Dies Irae: The Mental Institution
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Sparrowhawke on 10-07-2012, 11:36:32</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>10-07-2012, 11:36:32</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/diesiraemainsign_big.png)<br>If you have not been invited to this game, please do not post in any of the Dies Irae threads.<br>This is a <span class="bbc_u">PRIVATE</span> game.<br>Thank you.<br><hr><hr>(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/saintjameshospital_2.jpg)</div><hr><hr><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><span class="bbc_u">Residents</span></span><br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">People who call this location their home:</span><br><strong>Chief</strong>, Vern — <em>Sparrowhawke</em><br><strong>Second in Command</strong>, ____ — <em>n/a</em><br><strong>Intelligence</strong>, Vkraci — <em>Flaming Dead Man</em><br><strong>Medic</strong>, ____ — <em>n/a</em><br><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><span class="bbc_u">About</span></span><br>This mental asylum is one of the few remaining intact buildings in Vergent City, and it houses the Mysli Tribe. Many onlookers — and even a few that are part of the Tribe — believe that the building is haunted by the many inhabitants that were left to rot during and after the war. This superstition — coupled with the layout of the building, itself — have made it a perfect base for the Tribe, whom are often likened to ghosts themselves.<br><br>The building is in amazingly good shape compared to many surrounding it; it’s the only one still standing out of its close neighbors. It had been around for many decades before the war as an old, tough building that was made to last. There are three sections to the building: the central block (three stories high) and the two wings on each side (both two stories). The wings consist entirely of the cells for the patients, and the central block contains the kitchen, dining halls, and store rooms.<br><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><span class="bbc_u">Available Resources</span></span><br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">Includes, but is not limited to:</span><br>&gt; Drugs — <em>Mostly sedatives and medication for illnesses such as anxiety, depression and psychosis.</em><br>&gt; Medical Supplies — <em>The mental hospital is equipped to deal with advanced first aid and minor surgery.</em><br>&gt; Restraining Equipment — <em>Straight Jackets, beds with straps, and even many of the locks on the cell doors are perfectly functional.</em>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>14-07-2012, 09:37:56</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_2.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_3.png)</div><div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/vracitheantipodum4.png)</div><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/Plague_Hunter_by_pyxelated.jpg)</div>It had been a long few days since Vkraci’s last return.&nbsp; He was tired, sore, and even bleeding in a few places beneath his black attire; blood-stained skin poked through the fabric in places, meaning Vkraci would have to take the time to sew up the holes if he didn’t want to risk standing out in the darkness.&nbsp; It wasn’t too difficult a task, but Vkraci was no tailor.&nbsp; The fabric was already riddled with weak stitches; it was starting to look like he’d have to get a new suit, soon.&nbsp; It was always a pain to make them, but at least he’d only had to make one helmet, so far.&nbsp; This one was incredibly resilient; the most he’d had to do was replace the lenses a few times when the wiring was shot or the glass shattered.&nbsp; Even the little headset attached to the inside had lasted.&nbsp; He was surprised, but happy.&nbsp; In that respect, anyway.<br><br>He limped in after entering various codes and almost literally jumping through hoops to not set off the various traps set for any Krovi clan intruders.&nbsp; He’d become accustomed to it, however, able to perform the motions in his sleep.&nbsp; He didn’t remove his helmet until he was safely hidden behind thick walls and his identity could remain anonymous.&nbsp; He had to admit that though he did love his disguise, the thing did get bloody hot, and taking it off was a relief like no other.<br><br>He hobbled to his room in the right wing; the cell was further down the corridor than most, but he liked it that way.&nbsp; He’d opted for a hand-scanner to secure his little dwelling; a quick press of his bared palm had the metal door opening to reveal a brightly lit, white padded room.&nbsp; It was spacious and as clean as anything could get in that world, just the way he liked it.&nbsp; He stripped completely naked after closing the door behind him — a panel had been installed on the inside to unlock the door from within — and hung the fabric over a metal rack, perched the helmet on the end, and carefully placed each of the weapons he’d taken with him in their respective slots.<br><br>He was sweaty as all hell and felt disgusting, quite frankly.&nbsp; The cool air of the room was pleasant after having spent days nearly constantly shielded by his costume.&nbsp; A look in his mirror offered a map of his new wounds: he’d gotten into a few tight spots and ended up killing much more than he’d thought, but the bounty was good.&nbsp; He was a rich man, depending on how one looked at him, though only the merchants he bought from had any inclination of such wealth, and just where it came from.<br><br>He opened a drawer of his dresser to retrieve a small satchel of soaps and other hygiene products.&nbsp; He felt a bit spoiled with them, even if he didn’t use them nearly as often as he’d like; they weren’t really <em>rare</em>, but they were a luxury nonetheless.&nbsp; You could loot them from many of the standing shops in the city — their supplies had lasted decades and were still in bulk, thanks to the lack of people around to use them — but that didn’t mean everyone wanted to take the time to retrieve them.&nbsp; Clean, comfortable clothing, a towel from another rack, and a rather large knife were gathered, then he headed off to the showers.&nbsp; He was, of course, still naked, but given the (mostly) trusted safety of the building, he couldn’t find himself caring, really.&nbsp; And he didn’t exactly have any shame for his appearance, either.<br><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_1.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2.png)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Languages</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Italian, English, Japanese, Chinese</span> &gt;</span><br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Tagging</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">—</span> &gt;<br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Location</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Entry hall, then bedroom; heading to showers.</span> &gt;</div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>22-07-2012, 11:45:06</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/VernRieder.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: copperplate gothic bold;" class="bbc_font">Vern Reider</span></span><br><strong>Location<strong> || <em>Dining Hall</em><br><strong>Tagging</strong> || <em>Open</em></strong></strong></div><br><hr><hr><br><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern’s eyes restlessly surveyed the land below him. The top of the hospital was a good vantage point, though certainly not the best. The Clock-Tower, not too far from here, was much better. But he wasn’t up there for the view, simply for the solitude. He loved his tribe, they were his family, but sometimes he had to be alone. He had to be strong for them, and at that moment he wasn’t feeling particularly strong.<br><br>Nightmares were still a common occurrence for him, dreams that started off happy, taking him back to the times before Harlan had died, before the split between the groups that existed now. But they always ended the same, Harlan dead, more dying because of the fighting between them; because of him, perhaps. But the other leader, Mack, could not be trusted. Vern discouraged his people from seeking out fights, much better to simply fade out of sight and avoid all the bloodshed, but it still happened far too commonly.<br><br>Vern sighed, continuing to run his fingers restlessly over the ring in his hands. He held it loosely, sometimes wishing it would drop from his grasp, be lost to him. Maybe he could let some of this go. But if it did, he imagined part of him, if not all would follow it down. He couldn’t do that to the others. <br><br>Movement in the corner of his eye had him moving quickly, the sight of his rifle steadily locked on the head of the person. His finger fell away from the trigger, however, as he recognized the form. It had been a while since they had seen Vkraci, almost long enough for Vern to wonder if he was even coming back, this time. A number of the others didn’t trust the man, wondered just what he was doing when he disappeared for such long lengths of time. But he had given Vern no cause to believe he was doing anything against them. And anything other than that, he didn’t really care to know. <br><br>The day was becoming bright, much brighter than it had in a while. There was even the slightest hint of an outline of the sun in the east. He imagined it might end up hurting his eyes later on, but it was no matter for now. He slipped down into the window beneath him in a quick, fluid movement. People would be up and about soon, if they weren’t already, and he would be somewhere they could find him if they needed him. He headed down into the kitchen, fetching himself something to eat and setting himself down in the corner of the room. The ring had made its way back onto a thin chain around his neck, hidden securely beneath his clothes. Few here knew he still had it.</span>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>17-09-2012, 04:25:55</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_2.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_3.png)</div><div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/vracitheantipodum4.png)</div><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/Plague_Hunter_by_pyxelated.jpg)</div>Vkraci was well aware of his surroundings, though most wouldn’t know quite <em>how</em> well aware, considering his ability to mask his perception.&nbsp; He’d coincidentally managed to time his exit of the makeshift bedroom with Vern’s entrance of the kitchen, though that meant little more than Vkraci’s knowledge of Vern’s position; he had no intention to stunt his trip to the showers with no reason other than to be sure the man knew he’d returned.&nbsp; Sure, he could take the time to gather any information he could from Vern, to do his job, but there was a difference between walking around the building nude and sitting in front of your commander in the same suit.&nbsp; He made note of his presence and headed off to the showers.<br><br>He took his time under the faucet, scrubbing at dirt and getting his hair untangled; he wasn’t much of one to make himself ‘pretty’, but he didn’t enjoy the feeling of grease, dirt, or old blood, either.&nbsp; Cleanliness was an amazing feeling and something that was sometimes so hard to come by, so he took it — and basked in it — when given the opportunity.&nbsp; He cleaned his mouth out when he finished bathing, then dressed and exited the showers, the towel over his shoulder and his bathing necessities in tow, only to be dropped unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter to allow himself freedom enough to find food in the cooler.<br><br>He glanced over toward Vern and gave a nod to him with tight lips and an expression of respect.&nbsp; He didn’t keep his gaze long, not wanting to interfere with any time the man had wanted to himself, though certainly wanting to make a point that he was ready for conversation by lingering with some distance.&nbsp; He picked up his food and made himself comfortable at one of the tables near the center of the hall, eating quietly and in no rush.<br><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_1.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2.png)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Languages</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Italian, English, Japanese, Chinese</span> &gt;</span><br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Tagging</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern</span> &gt;<br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Location</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Showers, then dining hall/kitchen.</span> &gt;</div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>18-09-2012, 11:23:14</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/VernRieder.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: copperplate gothic bold;" class="bbc_font">Vern Reider</span></span><br><strong>Location<strong> || <em>Dining Hall</em><br><strong>Tagging</strong> || <em>Vkraci</em></strong></strong></div><br><hr><hr><br><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern was more observant than he appeared when he sat there, idly picking at his food. As such, he didn’t fail to notice Vkraci’s entrance, nor the look that he was given. Undoubtedly the man would have information for him. He gave a light sigh, finishing the meagre amount of food on his plate before standing. There was no sense waiting, and perhaps a little human contact, even if it was with the strange man, might do him some good.<br><br>He moved over to the table where Vkraci was seated, slipping into the chair across from him. “Good to see you back.” There was a hollow tone in the man’s voice that he would have perhaps tried harder to hide had there been more people in the hall, but as most were still sleeping, he couldn’t be bothered with the effort. Sure, none of them expected him to be a bucket of sunshine, but this was different to his usual demeanour, there was less heart in him.<br><br>Vkraci was one of the few he trusted with these moods, and it was a relief not to have to pretend, even if just for a short while. He didn’t speak any more than this, knowing that Vkraci would understand what he wanted. Despite all the distrust that the others had for the man, no-one that knew of his work could deny that he was good at getting information. And thankfully the man didn’t beat about the bush in revealing it.</span>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>19-09-2012, 19:42:27</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_2.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_3.png)</div><div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/vracitheantipodum4.png)</div><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/Plague_Hunter_by_pyxelated.jpg)</div>Of course, Vkraci picked up on the change of Vern’s usual carriage, but that ‘usual’ was something he saw through anyway.&nbsp; Quite honestly, the closer Vern was to his natural self, the more comfortable Vkraci found himself around the man.&nbsp; He briefly lifted his gaze from his food to watch the man sit, more in acknowledgement for seeing him do so than to look at him; he had no need to see Vern’s face.&nbsp; A small nod was offered to the comment, allowing Vkraci to finish what food he had in his mouth and to push his meal aside before speaking with his commander.&nbsp; It wasn’t until then that he met the man’s gaze with his own green, sharp eyes.<br><br>“They seem to have come to a resting point,” Vkraci announced, his words accented and deep, though otherwise clear, “He has no immediate plan other than to reform and gather his supplies.&nbsp; He’s lost a lot of men, but his numbers still outmatch yours.”&nbsp; It was common for Vkraci to outcast himself from Vern’s ranks, though not because he didn’t want to associate with them; he simply didn’t feel very welcome among Vern’s men, though this didn’t come as a surprise to him in the least.&nbsp; “As always, however, he collects men that use brawn over intelligence…”<br><br>The most important news had been given, and thus Vkraci’s most professional demeanor began to relax.&nbsp; He retrieved his food and resumed eating, offering Vern a chance to ask questions depending on his desired course of action.&nbsp; He might’ve simply stated his own opinions of strategy, but he never thought it wise to come off as a smartass.<br><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_1.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2.png)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Languages</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Italian, English, Japanese, Chinese</span> &gt;</span><br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Tagging</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern</span> &gt;<br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Location</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Dining hall/kitchen.</span> &gt;</div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>29-09-2012, 22:41:03</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/VernRieder.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: copperplate gothic bold;" class="bbc_font">Vern Reider</span></span><br><strong>Location<strong> || <em>Dining Hall</em><br><strong>Tagging</strong> || <em>Vkraci</em></strong></strong></div><br><hr><hr><br><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">The mention of the man, as always, caused a notable tightening of Vern’s jaw. But also as usual, he pushed away the feelings that came with it. He didn’t do this to hide his feelings, it was instead simply because he couldn’t make a clear decision when he allowed them to run rampant through his mind. There was plenty of time to dwell in such things, but in matters of his people, he had to be impassive. He had to put them first, always.<br><br>As much as he hated it, that meant he couldn’t take offensive action against the other group, well, action against Mack if he was being honest with himself. His people were skilled, but even if they could somehow defeat the others, there would be too much bloodshed to justify. All he could do was hope that Mack thought the same way. <br><br>“Any thoughts?” He knew Vkraci wouldn’t speak without leave, but it was always worth seeing what he had to say. His perspective could, at times, lead to ideas he hadn’t thought of, and he would be a fool not to at least hear him out. At the moment, however, Vern imagined that the best course of action was to take advantage of the lull. Any opportunity to gather their own supplies with decreased risk to his people should be taken advantage of, after all.</span>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>02-11-2012, 02:12:38</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_2.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_3.png)</div><div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/vracitheantipodum4.png)</div><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/Plague_Hunter_by_pyxelated.jpg)</div>Vkraci didn't look up, rather unwilling to stop his meal a second time to answer.&nbsp; He at least spoke between bites and with a clear mouth.<br><br>"Regroup.&nbsp; Send a party for supplies," he glanced once toward his commander, then returned his gaze to his meal, "You could go after him, but they've been gathering supplies, already.&nbsp; It wouldn't be wise."<br><br>Vkraci never asked Vern about what happened; he didn't need to.&nbsp; Vern was an open book, so far as Vkraci was concerned, and though the past wasn't exactly written for everyone to see, it wasn't difficult to discern for those willing to look long enough.&nbsp; He knew Vern wanted to kill Mack, knew he wanted to take the chance to do it <em>now</em>, but respected him because he knew he wouldn't.&nbsp; When he spoke his advice, he felt much more like he was simply voicing Vern's thoughts, reassuring him of his path.<br><br>"His men are scattered; they won't attack unless provoked.&nbsp; I've made sure of it."<br><br>He took a final bite of his meal, then stood with a small 'scusi' to wash his bowl.<br><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_1.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2.png)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Languages</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Italian, English, Japanese, Chinese</span> &gt;</span><br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Tagging</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern</span> &gt;<br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Location</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Dining hall/kitchen.</span> &gt;</div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>18-11-2012, 08:47:40</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/VernRieder.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: copperplate gothic bold;" class="bbc_font">Vern Reider</span></span><br><strong>Location<strong> || <em>Dining Hall - Heading towards bedroom.</em><br><strong>Tagging</strong> || <em>Vkraci</em></strong></strong></div><br><hr><hr><br><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">The desire to kill that man for what he had done surpassed any normal desire, it was almost a need. The sight of the man’s body bleeding on the ground haunted his dreams. But with it came the thoughts of the bodies of his men, and Mack’s men. As much as he might hate them, he imagined at least a few were simply on the wrong side; if things were even that black and white. Those people didn’t deserve to die just because he couldn’t hold his hatred below their lives. And so he held back, put his leadership over his need for revenge.<br><br>And so he just nodded in response to Vkraci’s advice, knowing it to be good, and fully intending to go along with it. But for now his men were mostly resting. It was still early, and he hadn’t seen Vkraci in quite a long time. He had worked out a bit of an arrangement with the man, one that seemed to work out well for both of them. There were, after all, certain urges that the man needed to satisfy, and Vkraci was willing, not to mention confidential. <br><br>His eyes followed the man as he stood to wash his bowl, waiting for him to come back before speaking. “I’m going to my room.” His tone, and the choice of words, would be familiar. An invitation to follow if he wanted; he wouldn’t demand it, of course, but having known him so long it would be obvious what he wanted. The tension in his body as he stood and made his way towards his room would also indicate just how much he wanted it. He needed to get away from all the stress for a while, let out some of the frustration and anxiety in a way that wouldn’t hurt his people.</span>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>24-11-2012, 16:32:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_2.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_3.png)</div><div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/vracitheantipodum4.png)</div><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/Plague_Hunter_by_pyxelated.jpg)</div>Vkraci glanced over his shoulder at the man and offered a small nod in silent agreement.&nbsp; He would follow, but not after an unrelated task or two; going directly would be suspicious, and he also needed to center himself before either of them could be so vulnerable together.&nbsp; It was a strange bit of secluded rage that rose in the red-headed man when he knew he was about to give himself willingly, even though he did greatly enjoy it.&nbsp; He was a feral beast, at heart, and thus it took good binds and a man with feral instinct to tame him.<br><br>He finished with his small chore and headed off to do a few repairs of his armor.&nbsp; He didn't finish, and thus the task only wasted fifteen minutes.&nbsp; He figured that was enough time for Vern to prepare himself, and thus took only a minute more to buy a tin of weed from one of the other men.&nbsp; The plant was potent and irradiated, but it was Vkraci's guilty pleasure in the safety of his home.&nbsp; Finally, he headed to Vern's room, packing a small carved-bone pipe to smoke along the way.<br><br>Three quiet knocks were offered to announce his presence, his demeanor calm despite the rising excitement induced by the coming event and the drugs effects.&nbsp; He trusted Vern, otherwise he could never agree to such an act.<br><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_1.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2.png)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Languages</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Italian, English, Japanese, Chinese</span> &gt;</span><br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Tagging</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern</span> &gt;<br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Location</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Heading to Vern's room.</span> &gt;</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>25-11-2012, 05:58:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/VernRieder.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: copperplate gothic bold;" class="bbc_font">Vern Reider</span></span><br><strong>Location<strong> || <em>Vern's Room.</em><br><strong>Tagging</strong> || <em>Vkraci</em></strong></strong></div><br><hr><hr><br><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern felt a certain amount of tension slip away when he saw Vkraci nod in acceptance of the invitation. He quietly slipped away from the table, knowing that he wouldn’t follow immediately, and somehow both grateful and not for the fact. Of course, he didn’t want people to know, but the waiting was always the worst part of it. He moved into his room, removing some of his outer clothing while he waited. <br><br>The tension began to rise in the time it took for Vkraci to get there, and he was pacing by the time the man arrived. Now that the idea was in his head, it would take some sort of emergency to get his mind off it, and idle tasks seemed to do nothing to help. He knew the man would be there when he thought the time was right, however, so he would have to wait. At least patience was something he was used to, even when it irked him.<br><br>He was at the door mere moments after the light knock, opening it to face the other man. He had to resist the urge to yank the man inside, instead just moving out of the way so that Vkraci could enter, eyeing the pipe as he did. “Do you want to finish that, first?” Vern had no interest in the drug, himself. Though perhaps that was a lie, it would be nice to relax, but he couldn’t afford the luxury. His people needed him sober and aware, on the chance that something happen, that they need him. Just another sacrifice he made for them. Sometimes he wondered how long it’d take to kill him.</span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>26-11-2012, 20:31:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_2.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_3.png)</div><div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/vracitheantipodum4.png)</div><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/Plague_Hunter_by_pyxelated.jpg)</div>Vkraci's lax gaze lifted to his commander as the door opened and he pulled the bone pipe from his mouth just long enough to respond.&nbsp; "No, sir."<br><br>Quite honestly, he'd prepared himself to submit to Vern the moment he crossed that threshold, and that pipe was no precious object to him.&nbsp; He stepped forward and hit the button for the door to let Vern know he was ready for whatever he was in the mood for.&nbsp; He half expected Vern to rip the pipe from his grip, to attack him thanks to all that pent up emotion, and he hoped for it.&nbsp; The excitement was still strong in him, heart racing slightly and body vulnerable to approach.&nbsp; He had the start of a lump in his pants, to top it off, accented by his quietly labored breathing.<br><br>He was more than ready; he was asking for it.<br><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_1.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2.png)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Languages</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Italian, English, Japanese, Chinese</span> &gt;</span><br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Tagging</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern</span> &gt;<br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Location</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern's Bedroom</span> &gt;</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>28-11-2012, 07:38:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/VernRieder.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: copperplate gothic bold;" class="bbc_font">Vern Reider</span></span><br><strong>Location<strong> || <em>Vern's Room.</em><br><strong>Tagging</strong> || <em>Vkraci</em></strong></strong></div><br><hr><hr><br><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">The instant the door closed, a change came over the leader of the Mysli clan. Everything civil and composed seemed to drop away, leaving a raw, feral being. His pain and need were both equally obvious and the only thing that made him hesitate was a remaining need to make sure it was what the other man wanted as well. That need was quickly satisfied by the sight of him, however. He could read the subtle hints, the rapid breathing, and the less subtle lump growing in his pants. <br><br>The hesitation lasted mere moments, and as soon as it passed he was moving. He would only give the pipe attention if it was in the way of his destination. He surged forward, a hand moving up to tightly grip at Vkraci’s shirt, using it to push the man violently back against the wall. The rest of his body quickly caught up the hand, pressing tightly against the man’s body and crushing their lips together hard enough to cut his own with his teeth. <br><br>He’d tried, to no avail, to deal with his needs in less violent ways, but anything less than this was unbearable. It made him think too much of Harlan, and such thoughts reduced him to a state he couldn’t afford to be in. It seemed as if Vkraci understood all this, and he was beyond grateful to the man that he accepted all of this, seemed to enjoy it, even. He craved it, needed it, and it helped him stay sane and reasonable in the times between. In these moments he released all the fear, despair and anger.<br><br>His other hand came up to grip at Vkraci’s hair, tangling in it and yanking, not quite enough to pull it out, but certainly enough to cause pain. Any noises that Vkraci made wrought moans in response, and an eager need to bring out more. He forced his tongue into the other man’s mouth, probing for a few moments before pulling back. He hungrily sought out any piece of flesh he could get into his mouth and bit down, drawing blood as he ground his hips against the other.</span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>30-11-2012, 21:50:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_2.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_3.png)</div><div align="center">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/vracitheantipodum4.png)</div><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/Plague_Hunter_by_pyxelated.jpg)</div>Vkraci waited patiently for Vern's ferocity to kick in, his expression and posture unchanging, sans what little it took to draw smoke from the pipe between his teeth and blow it from the corner of his mouth.&nbsp; The sweet scent was strong, though the drug was quick to evaporate once aflame, and thus a contact high was thankfully impossible.&nbsp; It was for this reason Vkraci felt no guilt smoking it within his commander's range, even so close.<br><br>Under normal circumstances, the man would be quick to calculate, avoid, and counter such an aggressive approach, but his diluted focus made the movements like silver knives through thick mud and fog, and his body welcomed the sudden rush and sensations of entrapment.&nbsp; His lips parted and the pipe dropped to the floor, just in time for Vern's muscle to invade his gaping orifice.&nbsp; His fingers pressed tightly against the door as their mouths remained interlocked, though moved instead to grip Vern's arms tightly when the bite came.<br><br>This was what he loved about sex with Vern.&nbsp; The man was an animal, and it made Vkraci feel his commander was worthy of his submission.<br><br>He pushed himself against Vern's form, both as a means of taunting him into more dangerous territory and continuing to show he wanted it.&nbsp; His noises were quiet, for now -- barely audible above a soft sigh or light gasp -- but they'd grow with time as he fell deeper into pleasure and <em>need</em>.<br><hr><hr><div class="floatright">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2_1.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/flamingdeadman/Elliquiy/corners3_2.png)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Languages</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Italian, English, Japanese, Chinese</span> &gt;</span><br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Tagging</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern</span> &gt;<br>&lt; <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Location</span> || <span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern's Bedroom</span> &gt;</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Dies Irae: The Mental Institution</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>01-12-2012, 00:13:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/VernRieder.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: copperplate gothic bold;" class="bbc_font">Vern Reider</span></span><br><strong>Location<strong> || <em>Vern's Room.</em><br><strong>Tagging</strong> || <em>Vkraci</em></strong></strong></div><br><hr><hr><br><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Vern’s tongue flicked hungrily over the wound in Vkraci’s mouth, tasting at his blood and giving a low groan. He felt the man’s hands clutching at his arm and welcomed it, even if nails bit into his skin. Perhaps he would even enjoy it more if they did. He kept the embrace for a few moments, still clinging to him desperately, before pulling away.<br><br>His gaze was intense, and only broken by the removal of his shirt, which he almost ripped off, testing the integrity of the fabric. The removal of the shirt showed his body, which appeared much younger than his face, apart from the few scars marring his skin. He tossed it aside, his hands moving to quickly undo the bindings of his pants. Once they were free, he pulled Vkraci back into a deep kiss, gripping his body tightly and pulling him further into the room. <br><br>The embrace was broken once more as he threw the man onto the bed, and it only took the amount of time needed to remove his pants before he was following, bearing down on the man with a violent passion. As always, he was tempted to literally rip the clothes from Vkraci’s body, but he resisted the urge. Still, it was far from gentle as he pulled the clothing away, even raking his nails up the man’s chest as he pulled away the shirt.<br><br>Once the shirt was gone, Vern moved his lips elsewhere. He started with the jaw, biting lightly only so that they wouldn’t leave a mark, before moving downwards, along his neck and to his shoulder. The instant he got to a point normally hidden by clothing, his bites became harsher, digging deeply into skin, occasionally biting through it. His hands then began to pull at Vkraci’s pants, fumbling from time to time in his urgency.</span>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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