The Year is 2014, its been a strange few years. In 2010 the world was devastated by a sudden and...
Surviving the Whirlwind: A Rational Supernatural Quest
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Surviving the Whirlwind
The Year is 2014, its been a strange few years. In 2010 the world was devastated by a sudden and unexplained outbreak of violence, natural disasters and plagues that killed millions. In 2011 the violence continued only ending when a man claiming to be God incarnate appeared performed numerous blatantly supernatural feats including healing the sick, killing the guilty and sparking massive controversy in the Religious Community before vanishing.
In 2012 Big Businessman Richard Roman gained unheard off popularity and expanded his company Richard Roman Enterprises into the food sector. Roman is on the shortlist of most powerful men in America before his death in a terrorist attack that claimed the lives of everyone in Roman Enterprises main offices including the company's board of directors.
In 2013, Jefferson Rooney wins the election and takes office as President of the United States replacing Barrack Obama. He presents himself as a man of the people who understands the plight of his country having lost his wife in the chaos of 2011.
The year is 2014 and all over the world the sky is illuminated by streaks of falling light.
https://youtu.be/l6GyqC0wxkU
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Okay this is a Rationalist Supernatural Quest where Voters as a collective can influence the actions of a group of characters as they live through a composite/retelling of Supernatural Seasons 9 – 12.
This project is heavily inspired by https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/marked-for-death-a-rational-naruto-quest.24481/ and I give credit to the authors/creators of that project as geniuses of the highest order.
I will be making changes to the setting and backstory in the name of consistency and expanding plot lines that were neglected in the canon show.
Season 1 – 8 mostly happened as per canon but with some differences.
I do not own Supernatural, all rights belong to Eric Kripke.
Chapter Index - Character List
Chapter Index
To be added
Character list
To be added
Character list
Race: Human
Age: 20
Description: Short, dirty blonde hair crowns his head like a filthy crown, a head taller then most and wide at the shoulders. Long unwieldy arms hang down from these shoulders, yet these arms move with deceptive quickness and often find fingers twitching of their own accord, almost trying to clench into fists. Grey eyes look at the world ever shifting their focus.
History: Alexander's father Jason O'Morris was a proud catholic man, born and raised in Ireland, he fled with his Protestant English wife to America once the troubles began, unfortunately Alexander's mother died birthing him shortly afterwards.
Jason was a boxer and taught his son the basics of the style as he grew up. New York was home to the two and it wasn't a bad life, Alexander got into fights at school quite regularly and Jason ended up a bouncer at a club
Around Alexander 18th year things went wrong, Jason never a man to indulge started letting himself go, putting on weight and becoming increasingly uninterested in the goings on of the world around him. He lost his job because he couldn't be bothered to turn up to work, lost the respect of his son as he became an obese coach potato and Alexander was forced to withdraw from school after an ugly fight that got him suspended.
It was almost a relief when a man shaped thing with black goo for blood and a a mouth like a shark kicked down the door and ate Jason alive. And it would have eaten Alexander too, if it wasn't for the Hunter. He cut the monsters head off, got Alexander out of the apartment and explained that their were monsters in the world the one that ate his father was a Leviathan and it was the poison they were putting into foods that was responsible for his fathers decay.
Alexander spent the next two years learning the hunters trade, how to scam and counterfeit, to stretch his late fathers accounts out to pay his way across country, how to shoot a gun and wield a machete because going hand to hand with monsters ended with your skull crushed. He learned in back rooms and bars from the few older hunters he could contact about the lore and the rules and how to stay under the radar of the law.
Some hunters had the skill to pose as law enforcement they walked right into crime scences and got the info from the horses mouth, Alexander was to young and inexperienced to pull that off he was more of a drifter and a tracker. He studied news paper accounts of weird deaths and searched the web.
By his 20th year he had a few kills under his belt, and was starting to adjust to the hunter life.
Age: 20
Description: Short, dirty blonde hair crowns his head like a filthy crown, a head taller then most and wide at the shoulders. Long unwieldy arms hang down from these shoulders, yet these arms move with deceptive quickness and often find fingers twitching of their own accord, almost trying to clench into fists. Grey eyes look at the world ever shifting their focus.
History: Alexander's father Jason O'Morris was a proud catholic man, born and raised in Ireland, he fled with his Protestant English wife to America once the troubles began, unfortunately Alexander's mother died birthing him shortly afterwards.
Jason was a boxer and taught his son the basics of the style as he grew up. New York was home to the two and it wasn't a bad life, Alexander got into fights at school quite regularly and Jason ended up a bouncer at a club
Around Alexander 18th year things went wrong, Jason never a man to indulge started letting himself go, putting on weight and becoming increasingly uninterested in the goings on of the world around him. He lost his job because he couldn't be bothered to turn up to work, lost the respect of his son as he became an obese coach potato and Alexander was forced to withdraw from school after an ugly fight that got him suspended.
It was almost a relief when a man shaped thing with black goo for blood and a a mouth like a shark kicked down the door and ate Jason alive. And it would have eaten Alexander too, if it wasn't for the Hunter. He cut the monsters head off, got Alexander out of the apartment and explained that their were monsters in the world the one that ate his father was a Leviathan and it was the poison they were putting into foods that was responsible for his fathers decay.
Alexander spent the next two years learning the hunters trade, how to scam and counterfeit, to stretch his late fathers accounts out to pay his way across country, how to shoot a gun and wield a machete because going hand to hand with monsters ended with your skull crushed. He learned in back rooms and bars from the few older hunters he could contact about the lore and the rules and how to stay under the radar of the law.
Some hunters had the skill to pose as law enforcement they walked right into crime scences and got the info from the horses mouth, Alexander was to young and inexperienced to pull that off he was more of a drifter and a tracker. He studied news paper accounts of weird deaths and searched the web.
By his 20th year he had a few kills under his belt, and was starting to adjust to the hunter life.
Race: Ghost
Age: 20:
Description: Her long red hair was once a source of pride for Shelly,now its It's dull, almost like faded blood now,
her skin is unnaturally pale, and their are the marks from rough hands clear on her body, ugly red bruises around her arms, wrists and neck. They don't go away, big and dark and there. Always there.
The only part of her that doesn't radiate a sense of wrong is the eyes, clear blue and with some life left in them.
History: Shelly had a temper as a young girl, a real big one. The youngest of five sisters she had to be loud to be noticed, it was the only way. She wasn't excessively smart, overly pretty (at least in her opinion) nor was she overly sporty.
Sherry resigned herself to her slot in life by age 11. She learned to restrain the angry impulse, to speak concisely and keep her head down. She didn't have many friends and was lonely this changed at age 17 when she met Samson Stein. Samson was warmth and jokes and attention given freely without apparent cost. He was interested in her for her sake and made an effort to please her.
She was maddly in love by the end of the month. It felt like a breath of fresh air, like something warm and bright had come into her life and she was determined to never let it go. He lavished her with gifts, dresses and jewelery and for that to continue she would have done anything for him. And in time she did.
By 19 her life was a house in town far from home and family, her life was wearing skimpy outfits and smiling at the clients Samson brought in to watch her dance on stage or take her to a backroom for unwanted hands and touches that made her feel unclean. She convinced herself it wasn't all bad, she had regular meals and Sanson was kind to her as long as the bills got paid.
Her life ended at 20, the latest customer was interested in something more intense than she could provide and killed her when she couldn't give it to him. She saw a woman in black who asked her to come with her to what came next but Sherry refused, she didn't imagine Heaven would be possible for her with her choices and the idea of a existence without the demands of Sanson and job appealed.
Age: 20:
Description: Her long red hair was once a source of pride for Shelly,now its It's dull, almost like faded blood now,
her skin is unnaturally pale, and their are the marks from rough hands clear on her body, ugly red bruises around her arms, wrists and neck. They don't go away, big and dark and there. Always there.
The only part of her that doesn't radiate a sense of wrong is the eyes, clear blue and with some life left in them.
History: Shelly had a temper as a young girl, a real big one. The youngest of five sisters she had to be loud to be noticed, it was the only way. She wasn't excessively smart, overly pretty (at least in her opinion) nor was she overly sporty.
Sherry resigned herself to her slot in life by age 11. She learned to restrain the angry impulse, to speak concisely and keep her head down. She didn't have many friends and was lonely this changed at age 17 when she met Samson Stein. Samson was warmth and jokes and attention given freely without apparent cost. He was interested in her for her sake and made an effort to please her.
She was maddly in love by the end of the month. It felt like a breath of fresh air, like something warm and bright had come into her life and she was determined to never let it go. He lavished her with gifts, dresses and jewelery and for that to continue she would have done anything for him. And in time she did.
By 19 her life was a house in town far from home and family, her life was wearing skimpy outfits and smiling at the clients Samson brought in to watch her dance on stage or take her to a backroom for unwanted hands and touches that made her feel unclean. She convinced herself it wasn't all bad, she had regular meals and Sanson was kind to her as long as the bills got paid.
Her life ended at 20, the latest customer was interested in something more intense than she could provide and killed her when she couldn't give it to him. She saw a woman in black who asked her to come with her to what came next but Sherry refused, she didn't imagine Heaven would be possible for her with her choices and the idea of a existence without the demands of Sanson and job appealed.
Race: Ghoul
Age: 20
Appearance: That of the last meal.
History: The Reynolds clan of Ghouls were more forward thinking than most of their bloodline, why not use their Eve given gifts to move up in the world they thought, of course they had to satisfy the hunger and avoid the attention of hunters but such things were easier done with resources.
Clyde's mother raised him and his two younger brothers to be the first of a new generation of Ghouls, professional criminals that were successful. The trick was to take advantage of ones natural abilities without relying on them and make lots of money. Clyde specialized in safe cracking and break in's. When the mob wanted something stolen he was their man and if his payment included paying off a corner so he could feed they didn't ask questions.
Of course being able to change his face if he was ever caught, and learn by eating the dead with the necessary skills helped immensely but Clyde took it as point of professional pride that he had never had to use his powers to learn a safe's combination or break into some rich guys mansion.
The Reynolds Matriarch lives in wealth and decadence in a mansion paid for by the efforts of her children. Clyde with his Mob wokr, John and Pope working as smugglers. The clan rarely meet in person but thats just common sense in a world of hunters and bigger fish.
.
Age: 20
Appearance: That of the last meal.
History: The Reynolds clan of Ghouls were more forward thinking than most of their bloodline, why not use their Eve given gifts to move up in the world they thought, of course they had to satisfy the hunger and avoid the attention of hunters but such things were easier done with resources.
Clyde's mother raised him and his two younger brothers to be the first of a new generation of Ghouls, professional criminals that were successful. The trick was to take advantage of ones natural abilities without relying on them and make lots of money. Clyde specialized in safe cracking and break in's. When the mob wanted something stolen he was their man and if his payment included paying off a corner so he could feed they didn't ask questions.
Of course being able to change his face if he was ever caught, and learn by eating the dead with the necessary skills helped immensely but Clyde took it as point of professional pride that he had never had to use his powers to learn a safe's combination or break into some rich guys mansion.
The Reynolds Matriarch lives in wealth and decadence in a mansion paid for by the efforts of her children. Clyde with his Mob wokr, John and Pope working as smugglers. The clan rarely meet in person but thats just common sense in a world of hunters and bigger fish.
.
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Character Creation
Character Creation
Who does the story follow?
Submit/Vote for 1 design in each category. The character designs that receive the highest number of votes will be chosen to act as the Quest's central characters.
[] The Hunter:
The world is darker than most imagine, monsters out of myth and campfire story prey upon unsuspecting folk. You found out about the world under the surface and decided to do something about it.
You are a normal human who through intelligence, knowledge and the right tools tries to make the world a little safer. You are:
Name:
Description:
History:
[] The Fading Ghost
You died, and when the Reaper came to take your soul on to something different you said no. Now you're stuck on the mortal plane and slowly losing parts of yourself. Every day you are less.
Your presence is unseen, unheard and unfelt save for during moments of intense emotion or intense focus. You are:
Name:
Description:
History:
[] The Hungry Monster
You are not human, though you can pass for one, you are a killer by birth stronger and tougher than the humans that surround you. Your blood is the blood of Purgatory where the Old Ones prey upon each forever.
You have lived by the sidelines of the human world trying to avoid attention from those who would hunt you. You are:
Name:
Description:
Race (Choose One): Amazons , Ghouls, Djinn.
History:
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Enough to give an idea of the characters and their personalities but it doesn't have to be long.
- Location
- Mists of Albion
Ohohoho, we are gonna die!
[x] Plan: Catholic Killer
The Hunter:
Name: Alexander O'Morris
Description: Short, dirty blonde hair crowns your head like a filthy crown, you are a head taller then most and wide at the shoulders, broad they say, unyielding you prefer. Long unwieldy arms hang down from these shoulders, yet these arms move with deceptive quickness and often you find your fingers twitching of their own accord, almost trying to clench into fists, to drag you into a fight on their own. When combined with your small, ever shifting grey eyes some have called you deranged looking, in a handsome, attractive sort of way.
History: Your father was a proud catholic man, born and raised in Ireland, he fled with his Protestant English wife to America once the troubles began, unfortunately your mother died birthing you shortly afterwards, your father avoided hospitals after that and so did you, making him and you proficient in taking care of your own injuries.
He was a boxer and taught you the trade, unfortunately you took to fighting too well, on the streets of New York hardly any were better at breaking faces. You learned every fighting style you could, fought everyone who looked at you funny, you lived to beat face.
Yet when you needed that skill the most, it failed you.
Your father was eaten when you were 18, murdered by some monster. And it would've gotten you too, if it wasn't for the Hunter. He never gave you a name, or an explanation, or even a second glance. He gave you a book of monsters, a nod and he was gone.
You've tried to live up to that, that wandering warrior who lived to fight and save lives. At 23 you drive around the country, you're not helpless any longer, now when you fight, you kill, and afterwards you head down to the local bar and screw the hottest woman you can find in celebration.
The fighting is your lifeblood, but it's often too short, the sex is empty, and you often wonder what it's like to love someone, but it's your existence and your gonna make it count.
These monsters ain't gonna know what hit them.
How's this @toxinvictory?
I'll add in the other three once I get confirmation that this is the right kind of thing
[x] Plan: Catholic Killer
The Hunter:
Name: Alexander O'Morris
Description: Short, dirty blonde hair crowns your head like a filthy crown, you are a head taller then most and wide at the shoulders, broad they say, unyielding you prefer. Long unwieldy arms hang down from these shoulders, yet these arms move with deceptive quickness and often you find your fingers twitching of their own accord, almost trying to clench into fists, to drag you into a fight on their own. When combined with your small, ever shifting grey eyes some have called you deranged looking, in a handsome, attractive sort of way.
History: Your father was a proud catholic man, born and raised in Ireland, he fled with his Protestant English wife to America once the troubles began, unfortunately your mother died birthing you shortly afterwards, your father avoided hospitals after that and so did you, making him and you proficient in taking care of your own injuries.
He was a boxer and taught you the trade, unfortunately you took to fighting too well, on the streets of New York hardly any were better at breaking faces. You learned every fighting style you could, fought everyone who looked at you funny, you lived to beat face.
Yet when you needed that skill the most, it failed you.
Your father was eaten when you were 18, murdered by some monster. And it would've gotten you too, if it wasn't for the Hunter. He never gave you a name, or an explanation, or even a second glance. He gave you a book of monsters, a nod and he was gone.
You've tried to live up to that, that wandering warrior who lived to fight and save lives. At 23 you drive around the country, you're not helpless any longer, now when you fight, you kill, and afterwards you head down to the local bar and screw the hottest woman you can find in celebration.
The fighting is your lifeblood, but it's often too short, the sex is empty, and you often wonder what it's like to love someone, but it's your existence and your gonna make it count.
These monsters ain't gonna know what hit them.
How's this @toxinvictory?
I'll add in the other three once I get confirmation that this is the right kind of thing
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- Location
- Sweden
[x] Plan: Catholic Killer
Nice and the concepts sound, thank you for being the first to submit a plan. I look forward to seeing your take on the Ghost and monster slots.
- Location
- Mists of Albion
Part 2
@toxinvictory hope I didn't go overboard with this one, wanted something dark for the ghost story, even added some references to Frankenstein and the movie Ghost. Hope I didn't go to far.
@toxinvictory hope I didn't go overboard with this one, wanted something dark for the ghost story, even added some references to Frankenstein and the movie Ghost. Hope I didn't go to far.
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- Location
- Mists of Albion
[x] Plan: Catholic Killer
Cleaned up vote
The Hunter:
Name: Alexander O'Morris
Description: Short, dirty blonde hair crowns your head like a filthy crown, you are a head taller then most and wide at the shoulders, broad they say, unyielding you prefer. Long unwieldy arms hang down from these shoulders, yet these arms move with deceptive quickness and often you find your fingers twitching of their own accord, almost trying to clench into fists, to drag you into a fight on their own. When combined with your small, ever shifting grey eyes some have called you deranged looking, in a handsome, attractive sort of way.
History: Your father was a proud catholic man, born and raised in Ireland, he fled with his Protestant English wife to America once the troubles began, unfortunately your mother died birthing you shortly afterwards, your father avoided hospitals after that and so did you, making him and you proficient in taking care of your own injuries.
He was a boxer and taught you the trade, unfortunately you took to fighting too well, on the streets of New York hardly any were better at breaking faces. You learned every fighting style you could, fought everyone who looked at you funny, you lived to beat face.
Yet when you needed that skill the most, it failed you.
Your father was eaten when you were 18, murdered by some monster. And it would've gotten you too, if it wasn't for the Hunter. He never gave you a name, or an explanation, or even a second glance. He gave you a book of monsters, a nod and he was gone.
You've tried to live up to that, that wandering warrior who lived to fight and save lives. At 23 you drive around the country, you're not helpless any longer, now when you fight, you kill, and afterwards you head down to the local bar and screw the hottest woman you can find in celebration.
The fighting is your lifeblood, but it's often too short, the sex is empty, and you often wonder what it's like to love someone, but it's your existence and your gonna make it count.
These monsters ain't gonna know what hit them.
Name: Alexander O'Morris
Description: Short, dirty blonde hair crowns your head like a filthy crown, you are a head taller then most and wide at the shoulders, broad they say, unyielding you prefer. Long unwieldy arms hang down from these shoulders, yet these arms move with deceptive quickness and often you find your fingers twitching of their own accord, almost trying to clench into fists, to drag you into a fight on their own. When combined with your small, ever shifting grey eyes some have called you deranged looking, in a handsome, attractive sort of way.
History: Your father was a proud catholic man, born and raised in Ireland, he fled with his Protestant English wife to America once the troubles began, unfortunately your mother died birthing you shortly afterwards, your father avoided hospitals after that and so did you, making him and you proficient in taking care of your own injuries.
He was a boxer and taught you the trade, unfortunately you took to fighting too well, on the streets of New York hardly any were better at breaking faces. You learned every fighting style you could, fought everyone who looked at you funny, you lived to beat face.
Yet when you needed that skill the most, it failed you.
Your father was eaten when you were 18, murdered by some monster. And it would've gotten you too, if it wasn't for the Hunter. He never gave you a name, or an explanation, or even a second glance. He gave you a book of monsters, a nod and he was gone.
You've tried to live up to that, that wandering warrior who lived to fight and save lives. At 23 you drive around the country, you're not helpless any longer, now when you fight, you kill, and afterwards you head down to the local bar and screw the hottest woman you can find in celebration.
The fighting is your lifeblood, but it's often too short, the sex is empty, and you often wonder what it's like to love someone, but it's your existence and your gonna make it count.
These monsters ain't gonna know what hit them.
The Ghost:
Name: Shelly Graves
Description: Your long red hair was once a source of pride for you, when you walked into a room everybody saw it, it was beautiful bright, so unlike yourself. It's dull, almost like faded blood now, chunks of it are missing from where he held you down as you struggled whilst he-
Your skin was always pale, but now it's paler, you almost don't mind it, but the marks from his hands are still there, big red bruises around your arms, wrists and neck. They don't go away, big and dark and there. Always there.
The only part of you that doesn't sicken you is your eyes, deep and blue, calm, you could drown in them, and you know that drowning isn't so bad, after the initial struggle. He killed you once he was done, that was the easy part after what had happened, the drowning was almost peaceful.
Is it wrong that it almost comforting to be reminded how you died?
History: You had a temper as a young girl, a real big one. The youngest of five sisters you had to be loud to be noticed, it was the only way. You weren't smart, overly pretty (at least in your opinion) nor were you overly sporty.
Mom and Dad were professional businesspeople though, they lived for their work, they couldn't have an unruly child. The punishments were enough, you had wanted attention as a child but not like this, you hadn't wanted the disdainful gazes or the quietly angry lectures.
You resigned yourself to your slot in life by age 11. You learned techniques to steady your heart, to focus, you abandoned your angry persona and became withdrawn, you had just wanted attention once, you still did, but it wasn't worth it and so you became a introvert.
Life was hard, depression was a near constant, several times you once considered trying to drown yourself in the bathtub, an irony considering how you died.
At 17 you met Sam Wheat.
You were in love by the end of the month. It didn't matter that he was ten years older.
He lavished you with attention and for that you would do anything for him, you drank the alcohol he gave you, you smoked the weed, and when he said to sniff the crack, you did.
By 19 you were his, your family had thrown you out after finding out about your addiction, so you lived with him in a shitty old house at the edge of town.
It's why you couldn't run from the beatings.
It's why you couldn't drag yourself out of the hole you had allowed him to dig for you.
It's why you had to walk the streets at night in a skimpy dress with a smile.
By 20 you met Donald. He was your 61st customer, your pimp (because that's what he was by now) Sam gave you to him for triple the price he usually did.
You hadn't cared at the time, you were just waiting for your next sniff.
You were raped and drowned by Donald that night.
You had thought you knew pain, but you hadn't. Donald taught you pain. Then he gave you peace.
You had waned to drown yourself as a younger girl. Wished you had the courage, in a way, the monster gave you your wish.
Now you walk a ghost. Looking for something, you don't know what it is yet, but you will find it, vengeance, peace, a way to wipe away the hatred you feel for yourself. You will find it.
You will be free.
Name: Shelly Graves
Description: Your long red hair was once a source of pride for you, when you walked into a room everybody saw it, it was beautiful bright, so unlike yourself. It's dull, almost like faded blood now, chunks of it are missing from where he held you down as you struggled whilst he-
Your skin was always pale, but now it's paler, you almost don't mind it, but the marks from his hands are still there, big red bruises around your arms, wrists and neck. They don't go away, big and dark and there. Always there.
The only part of you that doesn't sicken you is your eyes, deep and blue, calm, you could drown in them, and you know that drowning isn't so bad, after the initial struggle. He killed you once he was done, that was the easy part after what had happened, the drowning was almost peaceful.
Is it wrong that it almost comforting to be reminded how you died?
History: You had a temper as a young girl, a real big one. The youngest of five sisters you had to be loud to be noticed, it was the only way. You weren't smart, overly pretty (at least in your opinion) nor were you overly sporty.
Mom and Dad were professional businesspeople though, they lived for their work, they couldn't have an unruly child. The punishments were enough, you had wanted attention as a child but not like this, you hadn't wanted the disdainful gazes or the quietly angry lectures.
You resigned yourself to your slot in life by age 11. You learned techniques to steady your heart, to focus, you abandoned your angry persona and became withdrawn, you had just wanted attention once, you still did, but it wasn't worth it and so you became a introvert.
Life was hard, depression was a near constant, several times you once considered trying to drown yourself in the bathtub, an irony considering how you died.
At 17 you met Sam Wheat.
You were in love by the end of the month. It didn't matter that he was ten years older.
He lavished you with attention and for that you would do anything for him, you drank the alcohol he gave you, you smoked the weed, and when he said to sniff the crack, you did.
By 19 you were his, your family had thrown you out after finding out about your addiction, so you lived with him in a shitty old house at the edge of town.
It's why you couldn't run from the beatings.
It's why you couldn't drag yourself out of the hole you had allowed him to dig for you.
It's why you had to walk the streets at night in a skimpy dress with a smile.
By 20 you met Donald. He was your 61st customer, your pimp (because that's what he was by now) Sam gave you to him for triple the price he usually did.
You hadn't cared at the time, you were just waiting for your next sniff.
You were raped and drowned by Donald that night.
You had thought you knew pain, but you hadn't. Donald taught you pain. Then he gave you peace.
You had waned to drown yourself as a younger girl. Wished you had the courage, in a way, the monster gave you your wish.
Now you walk a ghost. Looking for something, you don't know what it is yet, but you will find it, vengeance, peace, a way to wipe away the hatred you feel for yourself. You will find it.
You will be free.
The Hungry Monster: - Ghoul
Name: Clyde Reynolds
Appearance: You really don't remember your original form.
You've lived your life as a criminal, as your mother was, as your brothers are. You have taken any form you needed for your job and then moved on. Changing shape to avoid a pattern from being discovered by hunters or law enforces. You prefer younger male forms however, you being a boy of 19. Preferably someone with style. The ladies can't be kept waiting forever after all!
History: Most monsters are stupid. Real fuckin' stupid. Like Jesus H. Christ stupid!!!
They spend all this time attacking people and trying to avoid detection. Why? Why do that when you can use your shit to your advantage!
At least that's what your Momma thought down when you were young, only 4, in Mississippi.
She is a tough woman, your Momma.
She traveled to every town in the county where something was worth a dime. Then used her powers to take on a new shape and rob them all blind!!!
If the teller won't give you information during a heist? Kill the idiot and eat him. Take his memory and his face!
Momma raised you and your two younger brothers to know your way around guns, knives, swords, bows and anything that can kill someone or help in a heist. She taught herself all those things as well. She is a real smart woman, your Momma.
You ain't gonna lie, it's hard bankrobbing across the bible belt since you could properly hold and aim a gun (9 if you're wondering). But you would do it all again if you had to, if Momma asked.
Hell you even kind of like it!
You are the one Momma looks at to plan the jobs nowadays, you are the smart one, the strong one, the man of the house, your brothers, the twins, John and Pope follow your orders, they trust you, 16 years old and they'd go to war for you if you asked.
So your gonna take care of your family the way Momma took care of you, the way your Poppa didn't (he got his weak ass wasted by hunters). Fuck the rest of the world, Eve, Hunters or even other monsters, your family is all.
And you will burn the world down for them if you have to.
Name: Clyde Reynolds
Appearance: You really don't remember your original form.
You've lived your life as a criminal, as your mother was, as your brothers are. You have taken any form you needed for your job and then moved on. Changing shape to avoid a pattern from being discovered by hunters or law enforces. You prefer younger male forms however, you being a boy of 19. Preferably someone with style. The ladies can't be kept waiting forever after all!
History: Most monsters are stupid. Real fuckin' stupid. Like Jesus H. Christ stupid!!!
They spend all this time attacking people and trying to avoid detection. Why? Why do that when you can use your shit to your advantage!
At least that's what your Momma thought down when you were young, only 4, in Mississippi.
She is a tough woman, your Momma.
She traveled to every town in the county where something was worth a dime. Then used her powers to take on a new shape and rob them all blind!!!
If the teller won't give you information during a heist? Kill the idiot and eat him. Take his memory and his face!
Momma raised you and your two younger brothers to know your way around guns, knives, swords, bows and anything that can kill someone or help in a heist. She taught herself all those things as well. She is a real smart woman, your Momma.
You ain't gonna lie, it's hard bankrobbing across the bible belt since you could properly hold and aim a gun (9 if you're wondering). But you would do it all again if you had to, if Momma asked.
Hell you even kind of like it!
You are the one Momma looks at to plan the jobs nowadays, you are the smart one, the strong one, the man of the house, your brothers, the twins, John and Pope follow your orders, they trust you, 16 years old and they'd go to war for you if you asked.
So your gonna take care of your family the way Momma took care of you, the way your Poppa didn't (he got his weak ass wasted by hunters). Fuck the rest of the world, Eve, Hunters or even other monsters, your family is all.
And you will burn the world down for them if you have to.
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Nice characters concepts, may have to make some changes if they get chosen but overall very nice work.
Rules, Explanations and the Chronic Conditions of Nonhuman PC's
So while I wait for more people to post their own player character designs or vote for existing ones let me explain the base rules of game.
You (ie the voters) submit plans to direct the actions of the three protagonists as they grow and develop in the Death World that is Supernatural. The outcome of the individual actions is decided by dice roll. As you level up your characters you gain Experience and this increases the dice bonus relative to specific actions.
So if you choose to have your characters spend x amount of time studying say medicine then the dice they will have access to when they try to do a medical procedure will be higher than it would be if they hadn't studied medicine.
That said their are limits to how much a given individual can improve. For instance the Human PC will not be able to exceed the brute strength or speed of a Demon or Angel no matter how much they work out, barring enhancement magic. When characters are wounded they take damage which translates to a penalty in regards to dice actions and cuts into Health, if a players health is depelted enough they die.
The Ghost PC will have to worry about Spiritual Decay, as per Supernatural Canon Ghosts slowly deteriorate losing identity, memory and emotional range. This can lead to a spirit Going Vengeful, a deeply unpleasant process where a intense negative emotion becomes the Spirits central existence causing them to fixate on this feeling and act purely from it.
Ways to counteract Spiritual Decay will be presented in game but Spiritual Decay is a inherent condition to being a Ghost in setting and will not go away unless the Ghost PC changes their fundamental nature by say becoming a Demon or being resurrected.
The Monster PC has to deal with their own equivalent to Spiritual Decay as in a chronic condition that must be managed by Players. This is their Urge, their legacy from the Leviathan. All monstrous characters in setting have a Urge because they all come from the Leviathan, the manifestation of which depends on their species. So Djinn thirst for human blood, Ghouls feed on human flesh and Amazons are compelled to act in line with their gods ideals.
Resisting the Urge requires a willpower check/dice roll and each time the Urge is denied outright the dice roll required to resist it increases. Failing a Urge resist roll means the Monster PC is driven to immediately act to satisfy their Urge regardless of consequences which tends to leave lots of people dead. Players interested in playing a friendly non killer Monster can have their character sate their Urge via creative means.
If anyone has any questions I will be happy to answer them.
You (ie the voters) submit plans to direct the actions of the three protagonists as they grow and develop in the Death World that is Supernatural. The outcome of the individual actions is decided by dice roll. As you level up your characters you gain Experience and this increases the dice bonus relative to specific actions.
So if you choose to have your characters spend x amount of time studying say medicine then the dice they will have access to when they try to do a medical procedure will be higher than it would be if they hadn't studied medicine.
That said their are limits to how much a given individual can improve. For instance the Human PC will not be able to exceed the brute strength or speed of a Demon or Angel no matter how much they work out, barring enhancement magic. When characters are wounded they take damage which translates to a penalty in regards to dice actions and cuts into Health, if a players health is depelted enough they die.
The Ghost PC will have to worry about Spiritual Decay, as per Supernatural Canon Ghosts slowly deteriorate losing identity, memory and emotional range. This can lead to a spirit Going Vengeful, a deeply unpleasant process where a intense negative emotion becomes the Spirits central existence causing them to fixate on this feeling and act purely from it.
Ways to counteract Spiritual Decay will be presented in game but Spiritual Decay is a inherent condition to being a Ghost in setting and will not go away unless the Ghost PC changes their fundamental nature by say becoming a Demon or being resurrected.
The Monster PC has to deal with their own equivalent to Spiritual Decay as in a chronic condition that must be managed by Players. This is their Urge, their legacy from the Leviathan. All monstrous characters in setting have a Urge because they all come from the Leviathan, the manifestation of which depends on their species. So Djinn thirst for human blood, Ghouls feed on human flesh and Amazons are compelled to act in line with their gods ideals.
Resisting the Urge requires a willpower check/dice roll and each time the Urge is denied outright the dice roll required to resist it increases. Failing a Urge resist roll means the Monster PC is driven to immediately act to satisfy their Urge regardless of consequences which tends to leave lots of people dead. Players interested in playing a friendly non killer Monster can have their character sate their Urge via creative means.
If anyone has any questions I will be happy to answer them.
Demon, Leviathan and Angel
Apart from the baseline humans, Ghosts and Mosnters that populate the setting there are three driving races the Demon, the Leviathan and the Angel.
First up is Demons, they are human spirits that have been permanently changed/empowered at the cost of becoming corrupted and malevolent. The most common beginning for a demon is that of a soul dammed to Hell (either by sufficient evil action or by making a bargain with a Demon) where via torture and spiritual pollution by the essence of Hell they are transformed into a Demon. Other ways to become a Demon exist though they are rarer.
Demons are in regards to dice and abilities essentially abnormally powerful Ghosts who do not have to worry about Spiritual Decay while active on the Mortal Plane. However their are some differences from baseline spirits, Demons are inherently parasitic requiring to possess a human host to make their will known on the Mortal plane in contrast to Ghosts who can communicate and manifest without a physical body. Their are many types and categories of demons.
Next are the Leviathans, the Oldest of the Old, the First Beasts. The Leviathan are primordial lifeforms that are nigh invulnerable and highly versatile. They are also insatiable, hyper aggressive carnivores that see anything and everything as food and are alarmingly intelligent. They are (or were) locked away from the rest of creation in the place known as Purgatory where they endlessly preyed upon each other.
At the dawn of human history a lone Leviathan found its way to Earth and bred with certain humans creating the various bloodlines of monster's. All monsters that walk the Earth are descended from the Leviathan's and when they die their souls rather that ascending to Heaven or falling into Hell go to Purgatory. Leviathans are to normal monsters what monsters are to humans.
Lastly are the Angels, they are the agents of Heaven, beings forged of Divine Energy and in essence the Children of God, albeit far weaker than their all powerful father. Angels are capable of numerous feats ranging from teleportation across continents to fine tune bio alteration. The true form of Angels are titanic things of Light and fire, taller than buildings with voices louder than than thunder, utterly alien to human ideals of form and life. For one not of the correct bloodline to look upon the true form of a Angel is to have the eyes burned from their head.
Angels acting out of a desire to avoid the complete collapse of human society take mortal vessels to operate on the Mortal Plane, but unlike Demons are perfectly capable to acting without a human body if they so desire. Their are many orders and kinds of Angel.
Sidenote: In this take on the setting, Amazons are descended from the Leviathan same as all the other monsters. Ares and Harmonia were creatures of Purgatory that reached Earth and ruled as gods. They agreed to transform the Amazons for much the same reasons that Eve made the other bloodlines.
If you have questions please ask and I will try to answer.
First up is Demons, they are human spirits that have been permanently changed/empowered at the cost of becoming corrupted and malevolent. The most common beginning for a demon is that of a soul dammed to Hell (either by sufficient evil action or by making a bargain with a Demon) where via torture and spiritual pollution by the essence of Hell they are transformed into a Demon. Other ways to become a Demon exist though they are rarer.
Demons are in regards to dice and abilities essentially abnormally powerful Ghosts who do not have to worry about Spiritual Decay while active on the Mortal Plane. However their are some differences from baseline spirits, Demons are inherently parasitic requiring to possess a human host to make their will known on the Mortal plane in contrast to Ghosts who can communicate and manifest without a physical body. Their are many types and categories of demons.
Next are the Leviathans, the Oldest of the Old, the First Beasts. The Leviathan are primordial lifeforms that are nigh invulnerable and highly versatile. They are also insatiable, hyper aggressive carnivores that see anything and everything as food and are alarmingly intelligent. They are (or were) locked away from the rest of creation in the place known as Purgatory where they endlessly preyed upon each other.
At the dawn of human history a lone Leviathan found its way to Earth and bred with certain humans creating the various bloodlines of monster's. All monsters that walk the Earth are descended from the Leviathan's and when they die their souls rather that ascending to Heaven or falling into Hell go to Purgatory. Leviathans are to normal monsters what monsters are to humans.
Lastly are the Angels, they are the agents of Heaven, beings forged of Divine Energy and in essence the Children of God, albeit far weaker than their all powerful father. Angels are capable of numerous feats ranging from teleportation across continents to fine tune bio alteration. The true form of Angels are titanic things of Light and fire, taller than buildings with voices louder than than thunder, utterly alien to human ideals of form and life. For one not of the correct bloodline to look upon the true form of a Angel is to have the eyes burned from their head.
Angels acting out of a desire to avoid the complete collapse of human society take mortal vessels to operate on the Mortal Plane, but unlike Demons are perfectly capable to acting without a human body if they so desire. Their are many orders and kinds of Angel.
Sidenote: In this take on the setting, Amazons are descended from the Leviathan same as all the other monsters. Ares and Harmonia were creatures of Purgatory that reached Earth and ruled as gods. They agreed to transform the Amazons for much the same reasons that Eve made the other bloodlines.
If you have questions please ask and I will try to answer.
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You really don't need setting knowledge for the game as I will reveal how things work over the course of the Quest.
Happy to have another person interested in this.
Alright, got a Djinn idea, gonna see how well I can do that kind of monster as a main character.
[x] Plan: Monkey's Palm
[X] The Hungry Monster - Djinn
Name: Al-Wahhab
Description: Like all traditional Djinn, you are deathly pale with a series of tattoos on your bald head and down your back. Normally your skin would betray your nature to others and make you a massive target to hunters, unable to change it like the Djinn that feed on fear, but unlike most of your people you often hide most of your tattoos with some form of hat and your skin tone with heavy makeup to pass as a relatively normal tanned Caucasian person. From your face you'd appear to be in your late thirties or early forties, but your body is heavily muscled like a man in his prime. When not glowing as a result of your powers your eyes are brown.
History: For centuries, you lived as most Djinn do, hiding out in abandoned ruins across the globe and preying on any foolish or desperate enough to seek their fantasies made to life, moving shop after every couple humans came to your home. Sometimes you pitied them, so easily trusting of legends, other times you envied them, being able to live the rest of their life blissfully unaware of their true fate while you continued to live a modest life.
This was until a hunter managed to finally track you down in an abandoned California ghost town, and acted as if they were another of the people seeking wishes. You came to them, as you do with all prey, and made to let them live out their fantasies, but it was a trick. Before you could use your venom, they lashed out with a knife coated in blood, the first time you were ever truly hurt. The sheer shock of being assaulted let the hunter give you much more harm than you'd normally let happen, and it was only after an intense struggle than you overpowered the hunter and put them in a fantasy world. This was still a needed lesson in humility, that you cannot be so trusting of any that come to you. Luckily you had a way to test how to proceed into the new world with this hunter.
Using them, you learned how to blend in easily into the modern world, and no longer live like a spider in a web waiting for straggler bugs to come by. Using the few resources the hunter had on them, fake credit cards, car, and clothing, you went between towns, finding all the resources to make yourself appear as a true human. You eventually settled near a beach town, selling your services as a hypnotist that let people temporarily live out their wildest fantasies for just a nominal fee and secretly taking some blood. Normally such a small quantity of blood would never be enough to sustain you, but by having so many customers happy to experience anything they can imagine you get enough to live by and make enough cash to continue the charade of being a normal human. You have encountered hunters again since that day, but thankfully you were able to pass yourself as a human psychic to avoid any unnecessary conflict.
Now, with what many people claim is Judgement day, you have more customers than ever seeking a reprieve from the worries of the real world, but this does little to comfort you for what could potentially be next.
[X] The Hungry Monster - Djinn
Name: Al-Wahhab
Description: Like all traditional Djinn, you are deathly pale with a series of tattoos on your bald head and down your back. Normally your skin would betray your nature to others and make you a massive target to hunters, unable to change it like the Djinn that feed on fear, but unlike most of your people you often hide most of your tattoos with some form of hat and your skin tone with heavy makeup to pass as a relatively normal tanned Caucasian person. From your face you'd appear to be in your late thirties or early forties, but your body is heavily muscled like a man in his prime. When not glowing as a result of your powers your eyes are brown.
History: For centuries, you lived as most Djinn do, hiding out in abandoned ruins across the globe and preying on any foolish or desperate enough to seek their fantasies made to life, moving shop after every couple humans came to your home. Sometimes you pitied them, so easily trusting of legends, other times you envied them, being able to live the rest of their life blissfully unaware of their true fate while you continued to live a modest life.
This was until a hunter managed to finally track you down in an abandoned California ghost town, and acted as if they were another of the people seeking wishes. You came to them, as you do with all prey, and made to let them live out their fantasies, but it was a trick. Before you could use your venom, they lashed out with a knife coated in blood, the first time you were ever truly hurt. The sheer shock of being assaulted let the hunter give you much more harm than you'd normally let happen, and it was only after an intense struggle than you overpowered the hunter and put them in a fantasy world. This was still a needed lesson in humility, that you cannot be so trusting of any that come to you. Luckily you had a way to test how to proceed into the new world with this hunter.
Using them, you learned how to blend in easily into the modern world, and no longer live like a spider in a web waiting for straggler bugs to come by. Using the few resources the hunter had on them, fake credit cards, car, and clothing, you went between towns, finding all the resources to make yourself appear as a true human. You eventually settled near a beach town, selling your services as a hypnotist that let people temporarily live out their wildest fantasies for just a nominal fee and secretly taking some blood. Normally such a small quantity of blood would never be enough to sustain you, but by having so many customers happy to experience anything they can imagine you get enough to live by and make enough cash to continue the charade of being a normal human. You have encountered hunters again since that day, but thankfully you were able to pass yourself as a human psychic to avoid any unnecessary conflict.
Now, with what many people claim is Judgement day, you have more customers than ever seeking a reprieve from the worries of the real world, but this does little to comfort you for what could potentially be next.
Well since this is the only option that was voted for by anyone, and apparently no more voters are coming in then this is the vote that gets chosen.
Some minor changes to the character histories will be made but basic premise of each character should remain intact.
So here commences the adventures of the trigger happy boxer's son turned hunter, the messed up ghost of a murdered prostitute and a bank robbing Ghoul.
I will hopefully have an update posted later today.
- Location
- Mists of Albion
This should be interesting...
Character list is up, some alterations made to backstories.
(Alexander's father was effected by the Leviathan food drug and the story starts form a point where he's just settling into the hunter life.)
(Sherry's seduction by Samson involves less drugs and beatings and she's in a slightly better head space, she's still pretty messed up,)
(Clyde is more a independent contractor for the Mob than spree bank robber and the Ghoul clan are less inter-connected.)
Update later today.
(Alexander's father was effected by the Leviathan food drug and the story starts form a point where he's just settling into the hunter life.)
(Sherry's seduction by Samson involves less drugs and beatings and she's in a slightly better head space, she's still pretty messed up,)
(Clyde is more a independent contractor for the Mob than spree bank robber and the Ghoul clan are less inter-connected.)
Update later today.
A New Dawn, A New Day (Opening Arc)
Alexander O Morris woke to the sound of dogs baying, rolled over and pulled the covers over his head in an attempt to avoid the awful noise. Sadly it wouldn't go away.
With a groan he got out of his makeshift bed and checked the caravan's cupboard, grumbling over the lack of variety he emptied some cereal into a bowl and started his day.
He was parked in a caravan/camping ground, his setup allowing him easy access to the various hidden weapons secreted throughout his living space and guaranteeing that no one would be monitoring him.
He was in Portland Oregon because a week ago something large and clawed had ripped its way into a local church and burned down the place killing a dozen people. Whatever it was it clearly wasn't done, as a weak later a bunch of teenagers out for a party had turned up dead, their bodies burned so badly identification of individuals was proving difficult.
The authorities were in uproar and the hunting community had mobilized, whatever was doing this didn't match any of the more common breeds of monster and in this business unknown equaled bad, Alexander was one of a Hunter group that were in the city looking into whatever was doing the killing.
If he was honest with himself he probably shouldn't be here, the other hunters were veteran's and he was if not a newby then he was hardly in the same league, but their had been nothing but ominous and more ominous stuff to brood over and he needed a case. Ever since the sky all over the world was filled with falling lights people had been vanishing without cause and no one in the Hunter Community had the slightest idea what was going on.
Now he had a bunch of option:s he could try to get a look at the crime scenes and draw his own conclusions about whatever monster was responsible, he could try to hook up with one of the other hunters, he could hit up a library/internet cafe and research or he could do something else.
Hell maybe he could leave the matter to the older hunters and go do something fun, see a movie, hit up a gym. It was his choice.
What did he do?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shelly Graves sat by the riverside and listened to the water gurgle, the birds cry and the world move on without her. She was not glanced at by cyclist, joggers, sight see-ers and dog walkers that used the riverside path.
She cast no shadow, left no mark on grass or ground, after all she was dead and had been for a few days now. Her body or what was left of it lay at the bottom of the river food for fishes and fungi.
Shelly had no idea what to do now, for years her life had been a slow grind of misery, trapped in role she hated but unable to leave. Samson's girl, the one with the red hair and piercing blue eyes, the best in the Brothel that was her. She had quietly loathed every second of it, being property in all but name and now she was free of it.
Well free in the specific sense, she could feel her body on the river floor, the same way a compass could feel north. She had tried to get away from the river altogether and found herself weakening with every step. She had turned back and here she was.
She didn't feel hungry but could imagine eating, didn't feel tired but could imagine sleeping here under the warm sun. She had tried to communicate with the living people around her but no one heard her or reacted to her touch. She had yet been able to move any physical object.
The woman in black with eyes that saw right through every mask and deception had stood with Shelly as Sanson had dropped her body in a barrel into the river. She had looked at Shelly and offered her a choice: stay here or move onto what came next. Shelly had chosen to stay, mostly out of fear of whatever unknown fate awaited her beyond.
Sanson would be back at the club, her death nothing more than another dirty secret to be kept by a man who had so many. Her family would never find out what had happened to her after the last she had seen them had been years ago when she ran off with the boy she thought was her one true love.
Shelly looked down at herself and winced at her appearance, ignoring the ugly bruises and too pale skin she was in the fetish Gothic get up the client (her Murderer) had asked for: corset and mini-dress with lacy ruffles, she looked like a rather creepy and vaguely indecent doll expanded to person size.
She looked out to the river. People were fishing in a small boat and part of her wanted to laugh hysterically, Don't put your line down there boys you might snag the dead working girl.
What did she do now?
===================================================================================================================
Clyde Reynolds was hungry, it was a dark deep hunger that twisted the guts and set the teeth on edge and made his temper fray. He had been in this rat warren of a city the humans called New York for weeks now and his temper was starting to fray.
Oh the Mob were sorry about the inconvenience, they had big plans for him etc etc. Time was money and Clyde had in his opinion wasted quite enough of it. His employer wanted a heist of a rivals private vault but was busy negotiating with said rival and it just might turn out that robbery wouldn't be required to get the point across.
But because the matter was up in the air he was stuck here in a city of deeming mortals that would taste so lovely but unreachable. Eating live was frowned upon in Ghoul Society, dead and dead a while was better and in place like this going on a binge could bring hunters down on him. He had heard rumors that the Bloody Winchesters were in the city and he wanted none of that kind of attention.
No far better to gorge himself on the Mob provided visits to the city morgue. His current face, a dentist with three kids: Maxine and Angelo- Stop it, was an older male with green eyes and black hair, a bit on the pudgy side for Clyde's taste as he preferred to take the shape of and consume the flesh of the fit and active but otherwise suitable.
John and Pope like bodies that were overdeveloped in muscle, body builders and big hulking men good for intimating officials. Personally Clyde thought they were trying to hard. They should try and imitate mother who only wore tasteful bodies, never a true beauty to turn heads but never a ugly sort just the right middle ground to be able to move quickly if a Hunter showed up and be comfortable in for day to day use.
He was in the passable apartment the mob had provided him with the passable bodyguards the Mob had assigned him waiting outside. Plasma screen massive tv set into a wall, keys to a well price car in his pocket and money to spend.
What did he do now?
With a groan he got out of his makeshift bed and checked the caravan's cupboard, grumbling over the lack of variety he emptied some cereal into a bowl and started his day.
He was parked in a caravan/camping ground, his setup allowing him easy access to the various hidden weapons secreted throughout his living space and guaranteeing that no one would be monitoring him.
He was in Portland Oregon because a week ago something large and clawed had ripped its way into a local church and burned down the place killing a dozen people. Whatever it was it clearly wasn't done, as a weak later a bunch of teenagers out for a party had turned up dead, their bodies burned so badly identification of individuals was proving difficult.
The authorities were in uproar and the hunting community had mobilized, whatever was doing this didn't match any of the more common breeds of monster and in this business unknown equaled bad, Alexander was one of a Hunter group that were in the city looking into whatever was doing the killing.
If he was honest with himself he probably shouldn't be here, the other hunters were veteran's and he was if not a newby then he was hardly in the same league, but their had been nothing but ominous and more ominous stuff to brood over and he needed a case. Ever since the sky all over the world was filled with falling lights people had been vanishing without cause and no one in the Hunter Community had the slightest idea what was going on.
Now he had a bunch of option:s he could try to get a look at the crime scenes and draw his own conclusions about whatever monster was responsible, he could try to hook up with one of the other hunters, he could hit up a library/internet cafe and research or he could do something else.
Hell maybe he could leave the matter to the older hunters and go do something fun, see a movie, hit up a gym. It was his choice.
What did he do?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shelly Graves sat by the riverside and listened to the water gurgle, the birds cry and the world move on without her. She was not glanced at by cyclist, joggers, sight see-ers and dog walkers that used the riverside path.
She cast no shadow, left no mark on grass or ground, after all she was dead and had been for a few days now. Her body or what was left of it lay at the bottom of the river food for fishes and fungi.
Shelly had no idea what to do now, for years her life had been a slow grind of misery, trapped in role she hated but unable to leave. Samson's girl, the one with the red hair and piercing blue eyes, the best in the Brothel that was her. She had quietly loathed every second of it, being property in all but name and now she was free of it.
Well free in the specific sense, she could feel her body on the river floor, the same way a compass could feel north. She had tried to get away from the river altogether and found herself weakening with every step. She had turned back and here she was.
She didn't feel hungry but could imagine eating, didn't feel tired but could imagine sleeping here under the warm sun. She had tried to communicate with the living people around her but no one heard her or reacted to her touch. She had yet been able to move any physical object.
The woman in black with eyes that saw right through every mask and deception had stood with Shelly as Sanson had dropped her body in a barrel into the river. She had looked at Shelly and offered her a choice: stay here or move onto what came next. Shelly had chosen to stay, mostly out of fear of whatever unknown fate awaited her beyond.
Sanson would be back at the club, her death nothing more than another dirty secret to be kept by a man who had so many. Her family would never find out what had happened to her after the last she had seen them had been years ago when she ran off with the boy she thought was her one true love.
Shelly looked down at herself and winced at her appearance, ignoring the ugly bruises and too pale skin she was in the fetish Gothic get up the client (her Murderer) had asked for: corset and mini-dress with lacy ruffles, she looked like a rather creepy and vaguely indecent doll expanded to person size.
She looked out to the river. People were fishing in a small boat and part of her wanted to laugh hysterically, Don't put your line down there boys you might snag the dead working girl.
What did she do now?
===================================================================================================================
Clyde Reynolds was hungry, it was a dark deep hunger that twisted the guts and set the teeth on edge and made his temper fray. He had been in this rat warren of a city the humans called New York for weeks now and his temper was starting to fray.
Oh the Mob were sorry about the inconvenience, they had big plans for him etc etc. Time was money and Clyde had in his opinion wasted quite enough of it. His employer wanted a heist of a rivals private vault but was busy negotiating with said rival and it just might turn out that robbery wouldn't be required to get the point across.
But because the matter was up in the air he was stuck here in a city of deeming mortals that would taste so lovely but unreachable. Eating live was frowned upon in Ghoul Society, dead and dead a while was better and in place like this going on a binge could bring hunters down on him. He had heard rumors that the Bloody Winchesters were in the city and he wanted none of that kind of attention.
No far better to gorge himself on the Mob provided visits to the city morgue. His current face, a dentist with three kids: Maxine and Angelo- Stop it, was an older male with green eyes and black hair, a bit on the pudgy side for Clyde's taste as he preferred to take the shape of and consume the flesh of the fit and active but otherwise suitable.
John and Pope like bodies that were overdeveloped in muscle, body builders and big hulking men good for intimating officials. Personally Clyde thought they were trying to hard. They should try and imitate mother who only wore tasteful bodies, never a true beauty to turn heads but never a ugly sort just the right middle ground to be able to move quickly if a Hunter showed up and be comfortable in for day to day use.
He was in the passable apartment the mob had provided him with the passable bodyguards the Mob had assigned him waiting outside. Plasma screen massive tv set into a wall, keys to a well price car in his pocket and money to spend.
What did he do now?
Please submit plans for each character to follow. I will add stats to the character sheets at the end of the Opening Arc.
Plans should follow a clear format of for example:
[X] Plan: Campfire
-[X] Build a fire
--[X] Making sure to hide the smoke.
-[X] Build a shelter
--[X] Take the time to make sure the area is secure.
Plans should follow a clear format of for example:
[X] Plan: Campfire
-[X] Build a fire
--[X] Making sure to hide the smoke.
-[X] Build a shelter
--[X] Take the time to make sure the area is secure.
- Location
- Mists of Albion
[x] Plan: Basics
-[x] Alexander will try to sneak onto the crime scene tonight, try and figure out what monster did this.
-[x] Shelly will try to move things even more, calm herself down and try it again and again.
-[x] Clyde will scout out the mark, do research and prepare for the signal to be given, ask Pope to find out where the Winchesters are, don't interact with them or nothing, just find out where they are at the moment.
-[x] Alexander will try to sneak onto the crime scene tonight, try and figure out what monster did this.
-[x] Shelly will try to move things even more, calm herself down and try it again and again.
-[x] Clyde will scout out the mark, do research and prepare for the signal to be given, ask Pope to find out where the Winchesters are, don't interact with them or nothing, just find out where they are at the moment.
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