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Gates

Discussion in 'General Role Play' started by LaenVulpix, Sep 12, 2007.

  1. In the early, hueless dawn of the winter morning, the sky outside Leland's window was black enough to make him wonder if the soft blips of light flickering on, off, on, off, on his bedside table were false. If, perhaps, during some late hour his clock's Matrix-green digits hadn't twitched themselves ahead. The curtains were not drawn, not since he had developed the inconvenient tendency to drowse easily past the blaring noise of his alarm, and yet the night seemed to still be holding the world in the palm of its hand. Bird calls were far off and seldom, as if they, too, were left wondering if their internal clocks had made some sort of mistake; crickets chirped contently from the nether regions below his second-floor windowsill. Leland's wooden floorboards were next-to invisible under the combined blurred quality of his vision and the lack of efficient lighting, his furniture enveloped altogether by darkness.

    Hunched over in visible...or invisible, rather...weariness, a scrawny outline shoved away the provocative warmth of his comforter and sheets. His eyes were half-lidded, the dregs of sleep oozing away with deliberate slowness, and his clock, equipped with its unceremonious, blaring alarm, continued to cry out. With all his heart and easily-irritated, groggy excuse for a mind, the boy wished the thing would shut the hell up while he gathered his awry thoughts.

    BLEEEEEP! BLEEEEEP! BLEEE-

    Leland flung out one hand and it fell without force onto the rectangular device, fingers pressing lightly upon the various buttons. He'd only been unshielded by his insulating covers for several minutes, and already his fingertips were unpleasantly chilled. He felt for one of the buttons.

    BLEEEEEP! BLEEEEEP! BLEE....the time is six twenty-three, ante meridiem, or A.M. The date is November fifth, 2007. The day is Monda- the clock began to declare as he found and pressed the first button.

    "Don't remind me." the awakening boy murmured vaguely, tapping the second of the buttons dexterously, if noticeably harder than necessary.

    The alarm clock - a compact red little thing, not that you could tell in the shadows within shadows of Leland's room - died abruptly, but the gleaming digits remained, bathing a small area of its wooden podium green. Lee sat in almost spine-chilling silence while his thoughts cleared, then lurched forward out of his oversized bed. His bare chest was rapidly declining to the same state as his cold fingers as he padded blindly across the hardwood flooring, reaching out in front of his face at the last second to grope for the wall - and the marvelous light switch screwed into its plaster.

    Tack!

    Leland flinched as the two bulbs positioned in the middle of his room exploded in light, rinsing over everything and dousing it in familiarity. The common wooden-bladed fan they were attached to, the bulbs shielded by fogged orb-shaped glass, remained stationary. He didn't think he'd ever used them before. Hell, for all he knew there was no cord to tug that would cause the four blades to begin revolving.

    Squinting his eyes, which were a vibrant aquamarine even while his thoughts were still hazy, Leland crossed over to one of his two dark oak dressers - one was lengthy, with a wide mirror built into its back, the kind made for girls obsessed with appearances; the other was only half a foot (or so) shorter than himself, and held the majority of his summer clothes. Standing indecisively in front of the longer polished piece of furniture quickly drained Leland of whatever residual warmth he had kept, and it was without flourish that he clawed one-two-three of the drawers open by their ornate brass knobs and ruffled for clothes inside. A pair of charcoal colored carpenter's pants, a nondescript white turtleneck, and a navy-blue short sleeve ended up in his pale hands after a few annoying seconds ticked by; and Lee crammed the rest of his clothes haphazardly back into their correct drawers (hopefully) before standing with them.

    As he tugged the cotton material of his second, blue shirt over his head, sending his already-wild and jutting hair into further disarray, Leland sighed as the first pinpricks of timid light peeked uncertainly over the horizon. It took a second to fish out a pair of clean socks from one of his innumerable drawers (honestly - he only needed three or so), another second to jerk them on. Now frowning slightly as the socks did nothing to warm his toes, Lee swept long locks of jet-black hair from his vision. Close to his main doorway, he twisted the knob of a more discreet door, releasing the spherical-shaped handle after giving it enough momentum to swing open. His closet, a miniature walk-in that held an impressive display of jackets, pullovers, shoes, boots, and the like, was lighted using the same switch as his main room.

    A complete waste of electricity in his opinion, but he wasn't the one paying bills every month.

    Sweeping an inspecting tongue across his front upper teeth, Leland plucked one of the jackets from its place - an oversized black zip-up with one of those folded-down collars that seemed as if they were meant to stand up and protect the back of one's neck; equally detached from what he was doing, he flung the garment over his shoulder and jammed his arms into the sleeves. The white turtleneck's sleeves bunched up, as those kinds of shirts' sleeves tend to do, and he reached into the sleeves through the wrists to tug them back down. A large yawn escaped through his mouth finally, accompanied by a small shake of his head as he peered around the stuffy closet. He sprawled noncommittally onto the brown floor and pulled out the first pair of decent shoes he saw - a set of black "skater's shoes" from what he could tell. It honestly made no difference to him.

    Stuffing a pair of black cotton gloves into his pants' pocket on the way out, Leland stepped easily from the closet. He shut the whitewashed door behind him with the toe of one foot, and was already fleeing his room as it snick'd closed.

    A hallway connected his room to a lone bathroom at one end, and a staircase - complete with ridable wooden banister - at the other. The teenager made a halfhearted tromp into the bathroom to stare dismally at his wild, unmanageable hair, brush his teeth for all of twenty seconds, and use the toilet (complete with fancy blue water. His parents didn't skimp on anything, no siree).

    After that a glance at his ever-present pocketwatch (plain silver, and always resting warily on his dresser for pocketing once he selected a pair of pants daily), the faintest tinge of urgency prompted Leland down the spiraling staircase and into what his parents insisted he call the Lobby. The Lobby was nothing but an area of useless space where guests loitered about listlessly until Mr. or Mrs. Kincaid could figure out what they were going to do with them; sure they had coat racks and hat racks and all-those-other-racks, but it was still lifeless. And eerie.

    Leland's frown turned into a scowl as he glanced first towards the kitchen, where he was supposed to make himself some semblance of a healthy, nutritious breakfast each morning, then towards the door.

    Fifteen after seven o' clock. That was the time his watch had projected, and he had set it, as he said to himself "by the school's time". It might've been the same as his house's time, but he had never really investigated the matter. Who cared? What did matter was that he had at least a good twenty-minute-trek to school from his large, gaudy house, and the late-bell rang at a quarter-till eight.

    "Anything'll do..." Leland admitted to himself, glancing around the sizable kitchen for...

    "Ah."

    There it was. A large glass fruit bowl, spilling over with bananas, apples, pears, and some other fruit he didn't care for. He much preferred his fruit chilled, but his parents were more fond of appearances than material things like flavor. Flavor, he reminded himself with a cynical grin, is for the weak.

    Biting carnivorously into the flesh of an apple (and what a joke that is...carnivorously - Get it?), Leland retreated back into the Lobby, snatching a brown messenger's bag from the cleanly Lobby carpet. Carpet meant to be the color of fresh, delicious wine. Which, naturally, reminded Lee of scarlet blood, flowing freely over their floors.

    No matter, he had to get to school before his mind truly began to get away from him.

    Swinging the bag's strap over one shoulder and snatching the green apple from his mouth sans a mouthful of juicy flesh, the blue-eyed boy swung open the front door.
     
  2. Sem

    Sem The Last of the Snowmen
    Former Administrator

    Labored gasps were heard as a figure ran through the darkness. The figure was in a thick forest, trees as old as the world were plentiful and made the air in the forest feel close, as if you could touch it, feel it. The figure ran, going left and right, dodging trees, the figure was swift as a shadow, and as silent as an owl about strike. The figured half ran, half glided out into one of the few clearings in the forest. Bathed in moonlight the figure was now visible. It was female, and looked exactly like a human, but she was not. She was fully cloaked in a robe of ebony with sapphire lining, a hood obscured her face, and long sleeves fell well past her finger tips, and the toes of her footwear barely poking out from beneath the robe.

    Howls came from within the trees, sending chills down her spine. Had they found her? She stopped and turned around, ready to face her pursuers. Pairs of eyes gleamed in the moonlight, growls escaped from their snarled maws telling her that they were ready to kill her. The beasts stepped into the moonlight, revealing their forms. Actually, not all were beasts. Some were human-like, with canine ears and teeth, long shaggy hair grew out of their heads, coming down and stopping in the lower back area. They were clothed with garments worn by common folk, probably scavenged from their kills. Their fur was of all colors, from white grey to brown to the deepest black. The bigger ones, they were nothing short of werewolves. Bigger than any man, and stronger than a dozen men, the towered over their human-like companions. Powerful, muscular legs gave them speed. Large torso and beefy arms supplied them with strength, they were hunch-backed. Their eyes were all different colors, vivid colors, dull colors, their fur too came in all colors. Bright runic patters wrapped around their bodies. Fluids dripped from their sharp-as-knives claws, red was smeared all over their mouths, snarling teeth were stained an orange color, remnants of their recent victims no doubt.

    "We've found you at last, wench." One said, it was in a human form, most likely the leader of this pack. "You gave us a good run, but your time is up, there's no way you could've escaped us."

    "Don't be so sure, I'm not easy prey as you'll soon find out." She stared at the leader blankly. "Even if I do fall here, the loss on your side wouldn't have been worth my life."

    The leaders crimson eyes brewed with pride, a haughty grin crossed his face. "You're only a woman, not one of us could possibly fall to you." His grin faded, his face now serious. "But that's enough talk, curse any gods you have now and die."

    "Very well." She sighed, she brought her hands together in front of her, the sleeves falling back revealing pale hands, the hands of a middle-aged woman. Matching rings on each hand, a sapphire embedding in marvelous silver. "Exousia ek arthro anemos akouo mou klaio!" she chanted loudly, pleading to the earth around her. The wind began to pick up, rustling the leaves in the trees, blowing debris around her. "Niko mou enchroses na arthro abyssos!" The wind grew in strength until it was tearing up the area, the force of her attack threw back her hood, black hair flowed back, two sapphire streaks were visible in her hair. Her face was pale, fine and smooth, and focused to her current task, deep blue eyes unemotionally surveyed the area, a necklace escaped from her cloak blowing back with her hair, it looked similar to her rings.

    The leader snarled bitterly as three of his pack charged the woman, but she was surrounded by a dome of air and wind, they were thrown back with immense force into the woods, their howling cries could be heard, until they abruptly stopped, three trees could be heard falling. The wind immediately began to lose its strength, before dying out completely. The woman's arms fell to her side. "That's three down, fool." She said calmly, mockingly.

    "Witch!" he growled.

    "Indeed." Was her simple reply.

    "Grrr, bring her down!" he waved widely at the human-like werewolves. Two of them transformed into their true forms, the other launched a blast of magic from afar.

    "Kathreftis!" she cried, a green aura surrounded her hand and she literally smacked the blast back with her right hand, sending soaring towards its caster. Four down. The other two charged her, closing in fast. She turned and lifted her left hand at them. "Pagono." Water rose from the ground and enveloped the werewolves and quickly freezing, immobilizing them only a couple meters in front of her. "Frendo." She closed her left palm into a fist, the ice condensed; surely crushing whatever was trapped inside… she lowered her arm. Four more charged her, three attacked with magic this time, simultaneously casting, aiming to down the witch. Raising both hands with her palms out, "Diplos!" a small portal opened, engulfing the attacks, lights flash from within the portal, and then a single large beam shout out, decimated the three human-form wolves. Her magic had just doubled their magic and fired it back at them.

    She smiled slyly over her victories, but there were more to be won, as a single werewolf had charged her and was too close for her to perform any magic attacks. Silently and swiftly a shimmering blade of silver emerged from her right sleeve, coming to rest comfortably in her hand. Imbedded in the hilt were several sapphires, which she used to store some of her magic, so she could call upon it when she grew weak, that's what the rings and the necklace were for as well. The blade reflected every bit of moonlight, so much that it seemed to glow. The werewolf was larger than the others, and more menacing, more… feral. It snarled malevolently, and took a swing at the witch with its mighty claws. She jumped out of the way, but the beast tried again, and again. Until finally it took a final swing, she jumped back and spun, looking over her shoulder, seeing the tips of the claws barely missing her back. As she spun she brought the sword around, cutting the fingers off of the beastie. It stepped back and screamed in pain, holding its de-fingered hand with its other. She sprinted under its arms and impaled the werewolf through the gut. It tried to cry out, but only the sound of gurgling blood flooding into its lungs was heard, it fell back. She withdrew the blade, not a drop of blood stuck to it. Ten down.

    She turned to face the leader, noticing the mix of anger, confusion, and perhaps fear in his eyes. He snarled, "I wont forget this witch, I'll get revenge on you." And with that he evanesced into the forest. The sword shot back up her sleeve, she smiled a bit, but it faded. Those werewolves hadn't always been in her world… in fact they only recently started appearing. She started on a quest to find out where they came from, and why they were attacking, and to find a way to send them back from whence they came. She realized however that her answers did not lie within this world, and so she would journey to another, and find a way. With her remaining strength and with the magic in the sapphires, they began to glow, and she slowly chanted. She suddenly vanished in a flash of light…

    ~*~

    It was a cool morning, grey skies and a brisk breeze blowing through Illinois' Bond County, the town of Mulberry Grove was just waking, aiming to start a new day. There was a girl on her way to school; she looked about 16, a bit short but slender. She wore some Vans shoes, black, with grey and blue checkering on the sides. She wore black cargo pants with a studded belt; and a black shirt with a design of crossbones under a muffin in white. She had some black and blue striped arm warmers, with a studded wristband on her left wrist and a solid blue bangle on her right wrist, some simple metal bands on her fingers. Around her neck was a black and blue scarf, her black hair was down, her bangs covering her eye as she walked with her head down, two blue streaks were in her hair. Slung over her shoulder was a black messenger bag, holding all her needed school supplies. She was in fact the witch. She had arrived only days prior, and had been working hard to get herself set up in this new world. She knew the role of a student would be in her best interest, being able to learn quickly about this world and how it worked. This would be her first day at this school. Enrolment was difficult, but she was able to pull it off using her unique… abilities… Her name was Sorena Retroir; Sorena being her actual name, Retroir being something she picked up from studying a bit of this world's languages, picking it up from French. She could not speak French, nor any other language besides English, and the magic language she used, but she liked the name and stuck with it.

    She new it would be in this world that she'd find the origin of the creatures from her world, and it would be in this small area where the first clue would be unveiled, for her magic led her here for reason, she kept this in mind as she sat down for her first period class.
     
    #2 Sem, Sep 13, 2007
    Last edited by a moderator: Jul 27, 2014

  3. Edit: I FIXEDED IT!!!! :O! He'll be in school next post and stuff, but I'm late for dinner atm, so i gotta runnnn.

    Is it the first day of school for EVERYONE?  ??? 

    Gah! Class til 4:40 then meeting friends at 5 and then football game til 11. . . I'll post in the FMA RP later tonight/early tomorrow, so PLEASE wait for me, FireFox! Until then, you'll just have to be happy with this. . . but I wanna make that FMA post good >:(

    He doesn't have a last name yet. Deal with it. :D




    The sun wasn't even up yet. The air was still chill and bright puffs of cold smoke showed where the large wolf's breath had been.

    The eyes that gazed through the forest were a pale amber, clear and hesitant. The wolf itself had a sandy pelt, a dull gold spotted with greys and browns. It moved with the same weariness that was in its eyes, cautiously into the clearing. Bright birds exploded out of a bush and the wolf grinned with glee. He crept hesitantly into the open area and looked around. Something was strange, was it almost too bright out? He stopped, cocking his head.

    He raised his head, ears alert, eyes focused somewhere far away. Then he let out a growl, and tore off through the forest.

    =-=-=

    At the edge of the woods, the wolf stopped. The woods backed a small suburban neighborhood. Carefully worming its way into a thicket, the wolf snuggled carefully inside. This was his special place, it had always been. A thin, worn book and a pair of binoculars were there, as well as a bundle of rags.

    He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. The breath hung in the air, catching on the brambles and drifting lazily about. Then the change began.

    The wolf shrunk down in size, dwindling. The uncomfortable sound of bones reforming could be heard, grinding against each other and shortening, lengthening. Suddenly the knees reversed, and the wolf buckled, stil shrinking and growing more vague, and indistinct, and fleshy. . .

    After a moment or two, no longer, the wolf was no more. A young boy lay in its place, panting and drenched in sweat. He sat up, shivering violently. The morning air was far cooler to his naked skin. He hastily unwadded the pile of rags and looked at them. His school clothes, a sharp looking pair of khakis and a striped button up shirt, along with an undershirt and boxers, socks and sneakers. He carefully put it all on, pulling it straight, before picking up the binoculars and the book. Faded letters across the front said "Bird watching: A field guide". The boy smiled dolefully and carefully pulled himself out of the thicket.

    Outside of the little hollow the tangle of bush and brambles made, the air seemed much colder. Light was barely visible in the form of pink and gold whisps on the horizon. The full, cold moon still smiled its friendly light down on the dew covered backyard and woods.

    The light was enough to show a young boy with sandy hair, not much different in colour from the wolf's tawny coat. His eyes were also a clear amber, though touched with violet grey. He was tall but well built, sturdy. His face was attractive and even in human form had a rangey, wolfish look in it that was attractive, it spelled trouble and knowledge, an untouchable wildness and brush of cyniscism.

    "Beyard! Where are you!" An exasperated call came from the house, and Beyard ran a hand through his short, spikey hair. The
    If they could ever take him seriously. . . His sandy hair and unimpressive coat colour, not to mention his name, Beyard, had earned him the nickname "The Bay", as if he were a horse! Bay. . .

    He tossed his head and started off across the yard, following the trek he had made earlier to avoid leaving a second. It was just better for tracking purposes. He was still thinking like a wolf. He wondered if his eyes had changed back and with a sigh realized they probably wouldn't for a while, as he had stayed in his wolf form for too long. It was no trouble, he thought, walking into the kitchen and dropping the binoculars with a plop, along with the book. His mother turned.

    "There you are! You are going to be late if you don't leave now. Did you see any good birds today?"

    Early in the morning was the best time for bird watching, after all. And frolicking through the woods as a wolf.

    "Not anything exciting, at first," He replyed, carefully sorting the various lies in his head. "just the common finches and what not. But the past few days I could have sworn I heard a woodpecker, and I saw it today, I did." He let the excitement shine on his face. He would LOVE to actually see a woodpecker. . .

    His mother smiled and handed him his stuff, and a moment later he was back outside, in the front yard this time, flouncing across the yard with a sigh. He felt so small and light in this body, but slower, also, and less powerful. But he gained advantages like speach and opposable thumbs, so he didn't mind. He may have been a wolf, but he was also a teenage boy, and it was off to school for him, after all.

    He was already exhausted from the long trek that morning. They knew he left the house early to watch birds, but if they knew just HOW early he left. . . Beyard yawned. It was going to be a long day.
     
  4. First block, clogged with the standard medley of uninterested teenagers, was rather stubbornly refusing to relinquish it's set amount of time. The lazily-painted tan, brick walls were squeezing out whatever energy the brittle, frozen morning air had pumped into Leland with a vengeance; the rogue-haired boy found himself more often than not gazing, eyes glazed into a focus that held only whatever his mind was reflecting upon. The palm of his right hand was propped against the side of his cheek, cocking his head sideways as if to state defiantly that he wasn't listening whatsoever to the timid brunette struggling to get across the importance of Alexander the Great on the world in general.

    Dark hair brushing impishly just above his line of vision and eyes trailing after the path of a fluttering bird outside the large, clean window to his left, the adventurous spirit behind his blue eyes murmured its protest.

    "....ee?"

    It was without thought that he began tapping the butt of his mechanical pencil against the wooden surface of his desk. Tap, tap, tap.... As he wondered if he'd have enough time today to go hiking in the foliage-clogged expanse behind his house. He'd carry his messenger's bag slung over one shoulder after beating a hasty path home, exchanging school books, notebooks, and his other miscellaneous garbage for some portable snack and perhaps some homework material. If he could find a nice outcropping of rock, like the jutting crag he had found a week or two ago, then he'd be able to eat while puzzling over the more meaningless features of life and enjoying the vista spread out below him.

    Although, he wasn't certain if it was today, tomorrow, or next week that his father was supposed to return from his business meeting...at least his mother was of little concern. She had left only yesterday for her own barrage of Meetings With Very Important People. He supposed, palm slipping further up his cheek as he slowly lost his attachment to the classroom around him (more so than he already had), he'd risk having to explain himself to his father if he happened home later than the burly, suited businessman. After all, winter would be upon them in whole soon enough, and then the daylight would be eaten before Leland so much as had a chance to consider going out roaming.

    As for now...he was trapped in this whitewashed cube of space, jotting down the occasional note that might or might not have anything to do with what Mrs...Mrs....what was her name again?...was saying.

    "LEE!"

    Leland's eyes blinked wide in confusion as he swung his head in an arc, bringing his vision into focus enough to catch the severely exasperated scowl on his aforementioned teacher's plump face. Her hands were curled on her hips, one wrapped around an uncapped dry erase marker. Zippo, was it? Or Expo? He couldn't remember. Her bleached-white turtleneck sweater rest neatly against a skirt of black fabric, reaching a full foot past her knees. A pair of black, standard expensive-but-classy shoes rest firmly on the squared linoleum floor. The woman's curly dishwater-blond hair was pulled back into a strangled ponytail that trailed down the base of her spine, although several thick strands had managed to escape. They twirled around either side of her heart-shaped face, evading the round curve of her professor's glasses.

    "Y-yes?" he asked tentatively. It had been a long while since he had last gotten distracted enough to catch and hold a teacher's scrutinizing attention.

    "I know that the outside scenery is vitally important to your English assignment, but I'd rather have your eyes on the board while we're working out questions." Mrs. Kinnerd - that was her name - rebutted in a sharp tone, warm brown eyes struggling to hold a serious glare's quality.

    The class bubbled with withheld snickers, most of them probably resulting from Leland's positively clueless expression. It was well-known that he held absolutely zero interest in the world of rules and organization that composed...well...everything this day and age. Most teachers had given up on him. He turned in his homework, made A's or B's on his tests, and simply could not maintain a hold on any sort of lecture.

    Even if a teacher got it in their head to insert a movie or video that would have other students beaming, he remained steadfastly fascinated with whatever was playing out in his imagination. Thus this sudden interruption from his new English teacher (the old one had been fired not a week prior to this incident) was rather unsettling.

    Leland achieved a winning smile of apologetic embarrassment and was about to verbalize his consent when a pure, unexplained jolt of pain lanced through his head like a bullet. The pain wasn't physical but mental, as if his own mind was turning on itself and trying to struggle against some unknown unseen terror - his eyes widened and dilated, leaving only a slim ring of blue around his large black pupils. His hand (the one that had been holding his unused pencil) flew up to his forehead in a common "my head hurts" gesture, but he had the added effect of bolting to his feet like an alerted prey.

    "L....Leland?" The teacher asked, her voice startled.

    "I..."

    Another bolt of pain he had never experienced before, accompanied by a sense of powerful nausea. It was as if his stomach was attempting to climb his throat.

    "...think I have a migraine. I-I'll go to the nurse." he declared shakily, unaware that he held the utmost attention from every student in his class. Two dozen upturned faces watched his, memorizing this event to relay during the lunch block and in the halls after class.

    It seemed the weird, antisocial kid had decided to snap. Screw school and ditch, maybe.

    "What an uncalled-for reaction. Does no magic whatsoever exist on this plane, just like the rumors said...?" his thoughts were no longer his own; they had a...a...feminine quality to them, along with a hint of curiosity.

    Speechless as well as momentarily without thought, the dark-haired teenager stumbled out into the school's hallway, paler than one could think possible. His stomach heaved once, but he prevented throwing up with the last of his mental strength. This was draining from him at a startling rate, his thoughts reduced to inarticulate exclamations.

    I...who...you....what....I...I...

    "He was right...as always. A perfect capsule for what I have in min. THis is a world based solely on science and technology, huh? And not very-far advanced, either..." the female voice commented, almost to herself. Leland could imagine the owner of the voice frowning impatiently.

    Leland had, somehow, managed to fumble outside, and was relieved to have his knees go out after he had floundered out several steps into the school's grassy front lawn. His dark jacket was askew, and his bag had been left back in class, along with his sanity of course.

    His pale fingers clenched in the short, yellowing grass, and a strangled noise escaped his throat. Purple flickers of some sort of energy resembling fire and electricity equally was encircling him now, like a crazy apparition from a poorly-written novel.

    "...and you were the best candidate. As long as you keep that mentality of yours, I suppose..."

    How cryptic.... Leland managed to think seriously before his grip on reality slipped away into the hands of someone else.


    {{OOC - The magic is visible, for the record, only to non-human creatures (lawl to Beyard and Sorena). And Leland does randomly keel over in front of the school, feel free to move him. And his hair/eyes get flipped. At least for the moment. Not that you can see his eyes being unconscious, but...well, white hair is noticeable.}}
     
  5. Lawlz Beyard can only see magic with his werewuffle eyez

    Trotting across the street to the school, Beyard realized he was late for the first class of the day. He sighed, but it didn't really matter. He'd be fine. He doubted his teacher cared. He was a good student and popular, as well, especially with the teachers. . .

    Beyard didn't get a chance to finish the thought, as he sneezed violently. He recovered, but sneezed again,and again. . .

    "Gah!" It wasn't very articulate but his eyes had begun to water and he couldn't really do much. Something had irriatated his nose. . . He sneezed again and tried to get himself under control. Wiping a hand across his eyes, he looked up and noticed something lying in front of the school.

    "The hell. . .?" He got out, before sneezing again. What was driving his nose haywire like this? He knew his sense of smell had been heightened even in human form, but this was rediculous. And who would just leave bags lying in the middle of the lawn? It wasn't very professional. . .He sneezed again. . . Probably the janitors. . .

    But. . . it was a kid?

    Beyard ran over and fell beside him, resisting the urge to sneeze. It was even worse now, if possible. Fighting his urge to sneeze and blinking blearily from the tears in his eyes, he examined the kid.

    It was Leland, but something was wrong with his hair. . .had he dyed it? He shook him but he seemed to be unconcious. Beyard was alarmed. What had caused him to pass out in front of the school? At any rate, he had to be gotten to the nurse. . . Fighting the urge to panic- and sneeze- Beyard glanced around. Half way through the morning, everyone was in class. Not a soul was around in front of the school. Beyard nodded and shouldered his bag, then carefully lifted the unconcious Leland. Not only his sense of smell had been enhanced, but he hid that, mostly.

    He took off as fast as he could manage carrying a teenage boy, tearing down the halls and wobbling while fighting the urge to sneeze. He made it, somehow, to the nurses office, though he couldn't see where he was going.

    He carefully set Leland down on one of the small cots and turned, panting to the nurse.

    Then he sneezed. He sneezed so hard he felt like he had broken a rib, and he just kept sneezing.

    The poor nurse had no idea what was going on. He was obviously suffering and he had just deposited an unconcious boy in her office.

    When his nose had calmed down enough, he turned to the nurse.

    "I. . .found him. Unconcious. Didn't know. . .what else. . . to do."

    He flopped down then, aware of how silly he must have looked and felt, a tall gangly boy, collapsed in the nurses office. She just stared. He felt a little lost, but there wasn't much he could do until he caught his breath. And he was worried about Leland. . . It gave him an excuse to stay.

    Besides, he was missing his first class, he reminded himself,as he sneezed again.

    Sorry it's rushed, class in 5! He;s allergic to magic, poor boy.
     
  6. Sem

    Sem The Last of the Snowmen
    Former Administrator

    OOC: RAWR, Sorry. Been busy this week. >> But its the weekend so yay.

    BIC:

    Sorena was sitting in her history class, jotting down notes, fascinated by this world's rich history. They had been reviewing basic American history, before getting into more difficult things. "Fascinating or not, History was written by the winners." she mentally reminded her self as her black pen ceased gliding across the paper, she looked up at the teacher, well not really at the teacher, but pretended she was, only listening to the words out of her mouth.

    About halfway through the lesson Sorena began catching whiffs of a familiar scent in the air, and her sixth sense was acting up: something peculiar was happening at the school. She raised her hand. "Yes?" asked her teacher.

    "My head doesn't feel very well, may I go to the nurse's office?" she asked, faking her very best sick-face.

    "Hold on, lemmie get you a pass." the teacher half-sighed as she crossed over to her desk and wrote down a quick note on a sticky pad. "Here." she said, handing it to her ailed student. Sorena took the note and quickly left the room. She simply followed her nose, and it led her to a trail. Following the trail it led her outside, a large amount lingered on the grass until it moved away back indoors. Sorena was actually, ironically, led to the nurse's office, a stream of sneezes could be heard from the inside.

    The witch stepped into the door, seeing an unconscious boy being led into the back. Another sat in a chair, and began violently sneezing upon Sorena's arrival. But this boy was not the one she was interested in, the other in the back was just drenched in magical activity. Magic wasn't even supposed to naturally exist in this world, it was all fairy tales, so this boy who was being haunted by strong magics would cause her to investigate. "I'll probably be stalking him on his way home later as well." she smirked as she took a seat.

    A befuddled nurse came out from the back. "Oh dear, and what's wrong with you?" she asked Sorena. She knew it'd be a good idea for her to earn passage into the back.

    "My head aches awfully," she fibbed. "And my stomach's upset, so I don't feel very good at all ma'am." she grabbed her stomach as if it'd just sent a sudden pang of pain into her body.

    "Would you like to lie down?" the stressed nurse asked, putting her hand to her head. Sorena nodded and she was led back. A dark smirk crossed the witch's face, hidden by her hair, she gazed over at the still sneezing boy and frowned sympathetically. She was led to one of the few beds and she laid on it, on her side so she could observe him through cracked eyelids. Hopefully he'll come to soon."
     


  7. It was with an unpleasant jolt - the sort that awakens you from the most vicious of nightmares - that Leland opened his eyes. His mind was in a deadlock trying to locate where he was; the scene was familiar somehow, in a way that held not the slightest fragment of logic. He blinked his eyes to clear them and heighten his perception, yet he discovered that it was a pointless gesture. He had been fully conscious and at the peak of his awareness from the moment he had awoken. He repeated the blinking process anyways, seriously expecting the view in front of him to disappear - he usually awoke the instant he realized he was dreaming.

    And he had no doubt that this was a dream.

    The expanse in front of him, beside him, and surrounding him entirely was a smudge of pastel colors. A delicate cream for the surface he was standing on, foggy violet composed the sky, and a soft mist-like white cloaked everything. Other than himself, half-crouching and fully clothed with his wild black hair narrowly avoiding his eyes, there was no sign of life in the..the...area?

    That didn't seem quite right - as far as he was willing to bet, the place continued forever, leaving him nothing more than a speck to be swallowed by empty space. Leland's skin crawled, but he didn't mind.

    "You're taking this rather well, aren't you?" a voice that ranged just outside his scope of recognition inquired.

    Lee straightened and wheeled around, face to face with a solemn-faced woman that most definitely was a figment of his dream.

    Her long, long hair was inky purple, and in choppy waves that flowed together easily. Her bangs framed a pale, heart-shaped face with eyes that were a haphazard mix between cotton candy and a lighter shade of her hair. A long, billowing coat of white shrouded her figure, but not enough for him to identify a kind of oriental outfit underneath - white and violet hues seemed to compose her close-fitting shirt and pants as well, bestowing an ethereal appearance on the woman.

    "I...ah!" Leland's eyes widened as the previous out-of-reach recognition finally slipped within his grasp. He turned the rest of his body to greet the tall figure - at least a full foot taller than Leland's lanky physique. His eyes flared with curiosity. "You were talking - in my head - before. That was you, wasn't it?"

    The only other creature inhibiting the space smiled appreciatively, but it was nothing more than a shallow expression. "Yes, Leland. I'm glad you caught on quickly. It means you are willing to accept what happened to you before - in your own world - as real. But we are short on time, I must-"

    "Wait!" Lee's infinitely-bored expression was nowhere to be found. "My own world? Where am I now, then? And is my entire body gone - did I just disappear?"

    The woman seemed to focus in more on the boy now, satisfied that he was taking the idea of her existence in stride. She had selected a candidate that exceeded her expectations. "Not your body - I don't think it would've taken the stress of this place. I merely drew your soul into this pocket dimension, you could call it. It is your soul that I need. Please listen as carefully as you can - and I know you can listen when something catches your interest, Leland."

    The quality of apprehension in this untouchable woman's voice kept Leland's mouth shut, despite his longing to get some sort of reassurance that this wasn't just a too-good-to-be-true dream. He didn't think was...actually, he KNEW it wasn't, but the woman's confirmation would've helped.

    "...Okay..." he breathed cautiously, wary of any signs that what was happening was nothing but an event occurring between one second and the next as he slept.

    "I have absolutely no time to explain information you do not know, but I'll summarize it. You'll understand later on...the werewolf and witch can help some. "

    Lee's eyes widened even more, but he kept his silence.

    "There are, quite literally, an indefinite number of worlds in existence. Not planets in a solar system, such as this universe possesses, but an innumerable number of realities. Each with a different history, a different set of rules that apply. Where advanced technology may take precedence in one reality, powerful magic can be a structure for all existence in another."

    Reading, perhaps, the hopeful gleam in Leland's eye at the mention of magic, the woman frowned. "Don't misunderstand me. There worlds were never meant to intersect one another; such clashes are far too potentially dangerous in the best of instances....however, it is being done. Someone...a former acquaintance of mine...has developed a way to connect the realms at gathering points of power - where the gap between these realities is thin. They require the use of a "Key" - a metaphor at best. While they unlock and lock the Gates between these structurally-different worlds, they are not physical existences. They-"

    "...use the soul." Leland intercepted, his focused but expressing none of the violet-eyes woman's fear. That explained her declaring that she needed his soul, but...

    "...but you and him are two people - that means you each have one of these "Key"-things, right? If you don't think it's good to open them, why can't you just lock them when he tries to open them?"

    Her eyes narrowed slightly, withholding something. "...simply put, I cannot use the Key I possess anymore. He did not take kindly to my change of heart, let's say. Particularly when he realized I own the more powerful of the two Keys. One can open and shut the Gates repeatedly - the one I own - but the other can do nothing more than open and lock a world once."

    She smirked in a ghost-like way - the grin haunted him more than her careful avoidance of what had occurred between herself and the other individual possessing a key.

    "....no matter, Leland. I'm sure you understand already, but I'm giving my Key to you - entrusting it, as is the official term. Feel free to use it how you see fit...but remember that there is a reason realities are not connecting. Now is no time to attempt to merge the worlds, regardless of what he...what we...thought..."

    She seemed to be hurrying at this point, and a jolt of confusion sent questions lurching through Lee's mind.

    "I...how can you tell when worlds are connected?"

    "You will be able to see. The witch - and the Key - should all be drawn to the laylines where the Gates appear. Strong magic attracts strong magic. The werewolf should accompany you, too...he would make a powerful ally...the more you have, the better. The Key will act as no more than a...virus, of sorts, to your body. I'm only hoping you can resolve the issues on your own...."

    "But-...a virus? What does that mean? Will it make me sick, or make me look different, or-" Leland was stuttering unintentionally, bewildered by the way his eyes were refusing to focus on the feminine figure any longer.

    "-there's no time. I have to transfer the Key now, before the part of my soul holding it...."

    She sighed, and the sound was altogether more in Lee's mind than out loud.

    Several runes that send shivers of pain and dislike down his spine etched themselves in the soft, velvety air that was now engulfing Leland in a blanket. They were the chillingly-deep shade of black that existed only in strong nightmares, surrounded - or restrained, was a thought that lanced through Leland's mind - by a thin lacing of silver-white that glowed brightly enough to make his eyes squint reflexively.

    His silhouette expanded behind him as the light grew and shifted, inverting everything around him into a contorted dark abyss that he could no longer see through the glowing runes' outlines. He shuddered as brands of pain began to sprout on his body, imitating the runes (he could no longer see them, the light had swallowed them as it was swallowing him) in shape and design.

    A dark, coiling emotion he didn't recognize bloomed somewhere in his chest, moments before he lost his footing and fell out of the dream.

    That's what she said to watch for. Don't forget it...

    Don't forget that there's something in the Key...don't...




    "Wha?"

    Leland blinked hazily, disoriented and uncertain of why he was laying down comfortably on a soft, if leather-covered, cot. He had been standing in his dream. He had, in fact, not moved so much as a foot throughout its duration - he wasn't certain he would have been able to shift his position without losing his sense of self.

    That was besides the point, though. The real question was why he wasn't outside, pitched over on the school's front lawn where he had fallen.

    Lee shifted his head to one side and regretted it nearly the next instant. His stomach surged forwards, and he had to repress the sickening need to vomit all over the clean linoleum floor off to one side of his bed. A wave of nausea struck him, and the rolling in his stomach returned. Forcing himself to swallow, Leland struggled into a sitting position with his shoulders hunched and his head drooping.

    Breathe....breathe....don't throw up all over the nurse's office.... he muttered to himself wearily.

    Three coughs wheezed their way out of his mouth, but the nausea and urge to empty his stomach was slowly slipping away.

    "A dream after all?" He heard himself ask from hundreds of miles away.

    It didn't seem possible. And it seemed completely possible.

    Leland lifted one leaden hand up to wipe away his roguish hair - and paused.


    The hair drooping in his face, for one, was not his own. It etched itself out around the edges of his vision like his own hairstyle, but the strands were a ghostly white shade that he hadn't noticed before. As if he had died it, the color was snowy and untouched by the general sprinkling of grey old-timers found themselves with - it was completely unnatural.

    Inverted just like what happened in that other place, because it all really happened and I did get eaten by that light only it decided not to do anything and that's why I'm still here...

    Leland blocked out the barrage of thoughts and carefully prevented himself from reeling his his cheap school bed.

    What he needed to do now was find that witch and werewolf She had been commenting on and get the hell out of school without being stopped. Not in that order, per say, but....

    "...?"

    Without much warning to prevent a look of confusion, a bright flicker of deep blue light caught and held his eyes. His head turned of its own accord, drawn to the azure sketched around the figure of a raven-haired girl his age.

    Even more peculiar was the depth of his understanding as to the nature of that outline.

    "You must be the witch...that's what a blue aura means." he commented assuredly to the girl, wondering what kind of magic this Key had inside of it.

    Either that or the woman, the one he was coming to call "She", had transfered more than just the Key to his detached soul.

    "...but what about the werewolf?...Maybe I'll meet it once I find the Gate..." He continued, scanning the room.


    {{Lawl Leland muttering to himself liek he's crazy. Sorry for the WTF-long dream. And I'm pretending Leland is in one of those rooms with the crappy cots, while Beyard would prolly be sitting in the main office-area of the nurse's office. Not in the same room. XD His eyes are still gold, for the record...he just can't really notice them himself, ya know. And the magickz he has are different than Sorena's I'm sure - he sees auras that tell him what species a person is, yay?}}
     
  8. Dave sat in class listening to the teacher drone on. He wasn't sure which was the more boring, the teacher or the subject. He sat, staring disinterestedly, the eraser of his pencil rap-tap-tapping against his open notebook. His note-taking skills left something to be desired. Mainly, he just wrote down the more interesting tidbits and figured he'd remember the rest as long as he did the reading. Not that it mattered. He never studied his own notes, anyway. He always thought the act of writing them down was important enough to reinforce the information in his memory.

    His eyes darted away from the teacher for a moment as he saw his sister enter the room. His heart nearly stopped. He was still getting used to seeing her again after so long. She returned only days ago, and she hadn't changed a bit since that fateful day so many years ago. Then again, he supposed she wouldn't.

    His sister awkwardly wove around the other students, even though she didn't have to. Dave was the only one who was even aware she was in the room, a fact that still amazed him as he could see her so clearly. Perhaps too clearly at times. After a moment, she decided to forget walking around everyone and just cut straight across.

    "You felt it, right?" she asked, walking behind him so as not to obstruct his view. She tossed her long, black hair from her eyes. "That... disturbance."

    The convenient thing about being in class while talking to her was that he could just write his side of the conversation down and people would think he was taking notes. Dave had realized this the other day and explained it to his sister. Far less conspicuous than trying to whisper to her and trying not to get anyone else's attention, especially the teacher.

    "It was as if a thousand voices cried out," he wrote on the next page. "And were suddenly silenced."

    "Yeah, very funny," she said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, I went to check it out, and I saw some kid laying on the lawn. Then another kid went and took him to the nurse."

    "An alien visitor?" Dave jotted down.

    "No, I think I've seen him around before," his sister mused. "Except his hair was white now. He was definitely the source of the disturbance, or at least its focal point."

    "Any idea what it was?" Dave wrote.

    "Not a clue," his sister replied. "But it doesn't feel local. Want me to keep an eye on him?"

    "Please do," Dave inscribed.

    Dave glanced over at his sister again as she walked directly out of the room, unhindered by such annoying little hurdles like desks and students. People often said it was like he had a guardian angel, but he knew it was just his sister. Sometimes people ask him if he ever got over her death, but he just tells them she's always with him. He could feel her presence for years, but only recently did she become so apparent. Even she was at a loss to explain it. She wasn't even sure where she had been all this time...


    Olivia walked into the nurse's office, passing through a medicine cabinet as she did so. The white-haired boy was just starting to wake up, so she respectfully kept her distance. Just because normal people couldn't see her didn't mean she could just get right up in people's faces whenever she wanted. That'd be just rude.

    There was a white curtain between her and door, so she didn't see the other girl at first. When the boy addressed her, she could make her out faintly through the sheet.

    "A witch, a werewolf, and a gate, huh?" Olivia mused aloud, not expecting anyone to hear her. "That sounds interesting..."
     
  9. Mrrr, Since I'm not in the room, not much for me to do, is there? I'm going to assume we're just sepperated by a curtain. ^^ like, the nurses office isn't gonna be that big. >> usually it's just a room and half is behind a curtain.

    Does Bay stay shiney in human form? I dunno. Everything else fades when he goes back to being human. . . He'd prolly be a lovely gold. -^^- everything else about him is that yellow. . .


    Beyard sat sniffling pathetically.

    "Allergies, boy?" The nurse asked. He shook his head mournfully. He had no doubt it had to do with his werewolf senses. When he left werewolf form, his senses stayed heightened, but slowly faded the longer he stayed human. They'd return when he was furry again, but for now, he was glad. whatever his werewolf nose had been smelling was driving him mad.

    "You got a cold?" Beyard looked at the woman, who looked obviously off balanced by the influx of ill children into her office. She still hadn't looked at Leland. He wondered why she hadn't gotten on that, he had dumped the unconcious Leland on her and she'd watched him sit on the floor, sneezing?

    "If you're okay, yopu should probably get back to class now." She was a push over. Beyard gave her his most winning smile and replied in a worried tone "I don't want to leave Leland. . .I want to make sure he's alright." She looked at him and went back to whatever she did at the small desk infront of the door to the office.

    He heard muttering from the other side of the curtain. Had Leland woken up? It didn't sound like the girl. . . Had he been a wolf, his ears would have pricked up. As it was, he merely turned his head and got up, walking to the curtain, fighting the tickle in his nose again. He curiously poked his nose around it.

    What now? :D
     
  10. The smell from behind the curtain was... absent. Almost as if it were there, but not there. It was more an impression of a smell than an actual smell. That impression was of blood and smoke and dust, and the stench of a recent kill. There was also the familiar sent of a human. In fact, it was similar to one of the other students at the school, if Beyard cared to check, except it bore the sweet scent of a female. Even curiouser about the odor was that the more one tried to smell it, the more definite the impression of blood and smoke became while the other scents remained just as... impressionable as they did before. The smell seemed to become warmer, as well, as if the body was burning. Or, rather, that's the impression of whatever smell may or may not be there.
     
  11. GM, did you just auto my charrie looking at your charrie? He would prolly see nothing, as his wolf eyes have faded out, and the fact your character technically can't exist. :-\

    Quoting PhiyahPhoxxel on this 'un. . . "NO magic/supernatural phenomenon exist there."

    "It's only the Gates that allow magic and abnormal into the worlds that don't already have it. Leland's world does NOT possess any supernatural phenomenon, so unless your characters are one of the VERY first few through the Gate, they can't exist."


    I've cleared my backstory with FF and we built Beyard's werewolf history together, so he's cool. Olivia, however. . . ???
     
  12. ((Sorry. I guess I misread your post and assumed he pulled back the curtain and looked at her directly. I also couldn't remember if he could see the supernatural and stuff, so I tried to word it as something he might see if he could see that stuff. I'll go ahead and delete the entire thing to replace it with what she smells like.))

    ((Not even ghosts are allowed? I guess I'll have to rethink these characters or something. Maybe she came through the gate recently or something.))

    ((Edit: Editted))
     
  13. {{OOC-

    -hates writing purely OOC-posts-

    GM, one more confusing aspect to your character-duo, regardless of whether she came through the newly-opened Gate. You say she is a ghost-like figure of your boy character's sister - which is odd enough in itself if she randomly popped out of the Gate (since the Gates RANDOMLY select a world to link to, and it is different each time it is used). But, that aside, why on earth can only your character see her? Either nobody would be able to, or everyone who is human could.

    Either that or there's something about your male character - which would, again, be impossible for Leland's, Beyard's, and his world (unless he had an encounter with an entity that can give him Magical Ghost-Seeing Powers of Death and Destruction). Either they both came from the Gate, he can't see her, or she can be seen by everyone (which I think you were trying to avoid). And the closest she could be is a representation of his sister from another world; possessing the same kind of spirit, but not his sister other than in appearances.

    Plus, you didn't do much to 'fix' the posts other than scribble out some text and change what Beyard SAW to what he SMELLED.

    Instead of claiming "this is what Beyard smelled", - which is autoing - say "Whatshername smelled OF this". Then MSDL could choose whether she wanted to have Beyard smell it or not. On her own. Don't put what other character's do in the least, 'cause it typically annoys them. Unless they say "LOL HOKAY!"


    -is off to concoct a FMA RP reply- }}
     
  14. Sem

    Sem The Last of the Snowmen
    Former Administrator

    OOC: Right then! Now that all that's over and I actually have some time and will, I post.

    BIC:
    Sorena studied the boy intently, tracing his mind with a tiny strand of her power, she sensed the beginnings of something magical, or so it seemed. She closed her eyes, trying to see if she could see what he was dreaming, but a strong force was blocking her access, strong enough to know she couldn't possibly ever break it. A few minutes flew by and then she felt a sudden surge of power within the boy, more power than she had. The rush made her flinch and the connection was broken, her eyes flicked open.
    The boy stirred in his sleep, until he finally dragged himself into a sitting position. He looked sick, she would be too if all that power was forced into her body. He muttered and spoke to himself for a bit before he turned to notice her, she stared him square in the eyes.

    "You must be the witch...that's what a blue aura means." he said to her, but turned away indifferently and said something about a werewolf.

    "So he anticipated my coming and was even able to see my aura?... Interesting..." she mused silently to herself, he showed an extraordinary ability. She was unable to see auras, she only knew they existed, and that everything had one. The boy only sat there, she might as well say something. "You're right, I'm a witch, or the witch, as you said, meaning you were expecting me?" she sat up and looked at him, the cot squeaked painfully as she sat. "My name's Sorena... and I'm not from this world... I came from a different one in search of answers. You seem to be the only being in this world with magical ability, or the only one with significance anyway... so I assume you're connected to all of this..." something tickled her sixth sense and she looked up, seeing the figure of a little girl floating against the wall behind the boy. She glared at the child, figuring out it was a specter, or so it seemed. She would ignore it, for now. She shook her head and returned her attention to the boy. "...So I ask for your partnership." She stuck out her hand.
     
  15. "Another world?" Olivia commented to herself. "But he can see her, and she's clearly solid. How can that be? Does that mean she's from a different world than I'm from?"

    Olivia recalled hearing about something once about there being infinite dimensions, each different from the last, and all parallel to each other. Maybe some beings react differently to different dimensions, or maybe she's not entirely in this one. She never paid it much mind before. It never really applied to her. People generally didn't come back from the dead, after all. So if the witch is from another living world, maybe there are other afterlives as well? Just the one was already difficult to contemplate, and she still didn't understand that to begin with, despite having come from there.

    She did come from there, right? She was pretty sure she did, but her memories of it were so vague and conceptual she wasn't sure she actually experienced them. That has been troubling her for days. Maybe she couldn't remember because it was something the living wasn't meant to know? But why would that be? This was just so weird...
     

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