, find out what the Hoarde is. Wiki rituals, cults, blood soaking. Next, see how they might have obtained any information on me or the things I hold dear. Short list. Third, last but not least, get any information on who owns the Fortunate Isle penthouse. “ Tucking the phone in the tuxedo pocket, the Mustang found a rather convenient parking spot.

He felt a little like James Bond. Wearing a tux, going to a meeting with an unknown source to save the world. Well, his world, at least. Pfft. Utter bullshit. So, why was he going? Why were those Italian shoes taking him through the front entrance and toward the elevator? Because he had no choice. He had been waiting for it. Not this, specifically. But a part of him felt drawn here, to this place and time.

Somehow, despite the lack of a passkey, the elevator hummed to life as he stepped within. Maybe it was the security camera? Dark eyes squinted at the lighting, checking the ceiling for evidence. With today’s technology, it could be anywhere. Just in case, Lucas removed the crystal from his pocket and turning in a slow circle, holding it up.

“Okay…I’m here. I have the rock, I have the note. What I don’t have is a clue. Hello? Anyone?” The ding of the doors had him turning full circle once again. There was the hallway and the door in the middle. It loomed like the first goodnight kiss on your last first date. You know the one: it was The One.

Crystal gripped in hand, feeling slightly idiotic but no less than he had the entire journey here, Lucas Emmerson closed the distance to the penthouse doors. Blowing out a breath, he noticed the screen and gave a wave of the rock in a ‘here I am’ gesture. Opening the doors, he was assaulted visually by the statue. A wince and shake of his head, Luc closed the door behind him and called out.

“Ok, I showed up, do I get another clue or am I just here to look at overpriced art?”

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