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t h e . w a y w a r d - e v e n t
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On the surface,
an Elysium of unsurpassed splendor. Beneath, something sinister lurks...
Nikodemus "A birthday present for me? Sure you don't mean happy unbirthday? Now I just gotta get a frame for it." Niko briefly eyes the paintings in the hall then shakes his head. "Naaahhh...." Altiriel Twice-Born "What?" Elijah asked. "I don't have your chess-piece anymore," Altiriel said, staring at Elijah the Bishop. "The Jyhad...that's what this is all about. The Jyhad and Gehenna." "That song was a perfect summary of the First Times. I think I have it figured out. I have been in a similar place once...when I underwent my Suspire. I think the area is formed--at least partially--from our minds." He looked at the board again. "Though I would say that someone else's mind has a greater influence on events then ours do. Will this be a dream, I wonder? Or a nightmare?" Altiriel stopped suddenly and grinned. "Do you play?" he asked Elijah, gesturing to the board. Darkana1 ------------------ Nikodemus Note to self: When smiling and nodding, not so vigorously... [/OOC] Elijah Robert Marks "I was never terribly good at chess. I know all the basic moves, but I always found the rules too restrictive." He smiles humorlessly. "I was never one to play by the rules... "The Jyhad, you say? That's the big war that Kindred are always fighting for some reason or another that they can never really explain to anyone's satisfaction, so they blame it on the Antediluvians?" He looks at Alitiriel pointedly. "You sound as if you were around when it all started. Why don't you tell me about it? It might help me understand what the heck is going on..." ------------------ Altiriel Twice-Born "There are many explanations for the Jyhad. According to the Book of Nod, the Jyhad was a curse that Uriel leveled on Caine because he created the Second Generation. "If you don't like the 'cursed by a vengeful Deity' angle, there's always my belief--the Jyhad occurs because of boredom. After tens of thousands of nights, the Kindred turn to politics and scheming because that's the only thing that is still unpredictable. There are always new people and more things in politics. "Or maybe what you heard is right, and the Jyhad is an eternal game of oneupmanship among the Ancients that won't end until they're all dead. Either that, or they decide to do something else. And personally, I don't want to know what a ten thousand year-old Cainite does for fun." Altiriel turns back to Elijah. "Does that help?" Larson *Larson goes off to continue taking over the city, you know he will eventually do it, it's just a matter of time...* ------------------ OldanVisuce No one ever get Oldan's nose right. Is nose, not elephant trunk. Krouser, Niko, does this thing look like Oldan? *upon closer inspection the statue is nothing but a perfect likeness of him* Nikodemus OldanVisuce Nikodemus Vash It's ketchup... Or catsup. Don't go into the kitchen, it's a mess. I swear, if this kind of thing keeps up, I'll acquire a drinking problem. *Vash lifts the glass up to drink from but splashes it on his face. He frowns and sets the glass down* See? *Vash stands up and walks back to the hallway. He walks with a determined stride until he sees his target. A wooden door with a V in a circle, crossed out, painted on it* All right, lets get this over with... *Vash raises his leg and slams his foot into the door, making it fly off it's hinges. He steps inside and yells* Okay, this is the last time I come here! You taunt me with my friends... what now? *The door slowly lifts off the floor and returns back to it's previous position. Vash watches it close and turns around as the room is plunged into darkness* Must you do this every time? *A dim light flickers in front of him and a tiny flame ignites, floating in the air. A voice fills the room, a strong masculine voice fills the room* (Translated from Gaulic, just to be easier to read) Vashiel... *Vash looks around, visibly upset* Father? Is that you? Who else would it be? *Vash nods* Nobody... only you, mother and my sister called me that... I suppose since you're an adult now, I shouldn't call you that anymore. *Vash crosses his arms and stares at the flame, as it's flickering seems to hypnotize him* What are you doing here? Seeing what's become of my only son... a boy I taught to be a proud, strong protector of people. *The voice seems to grow darker as it takes on a different tone* But instead, I find that you've become a parasite that prays on people, devouring them to preserve your miserable existence! *Vash looks stunned. His body is shaking as his father slowly appears in front of him. He looks to be in his 40's with dark brown hair and beard, graying slightly at the sides. He's a few inches taller then Vash and and brawnier too. He wears simple pants and a shirt* F-father! No! I couldn't help it! I didn't want to be embraced! *His father sneers* Is that what you call it? Does it make you feel better to call it that? You gave up your life to gain power! *Vash collapses to his knees as blood fills the corner of his eyes and spills down his cheeks* No father! Since I was cursed, I've dedicated myself to helping people! I use my powers to aide people, not destroy them! Lies! You drink from their throats to prolong your sorry existence! You are a disgrace to your family! If I were alive today, I would kill you with my own hands! *Vash hangs his head, blood dripping down his face. His voice comes out in barely a whisper* H-how did you die? *His father is obviously thrown aback* What? What does it matter?!? *Vash stands up, his eyes burning with rage* I do not know how my father died... neither would some "thing" that scanned my mind! You are not my father! *Vash pulls both cz-75's from his jacket and points them at his fake father* Illusion! I do not like to use my weapons, but your corruption of my father's memory is more then I can stand. I hope for your sake that god may have mercy on your soul! *Vash squeezes the trigger again and again, a rain of bullets strike into the doppelganger. It screams in pain and then flickers away. Vash releases his grip on the triggers as the room fades back to a normal study. Vash slips his guns back inside his jacket and exits the room, an enraged look on his face* *As he rounds the corner that leads back to the hallway, Vash wipes his face and smiles. He skips back into the great hall and takes a seat at the bar* Wow-ee, this is one weird place... huh? OldanVisuce Here you go. Oldan hear gunshots, knew you would need this when you got back. This house seems to mentally-rape anyone who enters rooms. Am wondering if it is defense measure, or tests? You know, instead of alarms going off, we get to face Sins of Past. But what would we steal? *holds the statue of himself up to face level* Little statues that look nothing like us? Friend Elijah has been gone for long time, am starting to worry about the Childe. Has anyone seen him recently? Has anyone seen the Salubri? They were together when I last saw. I wonder how they are doing. *For the next time Nikodemus speaks, it will sound like everything he says is "Meow".* /OOC/ Yes, auditory illusions too! Nikodemus "Meeeeoooowwww!" Niko looks embarassed for a moment and then coughs a couple of times, glaring at Oldan. "Damn summer colds. Anyway, as I was saying, I'm glad it wasn't just me. I had a less than pleasant experience earlier. But mine wasn't a recollection of things past, nor did it feel like a test. "It was more in the nature, it seemed to me, to be a threat...one designed to instill fear." Nikodemus cleared his throat noisily at this point. "It seemed to draw out images and ideas from my mind, and it was so real, so vivid, that even now I can barely believe it wasn't real." Niko looks away at this point, whispering "My God, I can only hope it isn't real." Stormcaller Umm, did I miss something, why is Niko meowing. I know his name means cat but this is going a little to far. Notices Oldan trying to hold back laughter and figures out what must be happening. After giving Oldan a nasty look and making a threatening gesture Niko repeates himself. Looks like I am not the only one to have gone back to one of the rooms. I can't say that mine instilled fear but I did feel extreme sadness and not a little rage while I was in mine. I think it isn't so much which emotion is evoked as how strong an emotion it is. Now if only we could figure out why this place wants to get such strong emotions out of us and how it is able to learn so much about us. If anyone needs me I will be at the bar because I need a drink. David walks behind the bar and sniffs at a few of the bottles till he finds one that seems to please him and then he pours himself a drink and sits down on one of the chairs near the bar. ------------------ Neuromortis As the piece touches the board once more, a preternatural timbre flat as a Texas armadillo states matter of factly: “From one truncated history lesson to the next. A song, a soliloquy, lachrymose amen.” And they come face to face with the Tall Man—although this time, he seems quite content to remain sitting in the velvety chair by the fire, a cup of the black tea resting upon one crossed leg, a hand holding a small plate while the other pops a sweet-looking pettifore into his mouth. The plate returns to the table, the free hand expelling renegade crumbs from the tidy perfection of his suit. The fingers of the two hands then join to steeple before the face of the stranger—a face that now, upon observation, held little of the awful countenance Elijah first beheld. Once menacing, the man now bears a definitive genteel quality; his sallow features a chameleon of expression and his tacit profession of information seems to suggest that by the very act of speaking he supercedes all previous truths in favor of his own… “Why does the game intrigue?” he offers, mulling his own words in a faux display of contemplation. A furrowed brow and then: “This game is nothing more than a simplistic, scale model representation of the eternal balance of power. As the song stipulated, it began in the fourth century with two rival Hindu boys bearing animosity toward one another’s modus operandi in matters of morality and state. Now, Tell me of another important event which took place in the fourth century.” A cocked eyebrow. Steepled fingers separate, hands rolling to open palms as a presentational magician’s: Where is the answer? Krouser *looks up from a new sandpainting, an abstract one from the looks of it.* "My first one seemed to try to force me into frenzy. I suspect that there was an intervention in the second, like whatever this place was doing was being changed by an outsider." *looks at the painting, thinking for a moment, then wipes away the sands on one corner to start again.* "If something CAN interfer, than this place isn't sentient, It would have to be a means to an end. Any guesses as to what the end is?" Nikodemus Krouser *raises an eyebrow* "I should hope not. God forbid my work should actualy inspire emotion." *chuckles knowingly* Nikodemus "Hmmm...you sure you're
Gangrel and not a really hairy Toreador?" "Nah, you've got too much taste, and far too much talent for that." Krouser "I'm Navajo, and I was suposed to be a shamen. The tribe casting me out, and my being embraced are no reasons for me to let the skills atrophy and disapear." Voracia She's come upon them even as her song continues, though her lips do not move. "Like psychologists, aren't you? The kind who spend their lives attempting to peel away the layers of themselves by prodding the memories of others...except in this scenario, you're prodding an Elysium. Everything is loud to those who listen for it. You've spent so much time immersed in the horrors of...life, that when presented with peace, even a modicum of rest, you have to keep ripping away at the corners of the fabric." Those who may have insight into others' states of being will regard this woman as utterly afraid. Which begins to show as her emotion peaks past the reserve of charm and self-preservative poise she's so recently fought to maintain. And the shattering begins. "Look at you, all huddled together like conspirators out to avenge the death of your own memories--blaming this house, or this room, or pretending to escape into the small-talk of the hour when in reality you're just...I mean look at you all, you won't even admit that something just cut into the only pieces of your souls you have left and you're keeping it a secret because you're afraid of how people will LOOK at you--Masquerade--and this, and more secrets, and them, and right now they're going to DIE because you SIT here and they're willing to let eachother IN but you're just trying, so, HARD to keep from going completely out of your minds because you KNOW there's nothing you can do, that once you're IN, you're IN, and nothing you can say, or be, or scream and yell and fight and cry NOTHING you do will save the only--SHRED--OF HOPE--YOU HAVE LEFT--" With each punched word, vessels upon the tables vibrate--and when the final sentence is uttered, glass and ceramic go nova, shatter-spraying the immediate vicinity. And as she blacks out, she pitches heavily forward onto the edge of the table, counterbalancing the oaken round and sending the opposite side violently into the air... ..and the figures atop the stairs who've gone unnoticed linger a moment longer, then disperse to areas unseen. ------------------ Nikodemus Neuromortis The Tall Man's gaze has averted to the board in mild consternation. "Yes, would you please replace the queen to her proper square? You've placed her in the King's position...she cannot occupy that space. Yes, thank you." A cat-ate-the-canary-but-placed-the-feathers-on-the-dog's-bed smile. "Now, 4th Century...Salubri?"
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