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"Hell screams for more corrupt souls. I answer the call."[A1i:9][A1i:9] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Isaac on Dec 20, 2011 15:58:13 GMT -8
Isaac strutted around his foe, like a cat toying with his catch before it killed it. He found himself in front of the boy when the voice in the shadows ordered another attack. The boy sprag forward, leg extended, and caught Isaac in the middle of the chest. Instead of just taking the punishment, he grabbed the boy's foot when it hit him and he hopped a small distance into the air to move with the boy. As he did this, he forced the boy's foot upwards to flip him on to his stomach. He took a moment to regain breath, as the body shot had hit rather hard.
"I grow tired of games. Let us finish this." Isaac said in a cold and sadistic tone.
He hid the pain of the blow, and if the guard had crawled away towards the pillar he had vaulted earlier, he would run towards the pillar, jump at it, plant a foot on the pillar, push off and pivot, and deliver a bone cracking blow to the head with his unused foot.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Dec 20, 2011 18:16:01 GMT -8
Welcome To Hell
Isaiah was finished.
He lay on the ground like a broken toy, blood seeping from his nose and mouth. His eyes were staring into the abyss, silently begging for his master’s mercy.
“Impressive.”
Vespyr seemed to appear suddenly; the boy would see only a fleeting glimpse of her slipping down lightly from her perch, a broken pipe that hung low from the ceiling but high off the ground. Her boots touched down on the ground almost inaudibly, for she absorbed the impact of her scarce weight with a simple, yet skillful, bending of the knees. Rising up to her full height, she flashed him a poisonous grin. Her eyes were hidden in the shadow of her officer’s cap—she wore her usual uniform—but glinted at him eerily from the darkness.
“As you can see, our guards are still rather undertrained and incompetent. That is why we have them fight at every opportunity we can. You, too—though you appear to be off to a good start—will undergo rigorous training to sharpen your skills and augment your power. Your lessons begin tomorrow after a thorough layout of the ground rules and a tour of the territory.”
Vespyr stepped forward, passing him, her violet eyes visible for a brief moment—narrowed, glaring at him coldly, betraying the smile she wore—before her entire face was cast into shadow and she walked into the darkness. Expecting the boy to follow, she continued speaking:
“Though you have passed the first two tests, you are not yet a full member of our outfit. Your training will be a trial period in which we test you, twist you, and attempt to break you—so that you will emerge stronger in the end. You have given up all of your inherent rights as a human being by coming here. What privileges you desire, you must earn by showing us that you are worthy of living amongst us. Remember that we will not hesitate to kill you if you waste our time.”
Finally, after trekking through a vast stretch of pitch black darkness, they came to a small, square opening in the wall. It was about five feet high and led to another room that was approximately six-by-six feet in area. The ceiling rose far above and was open to the sky, dim silver moonlight falling through the bars of a grate that made the small room feel like a surreal prison cell. Near the leftmost wall was a rectangular hole in the ground, just large enough for a person of average size to fit through. The top of a ladder was visible through the gloomy darkness. The shaft itself, of course, had been removed to make it easier to get in and out of the large room below. All that remained was a ladder they had found when they first explored the underground, which was of a rather convenient height, and needed only to be propped up against the wall once the metal vent had been torn away.
Vespyr stood beside the mouth of the abyss, her arms folded casually. Her slender form was outlined from above in faint silver light, juxtaposed with the shadows that now seemed darker than ever—shadows that still concealed her eyes. Slowly, she extended one of her arms and directed the boy toward the ladder with a long, bony finger.
“Welcome to your new home.”
Her voice was anything but welcoming; she could just as well have said ‘Welcome to Hell.’
‘Downstairs’, if the boy had obeyed his first real order, he would be greeted in a rather unfriendly manner by the same Gilbert Pike who had addressed him earlier. The spidery man was standing, or looming, rather, outside a tent he’d set up for himself. As the organization’s discipline officer, he was in charge of overseeing the new recruits and soldiers in their quarters—which was what the entire underground consisted of. The cement room was rather large, stretching 200 feet ahead of the ladder and 300 feet to the left of it. Pipes of all sorts poked in and out of the walls, some small, some large, some broken, some not. The room was cut in half by a large metal pipe, five feet in diameter that existed five feet from the ceiling and six feet from the floor, running from between each of the 300-foot walls. Dingy electric lights were tracked along the ceiling. In the far corner of the room was a generator that hummed glumly.
In many spots along the walls were pitched small tents and tiny ‘campsites’, though sometimes just a bedroll or two; these belonged to the other lackeys that had jumped onto the bandwagon with the Rogues. Some of them regretted their decision, while some of them seemed to be enjoying themselves rather extensively. One of the encampments belonging to a more enthusiastic bunch of Rogues was decorated with a variety of human bones, mostly skulls with the teeth missing. Many of the inhabitants of the underground were rather intimidating by nature, having been drawn to the organization for obvious reasons… others looked somewhat out of place and nervous, as if at any moment they would become fodder for those who were more given to violence, and even cannibalism. None of such behavior was frowned upon, but it was decreed by Law #5 that they were not to kill their fellow rogues unless given permission to do so.
Permission was seldom granted, but the fear wringing the faces of most of the newcomers was still rather warranted.
“Please… make yourself comfortable, boy.”
Gilbert’s voice was dark and tinged with sarcasm, his blood-coloured eyes glinting at the boy whom he so obviously despised. He despised all of them. Animals, they were. Bloody animals. But at least they respected the rules—he made sure of it.
Tossing the boy’s bloody duffel bag over, minus the head which had been delivered upstairs for safekeeping, the thin man turned away and ducked, muttering, into his tent.
+1 EXP to Isaiah +1 EXP to Isaac +1 lose to Isaiah +1 win to Isaac
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