Vegas After Dark: Prequel
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: RedKnight on 16-08-2022, 17:05:43</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Vegas After Dark: Prequel</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RedKnight</strong> on <strong>16-08-2022, 17:05:43</strong>
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				This thread allows people to write snippets about their character and/or the world. I'll be putting little bits and pieces here.<br><br><strong>The Lord of Shadows and Blood.</strong><br><br>He claims to be the bastard child of the Queen of Ice and Darkness. A claim that the Queen neither supports nor denies. His penchant for Blood has earned him a following among the Dark Fae and some powerful enemies among the Light Fae.<br><br>The rumor is, that he's coming to Vegas.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Vegas After Dark: Prequel</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ihinka</strong> on <strong>16-08-2022, 20:08:14</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span class="bbc_u">A status-3 NPC wants your territory and is working to get it</span></span></div><br><em>Location: Sunset Park</em><br><em>Time: Midday</em><br><br><div align="center">(https://media.lasvegasweekly.com/img/photos/2020/08/12/Best_Park_by_Christopher_DeVargas_t1000.jpg?c76bf34eada957f64a0b14990027a576ff9bf379)</div><br><br><div class="floatright">(https://americanbutler.ru/uploads/images/parks/las-vegas/sunset-park/sunset-park-las-vegas-01.jpg)</div>Blaine sat at the edge of the pond. Her bare feet submerged in the cool water. Soft giggles and gasps left her lips as a variety of ducks and geese swarmed her. Frolicking about, nipping at the food she dolled out, as well as her feet. It was such a treat. Not only being able to safely enjoy the park amenities once again. But also the attention of the birds. Considering they were in the presence of a predator. If nothing else, Blaine was proud creatures did not perceive her as a threat right off the bat. Whatever alpha was within her, it was obviously one willing to coexist with prey. Blaine searched her soul and found her wolf calm, content. Completely happy to observe the ducklings quacking about through Blaine's eyes. There was no restless urge to give chance. To feel the rush of adrenaline from chasing prey. There was a yearning. But that was something else. It had no baring on the here and now.<br><br>The mere fact that Blaine could now sit quietly with the ducks, smiling happily, was a huge success. Since only a few months ago she was a still sullen, depressed shadow of her former vibrant self. Losing her aunt and Clea had made her so. Pulling herself from the bottom on her own had been the second hardest thing she'd ever done, aside from burying her loved ones.<br><br>Blaine's ears twitched with the sound of twigs snapping behind her. But she stood still, keeping quiet she'd been alerted of the approach. When a tiny body torpedoed her from the back in an attempt to launch her into the pond, Blaine swiftly turned in the last second and gently engulfed the giggling child into her arms.<br><br><strong>"Tryin' t' dump yer alpha in the lake, ye rascal, are ye?"</strong> Blaine tickled the little girl as she shrieked and giggled in delight. Dwayne, Illona's single dad was standing a few steps behind, smiling nervously.<br><br><strong>"S-sorry, Miss Blaine. I t-tried to stop her. Bu-but she loves to play 'wolf pack' with you too m-much."</strong> Dwayne's subtle stutter was nothing if not endearing and Blaine grinned wide at him.<br><br><strong>"Dwayne... I've told you a million times, it's just 'Blaine'. No 'Miss', no 'Ma'am'. Just Blaine!"</strong> The were alpha said as she hoisted the still wildly giggling girl up and stood to her full height easily. The tall, thin as a waif man was Blaine's next door neighbor. It was how she and the little girl, squirming in her arms, had bonded up to the point to playing 'wolf pack'.<br><br>Before the conversation could take hold Blaine's hackles rose so fast Illona fidgeted within the circle of her arms. A frown of uncertainty marring her cherubic features.<br><br><strong>"Now ain't that adorably quaint!"</strong> A male voice announced in a debonair sounding southern drawl.<br><br><div class="floatleft">(https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BNjAyYmZlNTYtOWVjYi00OTM0LTk4NGItOTVlZTE3MmVkZDgxXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNjc3NDgwNzU@._V1_.jpg)</div>Dwayne seemed to also sense something was off as he quickly accepted Illona, when Blaine transferred the fussy girl into his outstretched arms. Facing the direction the voice had come from, the ex-Coastie, turned carpenter, was greeted by one of the most unassuming men she'd ever met. Dwayne's clipped steps in the opposite direction gave Blaine some piece of mind. While the man was the epitome of unassuming, the quiet danger that radiated from him could not be ignored. Certainly not by Blaine. And especially if a normie like Dwayne had picked up on it too. Illona was another matter. Kids are generally more intuitive to things such as this than grown-ups.<br><br>But, back to the man. At least three inches shorter than Blaine, he still managed to somehow look larger than life in his blazer, tie and gold-rimmed reading glasses. He was sporting proudly, it seemed, a receding hairline and a goatee. He appeared, in every sense of the word, the very opposite of a powerful alpha. And yet, it was precisely what he was. This fact did not bother Blaine. Alpha weres were not like Highlanders. It was no like 'there could be only one!' The troubling fact was what was an alpha such as him doing in her territory?<br><br><strong>"Aw, I do hope they didn't leave on my account."</strong> The overly-sweet twang lodged itself in Blaine's ears as she faced off with the other alpha. <strong>"Now, now... don' be gettin' all prickly with me, sugah."</strong> The man raised his hands in an amicable gesture. <strong>"I ain't come here to make a fuss. I've just been hearin' all those lovely things about your quaint lil neighborhood..."</strong> Honey dripped from the man's lips, but his eyes could cut steel in two. <strong>"And I just had to come and see, you understand! I am a lover of things brought back to brilliant life from the clutches of mediocre obscurity. You see, Miss Moore, I am a fan."</strong> The man touched his forehead as if tipping a top had to her in salute. <strong>"I have a couple of your fine carvings as well as a number of fine cabinets restored back to their old glory by your fine craftsmanship."</strong> The man paused. Looked Blaine straight in the eyes. Blinked slowly. Smiled even slower and continued. <strong>"I hope you understand... I simply must have more!"</strong><br><br>The meaning behind his words, while veiled to the rest of the world, was crystal clear to Blaine.<br><br><strong>"We don't always get to have what we want."</strong> Blaine replied in the same civil, cordial manner. However powerful this man was, Blaine was not intimidated. Not after growing up with Loup Garou.<br><br><strong>"You know, people keep tellin' me that. And I keep provin' them all wrong. Wouldn't you know!"</strong> Again the man tipped his imaginary hat at Blaine, turned and simply walked away.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Vegas After Dark: Prequel</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Eliza</strong> on <strong>17-08-2022, 23:59:35</strong>
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				<em>Date: April 21, 1838</em><br><br>It's my birthday today and the first time I'm writing in a journal because of what my dream was like the night before. I saw a great celebration, even though I thought humans are more excited about their children turning 18 instead of 17. I guess we underdwellers have different traditions and customs. My parents and even the elders seem to be expecting something great in my future or so they hope.<br><br>Oh, right, my dream. I dreamt of a great celebration, but something goes awry. Someone decides to celebrate with a bunch of light and sound and lights an relatively harmless firework. He burns his hand when it goes off prematurely. I so did not want to see that right before my birthday.<br><br><em>Date: April 22, 1838</em><br><br>This is freaky. My dream from a couple nights ago, the one where someone burns their hand while lighting a firework... I happened to be within sight of it and then it happened... exactly how it was in my dream.<br><br><em>Date: May 29, 1838</em><br><br>The word is out and I think it was my parents. While not thinking it, I received a vision after I was scratching my forearms and back for over an hour. It was a trivial thing really, where my father would say something to my mother. I tried to warn him not to say it, but he did it anyway, and when my mother lashed out at him like I said she would, I guess he was amazed at my foresight. Again, I was not thinking of it and this happened only a few days ago.<br><br>Today, the elders visited my house, saying they were expecting a gift like mine to arise in the population. It would spell greatness in the coming future. It would be an honor and a great responsibility. Isn't there a human saying that there comes huge responsibility with great power? I don't think having visions of what will happen the next day is such a great power.<br><br><em>Date: November 1, 1838</em><br><br>First day as a priestess. It was an eye-opener for two situations. The first was informative. A gift like mine has not been seen in hundreds of years, though they were tight-lipped about the previous... Oracle... as they called him. The priestesses-in-training told me they are brought up in this field of study at a young age, hoping they could somehow inherit this gift once they turned of age. I think they are jealous of someone who had no interest in the gift in the first place.<br><br>They showed me tools that they employed to help encourage visions to happen, rather than having them randomly occur. Some used popular divining tools such as tarot cards, dowsing rods, and crystal balls, but none of them tickled my fancy and none of them “spoke to me,” like the other priestesses said they would.<br><br>I took a browse of their storehouse to see what unique tools I could use to bring forth visions. I picked two. The first was what they called a type of grimoire, a book used for spell-casting. This was not a traditional book with a front and back cover, a spine and numerous pages. This was more like a scroll, at least it rolled up like one. When it was unrolled, it somehow became perfectly flat, even if laid on an uneven surface. It's construction and method of use was a series of rotatable circles. Different configurations formed different types of runes across the surface. I would need to study what these runes are and what they do. The second was a pair of metal balls that supposedly came from the continent of China. When struck together, the balls chimed, triggering something deep within me. They were supposed to be rotated around each other in a user's hand and when I tried it, the chimes seemed to resonate and almost trigger a vision. I stopped before anything happened.<br><br>As a show of my abilities, the head priestess wanted me to try my luck at inducing a vision. I laid out the grimoire and rotated the rings so they formed a set of runes, runes that I had no knowledge of their meaning. The head priestess told me to clear my mind of any thoughts and emotions and once I was devoid of anything in my mind, I was to slam my hands upon the grimoire. Just like she had said it would, it worked.<br><br>My eyes opened (though, in actuality, my eyes went white to those who were observing me) and what came to me was a different vision. It was not trivial and surely not happening the next day. It was filled with chaos, and confusion, and maybe even the sight of molten rock. That is the extent of what I would record in this diary entry, as I did not even divulge what I saw to the priestesses.<br><br><em>Date: December 25, 1938</em><br><br>It's supposed to be a time of celebration in the human world and as the days go by, I feel like it is calling me. This gift I have is more like a curse, as I continue to see tragic things rather than trivial, joyous moments. The elders are expecting something great from me, but what I have seen seems more like doom for my people. We are supposed to be Lemurians, as great as the Atlanteans, but from what I have foreseen, we would be more like lemmings, unknowingly falling to their demise. I believe chaos and confusion would happen right as I tell them this vision and that is why I'm deciding to withhold them of such information. They are better off not knowing.<br><br><em>Date: January 21, 1939</em><br><br>A good friend of mine and someone who was arranged to be wed to me is helping me with my exile. The more I'm here, supposedly under Mt. Shasta in the Alta California territory belonging to Mexico, the more the elders pester me with requests of the future. I think they are distracted with my upcoming wedding with Toshi, at least that is what they currently call him. My name will probably be different upon our union, but the both of us do not want that.<br><br>He probably has genuine love for me. He didn't like arranged marriage as much as I abhorred it. To say that your fate is pre-destined. I have only seen what is destined for Lemuria and only Toshi knows the details and believes with me gone, he could help set it right and prevent it from happening. He is worried that I'm exiling myself to the human world. I would be called an Earthroamer, something no parent would want their child to become. Tomorrow is the day, the day I make the trek to the portal to the surface of Earth.<br><br><em>Date: March 27, 1846</em><br><br>I almost forgotten this diary and it pains me to be reminded of why I'm a young Earthroamer. The last seven human years was wild and nowadays, there is a war between the United States and Mexico. I have found refuge among the indigenous peoples of America. The foreigners incorrectly address then as Indians and somehow the name sticks, out of ignorance. I have learned to live off the land, but more of that land is being encroached by the incoming battles and the wagon trains of settlers from the east.<br><br><em>Date: February2, 1848</em><br><br>This two-year long battle between the United States and Mexico is over, or so I hear. Living outside of the battle I could only imagine the horrors the soldiers faced fighting their enemies. The land that is called Alta California is still a wild place and the elders of the tribes I find refuge in forbid any of their tribe, especially the women, to go near any of the gatherings of miners. There is talk of gold being found and flocks of people are rushing to stake their claims. Gold is nothing to me, as there are statues honoring some long-lost individuals made entirely of gold. Maybe these people should invade Lemuria instead of California. If they could only navigate the portal to our lost continent.<br><br><em>Date: September 1850</em><br><br>To think I could hide with the many tribes I've encountered on my exile and not see any of these men from the United States encroaching on their territory. Stories say the indigenous peoples are occupying land that they want and they will do anything to stake their claim. They are such a ruthless bunch.<br><br>I am writing this in a peculiar cave in the mountains of what is called the Sierra Nevada. My hosts are a peculiar bunch and though they do not talk, I can understand them very well. The folk living in the world call them by many names and the one that sticks here in America is Bigfoot. Yes, they have big feet and they tower over my smaller near-human frame, but they are more skittish than anything. Even squirrels cause them to frenzy.<br><br>I unfortunately was part of a group of native women who were ambushed by a group of settlers. They had killed their chief and their husbands and would soon be violated and raped. One decided to fight, encouraging the others to do so. They would be shot like animals and I was the only one to make it out alive, but barely. The gunshot wound to my leg is still healing. These creatures treated it with natural ingredients, but the healing process is long, as I do see myself in these circumstances for a good year or two. The winter is coming and thus the creatures have gone into a special process of hibernation. As an act of goodwill, they provided me a place to hibernate as well and it's done not like bears do. It's more like how frogs do it.<br><br>I'm set into this pool of gel-like liquid and once the winter passes over, the liquid freezes putting me and the creatures in suspended animation. I think I'll wake up some time in 1851.<br><br><em>Date: Spring of 1900</em><br><br>When I wake, the cold is bitter, though I'm blanketed by fur rather than the shaggy mane of those creatures. I feel like I'm in the back of a wagon and when I open my eyes, I see the canvas of a wagon. How long did I slumber? And why is there no cave around me? And whose wagon am I on?<br><br><em>Date: April 21, 1900</em><br><br>It's my birthday today. My caretaker, a banker in the city of San Francisco, who “rescued” me from a cave in the thaw of spring, thinks I'm around the age of 21. I'm actually 79 human years old, but yes, I may have the energy of someone around 21. The wound I suffered almost fifty years ago is gone and there is not even a scar to remind me of what came to be known as the Trail of Tears. I sob in the bathroom thinking of the families lost in that time. All because modern folk wanted land and would do anything in their power to claim it for themselves.<br><br>Since telling my caretaker, whose name is Mr. Vega and is 40 years old, that it is my birthday, he has gathered a small party to celebrate. The feast brought in is called a potluck and had food from cultures I only heard about from other Earthroamers, but they were Earthroamers out of duty, not by choice. I think I liked the Filipino food the best, from a former neighbor of Mr. Vega, a Miss de la Cerna. She is a single mother with one child, Freddy, who is four years old. Out of all the partygoers, it is Freddy who stays near me, like a puppy would. As a passing comment, as I carried Freddy in my arms as I walked about the flat, Mr. Vega said I looked like a mother. I could only smile at the compliment.<br><br><em>Date: April 21, 1906</em><br><br>Today was supposed to be my 80th birthday, but this year there was no celebration. I should have used my powers for good. Shortly after the celebration last year, I received a chilling vision when putting Freddy to bed. His mother and Mr. Vega are actually courting and Freddy has readily accepted Mr. Vega as his adoptive father. I think that makes me his auntie. Auntie Danielle. It sounds nice for the moment.<br><br>The vision was of Freddy in the ruins of a collapsed building, surrounded by fire. And that is how I saw him three days ago. Mr. Vega had perished in the arms of Miss de la Cerna, who also succumbed to smoke inhalation, but fortunately, Freddy was in the next room crying. I picked him up and carried him across the city, finding refuge in a school that was turned into a makeshift hospital. Now he is like me, orphaned in this crazy world.<br><br><em>Date: November 29, 1927</em><br><br>It's getting hard to conceal my identity to those close to me. Freddy and I have been living together. While I ready the apartment and cook his dinner, it's apparent that I'm no longer his supposed aunt. As a Lemurian, I wouldn't age past this youthful look until I'm about five hundred years old, but by then, I would look like the aunt I was supposed to look like. By then, Freddy would have died some three hundred years earlier. I'm thinking of leaving. As an Earthroamer, I think that is my fate, never able to find a home in this world. He is a grown man, 31 years old and already a banker like his father, Mr. Vega, was. He stays quiet about my youthful look, though he threatened to marry me one of these days. On the outside, it would look like we could be a happy couple, but I senior him by about 80 years or so.<br><br><em>Date: December 23, 1927</em><br><br>It was so heartbreaking leaving Freddy a couple days before Christmas. I hope he doesn't take it hard. His father and mother left him 21 years ago and now his constant companion for the last two decades has abandoned him. The more distance I put between him and myself, the better, I believe.<br><br>I'm taking a boat to Hawaii, which should look nice this time of year, despite it between wintertime.<br><br><em>Date: December 7, 1941</em><br><br>I knew my exile would be hard, but as I have been living among the humans, I am also living through their tragedies, their struggles and even their wars. There was a massive attack on Pearl Harbor today. So many dead, the majestic ships that were stationed in the bay, either in flames or sunken to the sand below. From what I hear on the news, there are still sailors trapped in the hulls of those ships.<br><br><em>Date: February 1942</em><br><br>I was a single nurse living in Hawaii. I had a proper way of speaking and did not have an accent at all, but with my physical features having a resemblance to many Asian Americans, they rounded me up with them and transported countless Asian families to the mainland.<br><br>The U.S. Leaders thought among the Asian American families living in Hawaii and the West Coast, there could be saboteurs and spies leaking information to the Japanese, whom President Roosevelt declared war on a couple months ago. I was put into an internment camp in California with other single women.<br><br><em>Date: New Years 1945</em><br><br>I cannot believe it. To spend three years in this camp, under curfew and threat of being taken advantage of by the guards, is utter hell. It was more like prison. After New Years Day, they ended the internment camps and released everyone. I had nowhere to go, but waiting for me outside the gates was a familiar face. It was Freddy, who now likes to be addressed as Mr. Vega, like his adoptive father. While I have not aged, as he had expected, he is nearing the age of 50. He is rich and owns a large house, but something is missing. He doesn't have a wife nor any children. He says he stayed single and celibate, not for religious or health reasons. It was because he was hoping he would find his first love. He says he imagines the century of strife I had been through and yet to see me coming out of this camp with my head still attached is a good sign. He desires to be like Mr. Vega to his mother in 1905. A benefactor.<br><br><em>Date: Summer of 1950</em><br><br>Mr. Frederick Vega and I are a happy, yet reclusive couple. I'm relegated to hiding in his estate, making his home comfortable and helping out the cooks with his meals. The California climate of the San Francisco Bay is just right for me to grow orchids, which fill his backyard with color. He looks past the century or so I have been living in this world and chooses to love me like a normal human woman, one whose youth never grows old, even as his body becomes weaker every coming year. I'm surprised even in his old age, he still has the stamina as a 25-year-old. Maybe my near-eternal youth encourages him to become the same, despite the physical limitations of humans.<br><br>We make love when the need arises. He only wishes to be happy and make me happy. He does not wish for children, for the thought of bringing hybrids into this world would mean his kids would far outlive him. We use protection every time and if it seems like I've conceived, we choose to remove it as soon as we see the signs. Our love would probably only last until the end of the millenium, but that is but a long time away.<br><br><em>Date: September 11, 2001</em><br><br>The World Trade Center in New York was attacked. Planes were colliding into the towers, sending everyone running. Those two iconic buildings collapsed in fire and rubble and people are saying there are little to no survivors. While news of this and also the Pentagon are on every news channel, today I'm not looking at any television. Frederick Vega died a week ago from natural causes and today was his funeral. Only the staff from his house and myself attended, but I believe he wouldn't have it any other way. He believed his father and mother was there in spirit, as his spirit rose to meet them. They must be watching me as I carry their memory of their lives and goodwill into the coming age. It's a new day. It's the 21st century. It's only going to get crazier.<br><br><em>Date: September 18, 2001</em><br><br>Grieving is hard, yet while I'm grieving, I'm distracted from my gift, something that I've suppressed with cold showers and trips to the sauna. I've been unproductive, a recluse in Mr. Vega's estate, which was willed to me. The staff still cooks the meals, tends to the garden, and cleans up the house. If there is anyone who is deserving of this house, it's them. I'm just a long-lived tenant with a penchant for visions.<br><br>The staff keep quiet about my appearance of not aging and the times they witnessed my eyes going white. The head housekeeper, Martha, tried to rouse me from the floor, but I had grabbed her unknowingly. I saw a vision of her death at her own hands. The same for the mechanic, who would die in an accident. The only one who have a happy ending was the new girl. She would have to go through some troubles, but she would be come out of it with experience and a story to tell. As much as I want to be part of that story, the vision I get in an itchy stupor would propel me away from the estate.<br><br>The foretelling doesn't tell me much. It's in a first-person perspective. I'm helped up to my feet by a handsome gentleman and once I'm at his side, I see a billowing smoke along the darkened horizon. Then I awake from the vision. Martha tells me if I am to see more of this vision and in more clear detail, I would have to journey to the location it happens in. Seeing the vision over and over while stuck in this place is a bit like insanity. Martha is right. I would have to leave, but I would like to leave on a good note.<br><br>I was willed Mr. Vega's estate as well as his inheritance, but I feel like it's something I do not need. It's his staff that could use it more. It will be a difficult process, but I want it to be the last good thing I do here.<br><br><em>Date: Summer of 2002</em><br><br>Mr. Vega's stocks and savings have been loaned to the staff and their families and even the state has made his property protected. As such, their own staff will maintain the grounds, cleaning it up and tending to the extensive orchid garden I started all those years ago. Today also marks the first time I've met a supernatural, a being who could pass as human, but has powers and abilities that make them more than human. Like me.<br><br>She is a curator and a philanthropist, who is also what my Japanese friends call a Kitsune. As per our agreement, I've erected a secret shrine on the grounds for her in exchange of her duty as the property's guardian. The original staff have gone on their respective ways and hopefully do not meet their demise soon.<br><br>I travel southward, though the Kitsune says I should go more east than south.<br><br><em>Date: March 2022</em><br><br>My journey has led me to the Mojave Desert, a land that is scorched by the sun and where oases are a godsend. As a Lemurian, I am comfortable in the heat, but for mere humans, they tan and succumb to heatstroke and dehydration. I was picked up by a person travelling to Las Vegas via a camper truck with the name Earthroamer on the side (https://www.blessthisstuff.com/imagens/stuff/earthroamer-xv-lts.jpg). I'm not someone who gives into coincidences, but I wonder if this person was also a Lemurian. In the heat, it didn't seem like her sweat across her brow was any indication of being the same race. She didn't like seeing me in the heat of what was called the Death Valley and so she gave me a ride all the way to the city.<br><br>I did not see any oases in the desert, but once the city filled with neon lights and along a stretch of road flanked by pyramids and castles, I could very well see this Las Vegas being an oasis in this desert.<br><br>I asked my chaffeur, who goes by the peculiar name of Camilla Wolfkiller, to take me directly to this high point with what I would come to know as the Strip in the distance. She wondered why and then refused, taking me to a simple motel for the night. Did she know what I would find there? She didn't ask me for payment, though her abrupt stop at this hotel and letting me off with my things, seemed like she did not want anything to do with me any longer.<br><br>The next day, during breakfast, someone spiked my drink and I would have found myself in a precarious situation if it weren't for Camilla, who was wracked with guilt that she returned to save the day. Furthermore, she decided against her beliefs and took me directly to Wonderland Casino &amp; Resort, where she said would be a likely place I'd find clue to fulfilling my destiny.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Vegas After Dark: Prequel</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ihinka</strong> on <strong>18-08-2022, 00:06:27</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><span class="bbc_u">A Status-2 Mortalis NPC - A Debt Owed</span></span></div><br><div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3a/4e/8d/3a4e8dfe0adba3f05a202c846826be69.jpg)</div><br>Shortly after Blaine had established some order in the Moors, she was contacted by a certain someone. Or rather she was contacted on behalf of that certain someone about a woodcarving commission. A limousine arrived at her house. And she was brought to an establishment that looked like a cross between a boudoir and a speakeasy. And its proprietress was dresses very much to match the style of her establishment. Madam Francine Beaumont, as it turned out, owned and operated the '<em>No Men Allowed</em> House of Lady Favors' that catered to the mortal and supernatural alike. Madam Beaumont's staff was not unlike the Japanese Geisha - cultured, refined and highly educated. Differing only in the providing of that last bit of extra service. The establishment was clearly classy and high-end. Even if it was a private, invitations only affair, where one couldn't just walk in off the street for some bit of debaucherous fun.<br><br><div class="floatleft">(https://www.hiddenlibations.com/wp-content/uploads/le-boudior-secret-bar-brooklyn-3.jpg)</div><br>Madam Beaumont had informed Blaine that she'd been summoned to receive a commission to create a series of carvings which would serve not only to decorate the establishment, but also to set the mood. With the first one of the series specifically commissioned to commemorate the establishment's anniversary.<br><br>Blaine had been nearly done with the piece. As she had left the most poignant detail in the work for last. An urgent call, however, had pulled her away from Las Vegas in the very last moment. In connection to tracking down the errant pieces from Gruesome Gertie. As a result she'd been late in delivering the very first piece of the series. Madam Beaumont had graciously agreed to let the affront slide in the face of Blaine's urgent personal matters. However, since there was no such thing as a free lunch, the two women had agreed on a debt owed. Which the Madam could call upon at her discretion. And Blaine had delivered on the rest of her commission in due time and with no further delay.<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Anniversary Piece, Life-size, in Soft maple</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://www.art-bronze-sculptures.com/media/image/fd/58/8e/713_0593009f0e401f_600x600.jpg)</div></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">2nd Piece, Life-size, in Cocobolo</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://www.art-bronze-sculptures.com/media/image/d0/24/c9/75_159300a302f45f.jpg)</div></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Final Piece, Life-size, in Bloodwood</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://www.picclickimg.com/d/l400/pict/264059054784_/Bronze-Sculpture-Art-Deco-Modern-Marble-Base-Woman.jpg)</div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Vegas After Dark: Prequel</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RedKnight</strong> on <strong>20-08-2022, 00:41:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I wrote this in the present tense and did a bit of GodModding on Danielle, because its a vision.<br><br>Danielle’s vision:<br><br>It’s a beautiful moonlight night, Danielle and Evan are walking along hand in hand. There is. Whisper of a breeze. Evan feels something brush he cheek. He reaches up; his cheek is wet. He brings his hand down, it’s wet with blood. Another hiss of breeze, another cut. This time on Evan’s forearm.<br><br>Dannielle looks into Evan’s eyes. There is only confusion. Another whisper, another cut, this time from forehead to cheek. Dannielle screams and the two begin running. The whispers follow them. It appears that there assailant is everywhere and yet nowhere. The only evidence is a cut and blood.<br><br>Evan’s step falters. It appears that the cuts are taking their toll. Just as all seems lost, Dannielle sees a light in the distance. She pulls the flagging Even towards the light. As they get closer, the light resolves itself - a figure in radiant armor. The figure stands motionless as the pair approach.<br><br>Evan falls to the ground. Still holding Evan, Dannielle reaches out, just touching the radiant figure’s foot. Suddenly, the radiant figure is moving. There is another hiss, but this time, the his ends in a scream of pain. There is no new cut on Evan. Dannielle, cradles Evan in her arms. Suddenly, the radiant figure has a a glowing sword. They move, dancing around Dannielle and Evan, only each move ends in a scream of pain from the darkness.<br><br>Suddenly, Dannielle woke in her bed in the Wonderland resort. <br><br>&nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Vegas After Dark: Prequel</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RedKnight</strong> on <strong>20-08-2022, 22:42:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Government and Supernaturals.<br><br>For Government, Supernaturals prefer to pull the string behind the scene rather than being in the spotlight - having the Mayor in their debt, rather than being the Mayor. However, there are mortals in Government that are aware of Supernaturals. The government is not a monolithic entity with various groups pursuing their own agendas. Although, the primary focus of any Faction is to survive and then grow.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Vegas After Dark: Prequel</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ihinka</strong> on <strong>21-08-2022, 21:08:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 16pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Joanna "JoJo" Jobin, A status-3 NPC, a debt owed</strong></span></div><br><div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/04/28/ab/0428ab227c2911cff3ee68dc12f2adb8.jpg)</div>Dimana Filipova, the original holder of Blaine's debt was the matriarch of a very particular sub-faction of the Hunter persuasion. Hailing originally from Bulgaria, later immigrating to the United States, by way of Canada, Dimana was what were known in Bulgaria as <em>съботник</em> (in direct translation from Bulgarian - a person born on a Saturday). It was believed people born on a Saturday had the supernatural power to recognize evil. And any other supernatural being out there. As such, they were believed the only beings capable of hunting down and dealing with these evil entities. They were also purported to have the ability to interpret dreams. Unbeknownst to Blaine, Dimana had been a dear friend of her grandmother on her mother's side in their younger years. Way before Blaine was even born. But the two women had drifted apart once Dimana had immigrated to the States by way of Canada. Years later, in her golden years Dimana had retraced the lineage of her dear friend right down to her last descendant - Blaine. And was keeping an eye on her ever since. So when Blaine had found herself in a bind with a very powerful, very influential member of the Hunters Faction back in Ireland, during her investigation of her family's tragedy, Dimana had intervened from the shadows on her behalf. Had she not things might have ended in bloodshed. With Blaine's hair-trigger on anything regarding her turning and the slaughter of her family and the Hunters holier than though attitude in refusing to acknowledge any involvement or even knowledge of the incident, the proverbial shit had been about to hit the fan.<br><br><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/5a/f7/4a/5af74a9090a26fdfe0d682b6c47f79f1.jpg)</div>Sadly, Dimana had passed away recently. Leaving her granddaughter in charge of <strong><em>'The Saturday Club'</em></strong>. The Hunter organization built around the Slavic lore and traditions Dimana had brought with her from her home country - Bulgaria. At 38 <span class="bbc_u">Joanna "JoJo" Jobin</span> is considered young for the influence and power piled on her shapely shoulders. However, the legacy of Dimana, as well as Joanna's own established influence, mark her as a force to be reckoned among the Hunter Faction. Joanna holds a dual American-Canadian citizenship, with a mix of Bulgarian on her American-Bulgarian grandmother's side and Korean and Inuit on her Canadian side. She is a fierce and skilled Hunter, very discriminate of her prey according to the teachings of her grandmother and previous matriarch of <em><strong>'The Saturday Club'</strong></em>. A position JoJo now holds. As well as the debt Blaine owes to her Grandmother. Though as far as Blaine knows, she owes a debt to 'The Saturday Club'. To this day she has no knowledge of Dimana Filipova, or her link to Blaine's own family.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Vegas After Dark: Prequel</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RedKnight</strong> on <strong>08-09-2022, 21:03:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/ELh6kfQ.jpg)</div>Let It Out (uncover the essential truth of a thing or person in your presence)<br>7-9 is a hit. I mark 1 Corruption. MC tells me how the ability is costly, limited, or unstable<br>Danielle's Let It Out. Dannielle does a Soul Gaze (ala Dresden Files) into the Archivist. You will see their true nature, but they see yours.<br><br>Due to the Soul Gaze, Dannielle and Ryan have shared a moment of extreme intimacy,<br>Oracle: When you share a moment of intimacy—physical or emotional—with another person, you gain a specific and clear vision of that person's future. Mark corruption to ask the MC up to two follow-up questions; they must answer honestly.<br>Wizard: When you share a moment of intimacy—physical or emotional— with another person, decide if you care about them. If you do, you form a sympathetic connection;<br><br><hr><br>Danielle's gift was powerful, even more so when she let it all out. However, her powers did not manifest the same way on every evocation. She might get glimpses of what was or what would be. Her glimpses could be sight, sound, smell, emotions, or thoughts. In this particular case, Danielle got one of the more dangerous manifestations of her gift - the soul gaze; she gazed into the true nature of the Archivist, Ryan, as they gazed into her soul.<br><br>The gaze stripped away any thought that this person was a young apprentice or a scholar. Ryan - they would never again be the Archivist to Danielle - was a person of layers and complexities - like a Russian Matryoshka Doll, or perhaps a tree, where each layer grows upon the next. <br><br>The first layer was the young barista, eager to please. Under that was the Mad Scientist(half researcher, half artificer). The fruits of this shell lay around Danielle. Ancient and arcane tomes, modern engineering manuals, and engineering logs supported the results of various experiments and projects. However, this was merely the surface, Ryan's face to the world.<br><br>Below that was the parent. Danielle saw a hippie commune; Ryan was leaving with a baby girl cradled in their arms. It was less a vision and more a sense of emotions. The proud parent watched the girl grow up, get married, and have a child, only to be pulled back into their life when her husband was killed. Only to watch the cycle be repeated when the child grew up, married, had a child, and watched her husband gunned down in a random act of gang violence.&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>The next layer was an event, obviously a pivotal event. In retrospect, Ryan feels deep anguish and remorse, although he felt a sense of accomplishment at the time. It was a small village in a jungle; several villagers were out tending the fields. Ryan spoke into a radio. Its bulky design placed it sometime in the 1950s or 60s. <strong>"Pathfinder One to Dragon Fire, confirming on-target"</strong> to Dannielle, it seemed like moments later, although it was probably minutes in real-time, a series of objects began tumbling from the skies. The objects burst apart and into flames, raining fire down on the village and the villagers. However, it was no ordinary fire as it clung to everyone and everything. A few figures burst from the buildings, screaming and engulfed in flames.<br><br><strong>"Our target waits for us - SS-Oberfuhrer Bruno Fendler in the employ of the NVA, by way of the French Foreign Legion, and the 1st SS Division. I know not when he was turned, but we hunted each other throughout Europe in World War Two."</strong><br><br><strong>"What, what about the villagers."</strong> a voice asked. <br><br>Ryan chuckled, <strong>"What do you Americans call it? Collateral Damage? Bruno was sure that we would not bomb a village and that the entrenched NVA company would hold off any assault long enough for reinforcements or him to escape."</strong> Ryan smiled, <strong>"the Oberfuhrer taught me well."</strong>&nbsp; <br><br>The next layer was love lost; Ryan held a woman close and whispered, <strong>"I love you."</strong> only to have her reply, <strong>"You silly boy, I only love women. You are a mask for me. I'm doubly cursed, a woman in a society that treats us as second-class citizens and a woman who loves only other women."</strong><br><br>Then another layer, a flash of a memory. A door shattered by a person or perhaps a creature with supernatural strength. A man falls from the creature's attack. Suddenly the power welled up in Ryan, a blast of arcane energies; the creature screamed in pain and fury as the energy burned him.<br>&nbsp;<br>Ryan the student, it is a prestigious boarding school. A snippet of conversation, <strong>"He won't fit in well here. He's not our kind."</strong> and a second voice chuckles. <strong>"But he is my kind in both senses. he has the talent, and he is already feral from living on the streets. The other students disdain, and your training will refine and crude magical limb into a powerful Wizard's staff."</strong> <br><br>The first voice commented <strong>"And it's a bonus that he's just your type - young and looks like a girl."</strong> the second voice chuckled.<br><br>The Urchin, it was Ryan's life - hide, steal, eat, sleep. Every hand was raised against him, the coppers, the shopkeepers, the other urchins. Then there was him. Ryan had tried to pick his pocket, but the man had seen him coming. Ryan ran, but the dark figure had some way of tracking Ryan. The chase spaned most of the docks, until the figure caught Ryan. <br><br>Dannielle finally gets to the core; it's a short memory, the earliest Ryan remembered. There is a slap, and a voice commented, <strong>"It's no child of mine. I'd no birth something like that. It may have the bits of a male, but it's got a woman's build. You must have been cheating on me."</strong>&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Welcome to the Club</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RedKnight</strong> on <strong>11-09-2022, 20:06:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Few have heard about Fight Club, and fewer still know where it is. Fight Club is an Urban Legend amongst the Supernatural of Vegas. The place where Monsters fight Monsters. However, there is a hierarchy within Fight Club.<br><ul class="bbc_list"><li>Participants are supernaturals that are tough enough to put on a decent fight at the Fight Club.</li><li>Spectators are people that are rich or powerful enough to wangle an invitation to a fight at the Club. While the crowd is mostly Supernaturals, there is a sprinkling of the rich and the supernaturally connected.</li><li>Members are allowed to train at Fight Club. Membership is highly sought after as it provides access to experienced fight trainers and limited use of the circle.</li><li>Board Members can extend invitations to participants and spectators.</li></ul>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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