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New World

Discussion in 'General Role Play' started by Wocky, Mar 28, 2012.

  1. Removed
     
    #1 Wocky, Mar 28, 2012
    Last edited: Oct 8, 2014
  2. Rizzo Rex Rotorblade (Or von Schnitzelmacher, as his name had been before he changed it), had finally managed to carve out a pretty normal life for himself; he had a job, money to pay for food, all that good stuff that comes with independence and a degree of fiscal responsibility. He had also managed to make a little home for himself in a snowy forest near to where he worked; he'd set up a hammock between two thick tree trunks, built some semblance of a roof over his head with twigs and branches, and had a little area to set up a campfire. He had never particularly liked living in apartment buildings or houses, not if it meant living by himself, anyhow.

    It mightn't be much, he often thought to himself, but it certainly beat living in the cage his father had him use when he was younger and still living in his accursed research facility as an experiment. Sure, his human father had taught him plenty about science, but other than that, his parenting skills had not been the best, to say the least. The lanky, grey anthropomorphic weasel let out a sigh, as he thought it best not to dwell on it. He lay back in his hammock after brewing himself a cup of tea, and pondered about meeting his old friends again sometime soon; it had been a little while since he'd seen them.... He closed his eyes and rolled over, hoping something might happen to spice up his now slightly boring life; it almost made him wish he were his old, small self again, impulsive animalism or no. Indeed, he'd done a lot more science back then before he got into the "routine" of normal life, and his current job packing shelves didn't exactly make the best use of his skills. He knew he didn't fit in in "tall" society, but he tried his best. He always remembered an old friend's words when he made the decision to make himself taller: "Remember, Rizzo; if you're taller, women will find you 32% more attractive."

    That night he dreamt of the time he feared that impulsive animalism might return. He was at a bazaar with his then-girlfriend, looking through some "wares". The shop owner had been a black-bearded, swarthy man dressed in gold-lined purple robes who had a propensity for appearing in clouds of magenta smoke. His name was Jazid, a bit of a lecherous old fellow, and Rizzo had never forgotten the warning he'd given him. "If you do not have it done by your 18th birthday..." Rizzo had never completed the task that Jazid had given him, but being the shady type that the man was, he presumed that he was just bluffing. After all, he was over a year late in his prediction, what was the likelihood it would happen any time soon?

    He awoke the following morning blearily, forcing the vague fear that the dream had inspired out of his mind, instead chuckling slightly at how silly that threat had been. He groaned, not wanting to get up, and rolled over. Weirdly, something jagged stuck into his side; he didn't recall leaving anything pointy in his hammock. Confused, he opened his eyes to check what the obtrusive object was, but as he reluctantly did so, he saw only blackness. He knew that he wasn't blind; he could see the vague silhouettes of the ungainly shapes surrounding him. Panicking now, he began to claw his way around what he was finding to be an enclosed environment. It definitely wasn't his hammock; that was safe to say. The shapes around him were mostly soft, making a rustling sound as he crawled through them, but there were occasional sharp jagged edges poking at him from time to time. There was also a pungent odour wafting around the claustrophobic space, and on top of this, there was the irritating buzzing of flies... He began to get a feel for what kind of place this might be. How did he get here?! He shoved the question to the back of his mind, intent on getting out of the reeking pit that he found himself in; the odour had intensified as he woke up further.

    There wasn't just the feeling of where he was that bugged him; his body felt a little different. He noticed that he took up very little space in what he now realised was a rubbish skip, compared to what he normally would. Was he smaller? Again, he pushed this question to the back of his mind, and as he finally reached a hard, metal lid. It took a lot more strength than it usually would have to lift it. The weakness gave him a strange.. Nostalgia, of sorts...

    As the hefty lid creaked open, a watery morning sunlight leaked into the skip. He shielded his eyes as they adjusted to the light and scrambled out into an empty alleyway. He could hear the hustle and bustle of city life, things like horse-drawn carts moving up and down streets. Looking at either side of the alleyway, he noticed that the walls contained back-entrances to people's houses; this must've been a residential area, so, as the questions that he had pushed to the back of his mind while he focused on getting out of that skip flooded back, he wondered if there must be somewhere nearby where he could ask where the heck he was and more importantly how he got here; maybe a pub would be perfect!

    Something was still nagging him at him, though. If he'd crawled out of a little skip like that, he'd be looking down at it, but he was looking up at it... It seemed disproportionately large. So maybe he was in a world where everything was bigger? Or maybe-- He looked down at himself and yelped. He confirmed his fear that it was actually the other way around! He now stood at about 2 feet tall; a skinny, scrawny specimen with scruffy grey fur, his claws were longer now, jagged, with the fur on his hands a little sparser, making some purplish skin visible. His tail too was now much shorter and thinner, sort of bushy, but in a tatty, unkempt sort of way. Slicking his hands through his ears as he often did, he also realised that they were proprtionately larger too, as they always had been. He looked at his wrist to check the time, but his watch had slipped off. He was also, he now realised, dragging his trousers along with him, as they were several sizes too big for him. Dragging himself over to a dirty puddle in the tarmac, he squinted through the glare of the sunlight to see his reflection, and could definitely confirm that he was his old self again, that is, a couple of years before he used the power of science to make himself taller. His muzzle was a little more pointed,he noted, and his eyes a bit bigger, making the despondant reflection staring back at him stand out all the more. It looked like Jazid's prediction had come late after all. Or maybe he was still dreaming? He slapped himself in face to wake himself up. It hurt! ...And he didn't wake up. Refusing to believe it, he scooped up some of the luke-warm water from the puddle and splashed it over his face. It only served to wake him up more. Nope, he thought, this was definitely reality.

    He let out a dejected sigh and his ears flopped down to the sides of his head; he at least had to figure out how this had happened, so, dragging his monstrously oversized trousers along with him, he made his way to the nearest pub. It wasn't too far away, just a couple of streets away. From what he could tell, this wasn't the wealthiest area in town, but the pub (very originally called "The Black Bull") was pleasant enough. It seemed to be a nice country pub, with limestone walls and a thatched roof. Although he'd lost his watch, Rizzo could tell from the emptiness of the streets that it must be very early in the morning (he hadn't seen a single person on either of the streets he'd walked down), so, as he pushed the door open gently, he just hoped there'd be someone in the building...
     
  3. As Rizzo poked his head through the door, he would find himself looking into a slightly cramped room. The lighting in here was a little gloomy, the inn choosing to rely on the light filtering in from the windows during the day. The interior of the building, as he'd expect, featured limestone walls, but also wooden floorboards, and a number of equally wooden chairs and tables on which half a dozen people were sitting, drinking frothy ales from glass mugs, and catching up on the local newspaper. Set upon the walls were the odd mounted deer antlers, paintings and other charming souvenirs.

    Across the room was a somewhat more modern-looking bar, made of polished wood and gold-painted decorations. The counter held a few beer taps sporting various logos. The bartender was standing on the other side of the counter cleaning glass mugs with an old grey cloth. Behind him were various shelves lined with scores of liquer bottles and other alcoholic beverages.

    Overall, it was pretty quiet.

    Seeing the tiny weasel standing there reading the room's description instead of actually doing something, the bartender frowned a bit and called over to him. "Well? What ye doin' just standin' there?"

    The man was white-skinned human, middle-aged and already quite bald, wearing a dark brown shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of grey trousers that looked like they'd seen better days.

    "Here fer a drink I s'pose? You look a lil young!" a toothy smile spread across his lips. "But don't wurry, we don't judge here."

    A couple of the guests turned to look at Rizzo as well, but other than a vague interest in his small size, they didn't pay much attention.
     
  4. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    The bar door swung open. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees as a very tall man entered, stepping over Rizzo as he went. His huge height was exaggerated further by a very slight frame. The man must have been underweight. He wore a simple gray suit, pants and waistcoat combination, black shoes, a white dress shirt, black tie, gray trench coat and gray fedora. Pale skin, black hair, gray eyes that would have been hidden by the rim of his hat if the man was of normal stature, there was possibly something familiar about this man.

    Standing on his right shoulder was a small weasel-like creature. He had dark gray fur, and was wearing a dusty black ski cap, a black jacket, and black pants. He was about two feet tall, and had a rifle slung around his back. This one would definitely be a lot more familiar then the tall man.

    The tall man approached the bar, with the weasel on his shoulder jumping off onto the bar itself. The tall man leaned down to look the bartender in the eyes.

    “Guess what old timer?” the tall man sneered, “It’s that time of the month. Pay up.”
     
  5. Rizzo gulped as he saw the other grey weasel. He recognised that vicious little animal as Flynt Incansia. He'd met him after he had ended up in the dimension of "The Lobby" but only after he was tall... Now that he was an equal size to him...

    Rizzo sweated a little in his fur; at least, he consoled himself, he mightn't recognise him like this. Rizzo had considered simply scuttling under a table until Flynt left (he was unfamiliar with how weedy being small made him feel!), but decided instead to do a little differently.

    Rizzo jumped up onto the bar (well, actually, he dragged his pants up onto the bar with him, which was a pretty awkward manoeuvre) next to Flynt and interjected loudly before the bartender could even reply to the weasel and fedora-wearing man: "Heey, there! I ahh.. Just woke up in a dumpster back there, and I was wondering if you could tell me where the Hell I am! Oh, don't worry; nono.. I haven't been like.. Sniffing anything.. I'd just appreciate some info! ...Also, do you have any pants I could use?"

    Rizzo grinned cheesily, edging away from Flynt slightly as he figured he was a little too close for his liking.
     
  6. The bartender looked visibly shocked to see these two people appearing, as if genuinely surprised by their appearance. His surprise soon turned into anxious annoyance, even as Rizzo leaped up on the table and made a spectacle of himself. "How much d'ye want this time...?"

    He put on a brave face, but his eyes gave away his worry. He glanced at Rizzo, then at Flynt, who he felt more comfortable talking down to. "If ye don't mind, I'm busy serving customers as ye can see, so you'll have to come back later..."
     
  7. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    "We want 150 gold coins this month," the fedora wearing man replied, "If we go and come back later the price will be 200 gold coins." The tall man smirked, shrugging. "If that works better for you, I'm sure we could work out a good time. It's only fair we charge you more, as we'll be defending you with no money to keep us confident you'll hold to your side."

    The weasel, in the meantime, glanced at the one who interrupted them. He sized Rizzo up, determining him to be a non-threat. "Beat it, garbage rat."

    The dark gray furred weasel reached down to the barrel of his weapon, currently facing the ground. It was slung in such a way to make blindfiring easy, simply swing it down to hip level and it would already be ready to point at what ever target needed pacifying.
     
  8. "Funny you should say that..." Rizzo started, but after glancing at the gun strapped to Flynt's back, figured it would be best to back off. He dragged his trousers off the bench with him, a chore that was really beginning to get on his nerves, and slunk under a nearby table until the commotion was all over and done with.
     
  9. The bartender ran a hand over his bald head nervously. Every month it was the same routine. These thugs were starting to break the bank. He considered talking to the city guard about the problem, however they don't seem too concerned about the affairs of commoners these days.

    "200?! Ye gotta be jokin', I can't afford that! Can' I just..." suddenly the bartender had a thought. An idea. "Erm..." he laughed nervously. "How about instead, I treat all o'ye to an all-ye-can-drink booze night. Whaddya say? It'll be on the house!"

    He rubbed his hands together idly, wondering if this could actually work!
     
  10. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    The tall man laughed. "It's a tempting offer, but the boss wants the money. 150 now or 200 later." The tall man turned away from the bar, and looked out the window. "You know how the streets are at night. It'd be such a shame if something happened to this wonderful pub because the owner just wouldn't pay to keep it safe." His voice had just a hint of malice in it.

    The dark furred weasel, in the meantime, watched Rizzo go. Once he was under the table, he glanced back at the bartender. "If that's the sort of customer you serve, mangy runts that stink of trash, maybe you just aren't worth protecting."
     
  11. Rizzo crept up from under the table and stood up to his full, menacing height of two feet or so, comically pulling his pants right up and having to stand there with one hand keeping them there at all times, to protest that statement; he'd been incensed enough by his past memories of Flynt's assholery in the other dimension without hearing this:

    "I just stumbled in here, actually! So he doesn't normally serve garbage rats, except for you, by the looks of it."

    Rizzo retacted and coiled a little, as if expecting some retaliation as he said this, his confidence waning. "But ahh.. Cut this guy some slack! If he can't pay today, maybe he could pay another day, yeah? What's the rush! Are you paying off an even bigger crime lord that -you're- afraid of?"

    Rizzo winced a little; he could really do without getting involved in Mafia affairs the moment he stepped into a different world, but, maybe it was too late now.
     
  12. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    Alexander smirked, this time actually looking amused. He looked at Rizzo, before glancing back at the bartender. "This one's after my own heart. Jumping to your defense like this, is he your pet? If you give it to us, I might be willing to drop the price to 125 gold. It's not often Flynt gets a playmate."

    "Oh, shut up Alex," the dark gray weasel snapped.

    The tall man, Alex, frowned, pretending to be hurt. "Aw, but Flynt, I'm just trying to get you some new friends. Why don't you go introduce yourself while I talk with our client?"

    "I'll introduce his face to the ground," the weasel, Flynt, grumbled. He dropped off the counter and glared at Rizzo. "You got a problem with me, you little runt?"
     
  13. "Err, now hold on there lil fella'!" the bartender stammered. "It's real nice o'ye to stick up fer me, but you better run along."

    As he said this, one of the customers in the bar, who were obviously beginning to notice the rising tension, stood up from his chair and casually strode over past Rizzo and Flynt to the bar. This man was a fox, with jet black fur, white around his muzzle, and dark green eyes. As if matching his natural colours, the man was also wearing a black and white tailcoat tuxedo, complete with leather gloves and a top hat. He also held a light wooden cane, which he gently tapped against the floor as he moved. He looked rather classy.

    Eventually, he made it to the counter and looked at the bartender, seeming to purposely ignore everyone else nearby. He held out a hefty palm-sized sack towards him. The insides jingled, clearly full of money. "Just paying off my tab. Have a nice day, sir."

    And with that, he tipped his hat, and turned to stride out of the room. As he began to leave, the bartender blinked, dumbfounded, and looked at the money he'd just received. That man didn't have a tab, he'd never been here before. And this was way too much for a single pint of ale. He looked up at Alex, rubbing the back of his head with an awkward smile, unsure what to say.
     
  14. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    Alex watched the black furred fox apparently pay off a rather large tab. Once the fox was gone again, he smirked. It didn't matter to him how the money came to him, as long as it came.

    "Looks like business is booming," he said. He held out his hand, "150 gold coins, then?"
     
  15. Rizzo had backed up, bumping into a chair-leg; what would he do if the darker weasel was looking for a fight? That guy had a gun, but, he couldn't just run, especially not in these pants.

    He paused as the tall black fox entered the room; he knew this fellow too, at least he thought he did, he couldn't be completely sure, the attire seemed a little out of place for him. This was another dimension after all, so he could be somebody completely different. He watched him come and go tensely, turning his gaze back on Flynt after he had left.

    So, Rizzo stared back at the beligerent weasel; he had been about to raise his voice at him before the fox had thankfully defused the situation a little, so he spoke a little more calmly. Whatever the case, if he were staying around here he might bump into these two quite often, and they didn't seem the friendliest duo; he'd be an easy target, he thought, and he needed something to keep them off his back.. So, hastily, he blurted out his idea: "I guess you've got your money now, but still, maybe I do have a problem with you. You're all toughness and ballsiness now, but I bet you wouldn't be sounding so tough without that rifle; in fact I'm fairly sure you'd cry your eyes out! Well, in fact, I know so, Flynt Incansia.

    Rizzo grinned the grin of an egoist as his bluffing plan unfolded in his mind.

    "You might be wondering how I know your name, Flynt! Oh yeah!" Rizzo jumped from side to side, pacily as he kept up his façade (Still keeping his pants up with one hand, of course), "Well, let's just say I know people! And they wouldn't be happy if I turned up dead!"

    "AND YOU!" he exclaimed, pointing dramatically at the fedora-wearing man who he had seen in his other dimension before, and, amazingly, he thought to himself, still remembered his name: "Alexander Silver! Oh yes! We know you too! So.. So just think twice before you set your rabid little attack dog on me!"

    Rizzo bit his lip: "Anyway, yeah! You wouldn't hit a guy who can't keep his pants up anyway..." he said as a last ammendment to his plan for not-being-beaten-up. He looked up at the bartender with a sort of watery-eyed, innocent look. He hoped they'd buy his bluff and that he hadn't dug himself an even deeper hole.
     
  16. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    Flynt twitched a bit. Rizzo's bluff had hit a sore spot. "You want to prove that?" he snarled.

    "Now now, Flynt, no need to make a scene," Alexander chuckled. The tall man glanced at the bartender, still with his arm outstretched. "He is correct, we do have our money. But perhaps we should bring him with us, he can talk to our boss about 'his people'."

    The dark gray weasel nodded, calming down a bit. "Yeah. The Madam knows every crime boss in this town worth knowing."

    "That she does," Alexander nodded. "So then little man, why don't you come with us?"
     
  17. Rizzo twitched nervously: "Take me back with you? Aheh, that won't be necessary. Just putting it out there! They wouldn't be too happy if you kidnapped me, either! Nono! They'd be incredibly -un-happy in fact, so..So that's like, a bad idea." he said in a shaky tone, waving a finger at them warningly.

    "Just.. Just leave with your money. And watch your back." Rizzo slipped back under the table a little; he could practically wring the sweat in his fur out of his ears, if he needed to.
     
  18. The bartender, still a little bewildered, opened the bag and rifled through it for a moment. There was definitely well over 100 solid gold coins in there...no doubt about it, it couldn't be a coincidence. Grinning a bit, he handed the sack to Alexander.

    However his face fell a little when the attention turned to Rizzo. He sighed, wondering what that idiot was doing. Now he'd attracted just the wrong type of attention. "Come on fellas, this guy's clearly drunk. Why dontcha cut'im some slack, eh? I'm sure 'e didn't mean t'offend ye."
     
  19. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    Alexander pocketed the sack of gold, smiling. "My, my, for a Drunkard to know our names we must be getting very famous indeed." He took his hat off, and preformed a mock bow for Rizzo. "Well then, Mr. Drunkard, as second in command of the Silver Syndicate, I will bit you good night." He then returned his hat, and offered his arm to the dark gray weasel. "Come Flynt, it's time to go."

    "I'll be back for you eventually," Flynt growled. He climbed up Alex's arm, stopping on his shoulder. With that done, the two left. The cold aura left along with them. In moments, it was as if it had never been there at all.
     
  20. Rizzo looked up at Flynt apprehensively as he spoke; he didn't doubt him. Ironically, it would be him who'd have to watch his back now. Jeez, that certainly backfired.

    As the fedora-wearing man and gray weasel left, the cold air gradually settled and was replaced with a sort of tension. Rizzo glanced up at the bartender guiltily, casting his eyes down to the ground again like a kid caught writing on the walls.

    "So, do you have any pants I could use..?" he asked, still not making eye contact.
     
  21. The bartender breathed a sigh of relief, wiping beads of sweat off his brow. "That was a close call, kid..." he narrowed his eyes and took a proper look at Rizzo. "Can' say I do...I don't recognise yer accent though lil fella. Y'from up north or somethin'?"

    ---

    Outside, unbeknownst to anyone in the area, a trio of figures had their gaze fixed intently on the inn. "Err...you sure that was the guy, boss?" came a grouchy male voice. "'E just looks like a homeless rat to me...what's so special about him?"

    "How'm I s'posed ta know?" replied a female voice, with a strong accent that sounds somewhat southern-american. "But that creepy caped guy is payin' us 40 gold coins fer this. I say we do it..."

    She opened her palm and looked at the odd little device that she held. It was a shiny black disc, bearing the design of a reverse pentagram, etched in milky white colouring.

    "I d-dunno boss..." came a third voice, a nervous, stuttering male voice. "Those things are evil...w-what if it comes after us too?!"

    The woman huffed. "We'll be fine, I'm here! We break it and run...y'all ready?"

    "You're the boss, boss..." sighed the first voice.

    "Right...here goes nothin'..." the woman swallowed nervously, as she took hold of both sides of the disc with each hand, preparing to snap it in two. "...Now!"
     
  22. Rizzo paused to think about his answer to the bartender's question for a moment. "Sure..." he said. "Up North." He pondered for a couple of moments more, wondering how to word his next question: "But coming from.. Up North, I have no idea how I managed to get all the way uhm, down here.. I woke up in a dumpster a couple of streets away and..Well; where am I, exactly? Do people often randomly wake up here like this?" He looked at the bartender quizically as if suspecting he were in on this somehow.

    As for the strange goings-on outside, Rizzo was too engrossed in his mission to find out where he was to notice or even hear, in spite of his rather large ears.
     
  23. "Can' say they do, kid!" the man shook his head and shrugged. "That musta been one heck of a party last night. Yer in Éiawind City, way down South."

    He took a moment to look at Rizzo more carefully. Even a simple bartender like himself could tell the weasel was hiding something. He wasn't a very good liar. "Y'got money? I'd be careful makin' yer way back home, the monsters 'round here've been gettin' pretty riled up lately. Reckon somethin's in the air, a real big storm comin' soon, I'll wager."

    He glanced over at the newspaper that sat on the bar. "In fact, i read about a group of adventurers who went 'n' visited the sewers a few days ago. 'Aven't been heard from since..."
     
  24. Rizzo shook his head and turned out his pockets; just white fabric, no money. It hit him then that he didn't have any means of buying food or drink, and it deepened his growing worry all the more.

    He tilted his head at the bartender: "Dodgy goings on, hmm..?" Rizzo scratched at the back of his ears nervously: "Anything that could... Awaken a dormant curse?"

    Rizzo's voice was shaky on those last two words; he didn't like what he was hearing.
     
  25. The man laughed. "I don't think so kid, that's just a bunch of superstition. Ain't no such thing as curses."

    Meanwhile, the ring of a doorbell was heard as the door to outside opened, a man entering into the pub. He looked like a soldier, covered from the shoulders down in armour plating and chainmail. A scabbard containing a sword hung from his waist, and his footsteps were heavy from all his gear.

    The bartender glanced over at him and smiled a bit. "How ye doin' Eric? Slackin' off patrol already?"

    Eric, a tall, lean white tiger with bright red eyes, returned the smile. "Shut your mouth and gimme the usual. Éiawind's safe thanks to me you know!"

    "Yeah yeah...thanks to yer General that is~" the bartender turned around to prepare a drink for the soldier. As he did so, he glanced back at Rizzo. "Anyway fella, been nice talkin' to ye but I got work to do. Good luck out there, aight?"
     
  26. Not seeing what else he could do, Rizzo reluctantly and wordlessly left the warmth of the bar to go back into the street, the bartender seeming occupied with his customers. What the Hell was he supposed to do now?

    Sighing, he found himself another backalley to sit in, making sure that nobody was around. The ground was wet and uneven; pretty uncomfortable to sit on. He unclipped his trusty Swiss army knife from his oversized pants and cut away the legs until they were short enough to reach only just above his feet. He then poked about 10 extra notches into his belt and tightened it up all the way. He looked down and smiled, admiring his innovative handiwork; at least he had a pair of pants now!

    As he left the backalley without the inconvenience of only having one hand free, he began to run on all fours to somewhere where he might be able to find some information. The bright morning sun had intensified, and it was getting rather hot and humid outside, with a spring dampness hanging in the air.

    After a while of searching through the still mostly empty streets, he realised it was rather hopeless. People weren't going to be able to tell him whether or not this was "another dimension"; they'd think he was crazy! So, he headed back to the Black Bull. He crept in through the door tentatively, not wanting to be an annoyance to the barkeep, who seemed to have gotten a few more customers since the hour or so that Rizzo had been wandering around in his confused daze. He crawled up onto the bar and tapped the bald fellow on the shoulder: "Ahh..Sorry to bother you again. That black fox that came in before. What was his name?"

    Rizzo could've sworn he'd seen the man before. If he was who he thought he was, he might be his only connection to the outside world.
     
  27. There was just one problem with Rizzo's plan. The bartender? He was gone. The soldier and the rest of the customers? Gone...the pub was shrouded in an eery silence, the only sound being that of his own breathing, and the faint hustle and bustle from outside as the street began to fill up with the daily pedestrians.

    What was that? A fluttering sound from inside the pantry behind the bar. The creaking and groaning of old wood greeted the weasel's ears as the pantry's door slowly swung open just a bit, as if the air were moving around the building. It was dark inside; evidently no windows beyond. Could they all be hiding in there, playing some immature game of hide & seek?
     
  28. ...At least that's what he hoped would've been the case. As he entered the ominously empty room, a glib expression came onto his face and his ears drooped. He stood there dejectedly for a few moments until the creaking, groaning sounds came to his attention; his ears immediately pricked up and his heart raced. Maybe the Mafia had come for him?! Panicking, he scrambled over the bar on all fours, knocking glasses off the counter clumsily as he gracelessly fell behind it.

    The cowering whimp of a weasel slid underneath a beer keg and looked up towards the pantry door; he could only just see it from his vantage point, but he kept his eyes focused on it unwaveringly nonetheless. His heart was pounding in his ears now; how could everyone disappear so quickly?! And who were the foreboding noises in the pantry being produced by?! He didn't want to find out, but he knew he might sooner or later.
     
  29. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    (OOC: My internet was out all day. Hope you don't mind if I break the tension by rushing to catch up.)

    BIC: The bar door swung open. In walked two figures. One was a crimson furred weasel humanoid. Easily six feet tall, and a bit muscular, the weasel also had black hair and a goatee of similar color, as well as a black tail tip. He wore a pair of baggy black jeans, held on by a brown belt. Even then, they were down just enough to reveal the pair of white boxers he wore underneath. The butt of a revolver stuck out of his right pocket.

    The other figure was an inch or so taller, a brown furred ferret humanoid. He was definitely a few years older then the weasel. He wore a red shirt underneath a navy blue duster, along with a black newsboy cap, black boots, and dark gray pants.

    The two were laughing about something, though the emptiness of the bar caused them to stop in their tracks. Not noticing Rizzo, the ferret looked around the room.

    "The hell is everyone?" he said.

    "We've been gone a couple of months, the place might of closed down," the red weasel noted.

    "Couldn't of, we would have received word of it," the ferret frowned, crossing his arms, "That old fraud better not of walked out on us. He sent us half way around the world to find that damn ale he wanted!"
     
  30. As the two newcomers made their way inside, bringing plenty of noise and banter with them, the door flew open and a trio of flying black blurs swooped into the bar, squeaking and chittering in a panic as they dashed around the room. Two of them immediately flew passed the heads of the weasel and ferret, escaping out into the sunlight.

    The third one perched itself on top of the handle of the pantry door, fluttering its wings and looking around, as if trying to collect its bearings. It was obvious that this creature was a bat of some kind, fairly large with a wingspan of about a foot long. But curiously, the creature seemed to lack any defining features. Almost like an illusion, a shadow, a silhouette distinguishable only by the acid yellow eyes that sat upon its head.

    Nevertheless, despite its dark appearance, it didn't seem to be threatening. It even looked directly at the tall ferret after a moment, and sat there, motionless. It seemed to be guarding the door, warning him not to approach.
     
  31. Rizzo was slightly unnerved by the creatures that suddenly flitted into the bar. A myriad of paranoid thoughts entered his brain linking these creatures to the disappearance of all the previous customers. What if these things had swooped in before and made them disappear?

    He slowly peeked his head out from under the beer keg anyway, looking up at the two musteline figures: "Ahh..About that. I was in here about an hour ago, and everyone was here; so there's no way this place has closed down." He paused for a moment and pointed at the perched shadowy bat worriedly "Uhh.. Th-Those things..What are they?"
     
  32. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    The two Mustelids ducked to avoid getting smacked by the shadowy bats. Once two of them were gone, and the third was no longer moving, the two stood up again, looking at each other, then at Rizzo.

    "I don't know what exactly they are, but where they've been, there is something I can be sure of," the ferret replied, "There's a Vampire about."

    The brown furred ferret reached into his coat, and pulled out an odd looking gun. It looked like a semi-automatic handgun, overall, but the cylinder in the middle was reminiscent of a revolver. He aimed at the door, and slowly started to creep forward.

    Meanwhile, the red weasel strode over to Rizzo. Once close enough, he knelt down to him. "You alright little man? We should probably get you out of here."
     
  33. Yellow eyes followed the ferret carefully as he strode through the door. The bat clearly wasn't approving of his actions, but at the same time he didn't seem to make any attempt to stop him.

    Inside the pantry, the ferret would find...well, pretty ordinary pantry-type things. Shelves lined with food and utensils. It was fairly dark in here, the only light being that which spilled from the door to the bar area. Overall, the room wasn't noteworthy in the slightest...

    ...Except for one thing. In the far corner, nestled between two of the shelves, was an old dusty full-length mirror. It was wooden and ornate, and looked very victorian in nature. Even through the thick caking of dust, it was reflecting the dark room quite clearly. One thing was for sure; that mirror did not look like it belonged here at all.

    While the ferret stood, the bat took off once more and made an attempt to land on his shoulder, perhaps in a last ditch effort to suggest he turn back.
     
  34. Rizzo nodded quickly at the red weasel: "Uhuh! I..I'm fine." As he studied his features, he thought he might have seen him somewhere before too.. But in this universe, he could never be too sure.

    When he heard that the bats were a vampire, his ears twitched.... It all made sense now; he thought he'd recognised that black fox! And he knew that the black fox he'd been thinking of was also a vampire, very gentlemanly, very upper class. He chuckled to himself a little (which would've looked pretty strange to the red weasel); the Victorian outfit seemed to fitting in retrospect.

    Rizzo jumped up onto the table and pointed at the bat that was still in the room with him: "Zenith! Is that you?!" He looked at the red weasel, worrying that he might be some kind of vampire hunter or something, and waved a warding hand at him: "Don't do anything! It's cool.. It's cool."

    Rizzo really hoped it was Zenith anyhow...
     
  35. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    The ferret glanced at the bat-like creature as it landed on his shoulder. The only thing out of place in the pantry was a giant, dusty, mirror. With a Vampire in the area, the ferret had been expecting a horde of corpses in the pantry. Thankful it wasn't so, he lowered the gun and wandered towards the mirror.

    Rizzo's shout brought him back out of the pantry before he could investigate. He looked at the small weasel, then at the larger gray one. "What the hell is he screaming about?"

    The larger weasel shrugged, "I don't know, a second ago he said he was fine."

    The ferret walked over to Rizzo, frowning a bit, "Kid, a Vampire is around, and this bar is missing its bartender, and possibly a few patrons as well. Enlighten me as to how exactly this is 'cool', as I'm tempted to alert the guard."
     
  36. The bat looked over at Rizzo curiously. After taking in the weasel's appearance for a moment, it chittered to itself before spreading its wings once more and taking flight, circling over their heads once before dashing out into the sunlight.

    Almost immediately, the cracking sound of glass erupted from the pantry, along with a deep, monstrous groan. A groan that began to make its way over towards the door to the bar. A faint red glow can be seen within.
     
  37. As the harsh crash erupted from the pantry, Rizzo let out an animalistic squeak and scurried under his beer-keg safe haven immediately. As the voice in his head called him all manner of profane synonyms for "whimp", an idea hit him. He jumped back onto the bar and ordered the red weasel to stay put.

    Then, his plan firmly cemented in his mind, he squatted down on all fours and began to sniff his way around the bar until he found a little ventilation shaft hidden away behind some of the fine furniture; shifting it out of the way, he unclipped his Swiss army knife and undid the screws on the shaft door. With that open, he shuffled into the vent and made his way up... He'd forgotten the advantages of being tiny.

    It was unpleasantly hot in the vents, but he continued his crawl regardless, up and up, until he was in the shafts running along the ceiling. Scuttling along, he eventually made his way above the pantry. He just hoped that whatever that thing was in there couldn't smell or hear him up here; he doubted it, as he was a pretty quiet crawler, but maybe his sweat would give off a rather malodourous vibe... Oh well, he could escape quickly if he needed to!

    With a building fear, he cautiously peeped through the vents in the ceiling to observe the possibly horrific goings-on of the pantry below. He held his breath and tensed himself to stifle any involuntary reaction to what he might see next...
     
  38. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    Both the ferret and weasel grabbed their weapons and took aim at the doorway. The noises coming from within the pantry didn't sound very pleasant, and the red glow didn't help much either. The two were prepared to grab the smaller weasel and book it, but before they could, the little idiot took off into the vents, commanding them to stay.

    "Run, or shoot?" the weasel asked.

    "Let's wait and see what our new friend thinks," the ferret answered.
     
  39. Rizzo would be greeted by a pretty disturbing sight. Floating about a foot off the floor, was a creature. Wait...not a creature per sé, but the mirror that had been spotted earlier.

    By now you can probably guess it was no ordinary mirror - it was some kind of monster, having sprouted bony grey arms with grotesque sharp claws. The body of the mirror surrounded itself with black and red flames, creating the sinister red glow. But if you looked carefully, you would be able to see an evil-looking face reflected in the glass. A monstrous, fangy grin with glowing red eyes, like some kind of hellish demon.

    The mirror monster let out another low groan, it's mouth open wide revealing a pitch black void within. It soon rounded the corner of the pantry and floated through the door into the bar room, where it spotted the weasel and ferret. Reaching out its arms like a zombie, the strange creature screeched and flew at them with its jaws open wide.
     
  40. Rex

    Rex Resident Furry

    No sign of the smaller Weasel, and what ever was in the pantry had made itself known. The crimson weasel repeated his earlier query, much louder this time: "Run or shoot!?"

    "Both," the ferret replied.

    When the mirror rushed them, they both fired their weapons. Two shots from each gun as the two made a beeline for the exit, and out to the street.
     

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