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+--- Thread: TROUBLE'S COMING ¤¤ open && joining (/showthread.php?tid=5151)
TROUBLE'S COMING ¤¤ open && joining - Seina - 08-13-2018
[glow=black,2,300]BREAKOUT[/glow]
// TW for mention of child abuse
With a cigarette put inside of his mouth the young assassin took this final steps to appear up right outside of the city, his light blue orbs taking the view in with a half growing grin. Finally he was here after all of that travelling had arrived outside of the door to the town he had come here for to start himself a new life - well depanding on how you saw it like. When only being a child had been taken away, kidnapped by an very vile and cruel assassin how had forced him into the training to become a assassin just like himself had been. Darius had only been eight years back then - when his whole life had fallen apart right in front of his eyes. First he had lost his twin brother along with the village they had grown up in that had got burned down by a evil man how had been supposed to be thier loyal servant. Fucking monkey. Darius had grown up in luxury, spoiled rotten so had never learn how the real world actually could be. In one day had he learned all of that. His home shattered and destroyed, left behind as his parents had most likely got killed, his brother for sure had and then being taken away by that assassin. His own father had been one so it was most likely that fucking bastard had taken him in belife he could make him to an skilled assassin just like his own father had been.
His life hadn't been easy thanks for that bastard. Beaten, abused, and other stuff a child never should have to be put through. Once reaching the age of twelve had got thrown away into a assassin school there he had trained every single day. It had been hell. All of them had been treated like tools, animals and from there on had been treated like one. But he had been determined to get himself out from there, to not die in that school so he had done what they had been expected of him and by the age of fifteen had been one of the few how had got out of there with thier life in behold. All the horrible things he had done in there just to survive, all of this students he had been forced to kill. Some had even been younger then himself, some had been older. It was a horrible time of his life Darius never wanted to speak of ever again. Once out of the school the real job had begin. Getting tasks to be send out on mission to kill for money. Supernatrual beings had seem to be one of the most desirable out there to kill. So he had become a hunter, being anything just to get the job done. Never once had he failed to execute someone. Never once...
Now at the age of twenty had finally grown bored to follow this bastard orders. So he had left to build himself a new life elsewhere and contunie on to do what he did best, to kill people. But this time he would do it for his own sake, owning money for himself alone and not working for anyone to share his money with. And on top of that got a opportunity to live more of a life he always had wanted. His whole youth had got taken away from him so now he was here to finally get to experience it. To live a normal life as Darius while in the shadows worked as the assassin Breakout how would bring nightmares to anyone how had the unfortunate to get thier face picture into his hand.
It was about time to live his life to the fullest.
Puffing on his cigarette the assassin then lifted his foot to take that one final step to enter the city to start his new life while he carried a bag ove rhis shoulder with his mask and costume inside that he always wore when he did his missions. Two chisa katana swords that was put in a belt behind his back and his style. He looked like a thug, a gangster and only trouble come out from him as he made his apperance through the city.
With a cigarette put inside of his mouth the young assassin took this final steps to appear up right outside of the city, his light blue orbs taking the view in with a half growing grin. Finally he was here after all of that travelling had arrived outside of the door to the town he had come here for to start himself a new life - well depanding on how you saw it like. When only being a child had been taken away, kidnapped by an very vile and cruel assassin how had forced him into the training to become a assassin just like himself had been. Darius had only been eight years back then - when his whole life had fallen apart right in front of his eyes. First he had lost his twin brother along with the village they had grown up in that had got burned down by a evil man how had been supposed to be thier loyal servant. Fucking monkey. Darius had grown up in luxury, spoiled rotten so had never learn how the real world actually could be. In one day had he learned all of that. His home shattered and destroyed, left behind as his parents had most likely got killed, his brother for sure had and then being taken away by that assassin. His own father had been one so it was most likely that fucking bastard had taken him in belife he could make him to an skilled assassin just like his own father had been.
His life hadn't been easy thanks for that bastard. Beaten, abused, and other stuff a child never should have to be put through. Once reaching the age of twelve had got thrown away into a assassin school there he had trained every single day. It had been hell. All of them had been treated like tools, animals and from there on had been treated like one. But he had been determined to get himself out from there, to not die in that school so he had done what they had been expected of him and by the age of fifteen had been one of the few how had got out of there with thier life in behold. All the horrible things he had done in there just to survive, all of this students he had been forced to kill. Some had even been younger then himself, some had been older. It was a horrible time of his life Darius never wanted to speak of ever again. Once out of the school the real job had begin. Getting tasks to be send out on mission to kill for money. Supernatrual beings had seem to be one of the most desirable out there to kill. So he had become a hunter, being anything just to get the job done. Never once had he failed to execute someone. Never once...
Now at the age of twenty had finally grown bored to follow this bastard orders. So he had left to build himself a new life elsewhere and contunie on to do what he did best, to kill people. But this time he would do it for his own sake, owning money for himself alone and not working for anyone to share his money with. And on top of that got a opportunity to live more of a life he always had wanted. His whole youth had got taken away from him so now he was here to finally get to experience it. To live a normal life as Darius while in the shadows worked as the assassin Breakout how would bring nightmares to anyone how had the unfortunate to get thier face picture into his hand.
It was about time to live his life to the fullest.
Puffing on his cigarette the assassin then lifted his foot to take that one final step to enter the city to start his new life while he carried a bag ove rhis shoulder with his mask and costume inside that he always wore when he did his missions. Two chisa katana swords that was put in a belt behind his back and his style. He looked like a thug, a gangster and only trouble come out from him as he made his apperance through the city.
© MADI
Re: TROUBLE'S COMING ¤¤ open && joining - CATHERYN - 08-14-2018
No one here has had an easy life, San Creado is home to the broken, those who seek refuge in this tsunami-ravaged town want nothing more than to forget their past. At least, that's what Catheryn wants. It's been about a hundred years, more or less, she's stopped keeping track of the passage of time, and yet long-held grudges are hard to forget. Still, the people of this town keep her just busy enough that she doesn't spend the rest of her very long existence dwelling in memories she'd rather not have. Besides, what with the influx of newcomers, she thinks she'll find other people to sigh heavily at before long.
The soft scuff of boots on pavement is what alerts her to an arrival at the town border, if it can be called that. Those who come here are welcomed by nothing more than Rialto's glittery sign, put together in half an hour, the likes of which has probably never been seen anywhere else. Catheryn doesn't like it very much, but at least it's there. Nowadays, she puts more stock in the establishment of identity than she'd used to.
Evening is fast approaching, and whoever's at the edge of town is clearly not a tourist, those are much louder, and Catheryn steers clear of them as much as she can. The stranger is alone, and definitely not here just for pictures with their pineapple, so she decides that she should investigate, lest they're here to wreak havoc. San Creado may be shoddy and ramshackle, but everyone here protects their own.
A split-second moment of concentration has Catheryn disappearing from her perch on her bedroom windowsill to appear, as if out of thin air, next to Rialto's large, glittery sign, and her attention is immediately drawn by the man, who seems very heavily armed. "If you're here to cause trouble," she says, voice low in warning, "I suggest you turn around and leave."
The soft scuff of boots on pavement is what alerts her to an arrival at the town border, if it can be called that. Those who come here are welcomed by nothing more than Rialto's glittery sign, put together in half an hour, the likes of which has probably never been seen anywhere else. Catheryn doesn't like it very much, but at least it's there. Nowadays, she puts more stock in the establishment of identity than she'd used to.
Evening is fast approaching, and whoever's at the edge of town is clearly not a tourist, those are much louder, and Catheryn steers clear of them as much as she can. The stranger is alone, and definitely not here just for pictures with their pineapple, so she decides that she should investigate, lest they're here to wreak havoc. San Creado may be shoddy and ramshackle, but everyone here protects their own.
A split-second moment of concentration has Catheryn disappearing from her perch on her bedroom windowsill to appear, as if out of thin air, next to Rialto's large, glittery sign, and her attention is immediately drawn by the man, who seems very heavily armed. "If you're here to cause trouble," she says, voice low in warning, "I suggest you turn around and leave."
Re: TROUBLE'S COMING ¤¤ open && joining - Rialto - 08-15-2018
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With luxury, you always wanted more. Whether it was subtle, or a need so cloying people couldn't get their minds off it, it didn't matter if you were already at the top; there was an innate greed in people that kept the lid off, possessions and wealth a bottomless well you just kept feeding, something that had to be fed. It was the same for whatever necessitated wanting, honestly. There was never enough.
But the scale was different between people. People fed with silver spoons naturally had their own way of thinking about what power was. Sometimes they learned to think differently; adaptation was a trait written into living, right next to sleeping and breathing. Sometimes they didn't learn, or adaptation went the other way - sometimes little children retained the things they'd been methodically fed until adulthood and grew up to be merciless killers with little emotional reasoning, and that was just what life was.
(Rialto was working a little bit on his poetry, you see. That was it. He didn't quite have rhythm yet, nor a spectacular vocabulary, but you know, an artist's mind was a hailstorm. A hailstorm where the chunks of ice were scattered ideas and the people running screaming for shelter were the trains of thought not yet ridden, but soon to be taken. Ugh. His mind. Now that was poetic. He had conceptual thinking down pat.)
Initially, the sign denoting San Creado's claim had been an ugly, chipped, spraypainted thing, so he'd taken it upon himself not a few days ago - having his artist mind - to redecorate. Introduce some colour to the bleary backdrop of stained wood and the ashy buildings with stripped paint. Did it work? Please tell him it worked. That evening he was toting one of his newer ideas, a tiny skateboard with a rectangular indent for one's phone to slot into, but remote-controlled (albeit with no batteries, nor an actual remote), when he saw a stranger. They walked with weight, but in only a few steps one could determine that the actual man's steps were light; planted with precision, like a panther, sheathed swords jutting into air.
Like a shark's fin. Another attempt at poetry.
Rialto neatly dropped the miniature skateboard to the ground, where it rattled slightly and started rolling off, as he approached, a hand up to lazily scratch his head. "That's how it is," he agreed, voice pleasant. He cut a fine contrast to the stranger, considering he was wearing flipflops and a bathrobe. "You don't mind a tiny bag inspection, do you?"
But the scale was different between people. People fed with silver spoons naturally had their own way of thinking about what power was. Sometimes they learned to think differently; adaptation was a trait written into living, right next to sleeping and breathing. Sometimes they didn't learn, or adaptation went the other way - sometimes little children retained the things they'd been methodically fed until adulthood and grew up to be merciless killers with little emotional reasoning, and that was just what life was.
(Rialto was working a little bit on his poetry, you see. That was it. He didn't quite have rhythm yet, nor a spectacular vocabulary, but you know, an artist's mind was a hailstorm. A hailstorm where the chunks of ice were scattered ideas and the people running screaming for shelter were the trains of thought not yet ridden, but soon to be taken. Ugh. His mind. Now that was poetic. He had conceptual thinking down pat.)
Initially, the sign denoting San Creado's claim had been an ugly, chipped, spraypainted thing, so he'd taken it upon himself not a few days ago - having his artist mind - to redecorate. Introduce some colour to the bleary backdrop of stained wood and the ashy buildings with stripped paint. Did it work? Please tell him it worked. That evening he was toting one of his newer ideas, a tiny skateboard with a rectangular indent for one's phone to slot into, but remote-controlled (albeit with no batteries, nor an actual remote), when he saw a stranger. They walked with weight, but in only a few steps one could determine that the actual man's steps were light; planted with precision, like a panther, sheathed swords jutting into air.
Like a shark's fin. Another attempt at poetry.
Rialto neatly dropped the miniature skateboard to the ground, where it rattled slightly and started rolling off, as he approached, a hand up to lazily scratch his head. "That's how it is," he agreed, voice pleasant. He cut a fine contrast to the stranger, considering he was wearing flipflops and a bathrobe. "You don't mind a tiny bag inspection, do you?"
© MADI
[/td][/tr][/table]Re: TROUBLE'S COMING ¤¤ open && joining - miss ririchiyo - 08-19-2018
"It's probably weapons." Came the voice of Adrien as he arrived, tilting his head to the side. While he didn't care for drama, watching vampires get all flustered really did amuse him. There were two of them, could they not fight or something? Enhanced hearing told him that it was definitely rattling, but he couldn't decipher much from that.
He knew what it was like to hide behind a mask, literally. After all, he was a super hero in his past life. Now, he was stuck in this form, his black ears and tail twitching in unison as he surveyed the newcomer. Huh, he'd have to make friends with this dude.
//rushed
He knew what it was like to hide behind a mask, literally. After all, he was a super hero in his past life. Now, he was stuck in this form, his black ears and tail twitching in unison as he surveyed the newcomer. Huh, he'd have to make friends with this dude.
//rushed