Below the World

[Aseigan Cetanu]

Hello again, everyone. I’m back, and I decided that if I’m coming back to the forums, I’m coming back with a BANG! So, without further ado, I present to you, fellow forum-goers and RPers who may or may not have forgotten about that old RPer Aseigan, my newest creation, “Below the World.” This is going to a story that, I admit, has had its roots started in Stephen King’s excellent horror novel, “It”, but has since blossomed into something more. (In case you didn’t know, the clown in my signature and my avatar are from “It.” So, if they in any way evoke feelings of terror from you, best not to try this one out.)

This story will begin in a small town in Michigan called “Odech.” It’s a classic, small-town kind of place, with some old buildings and a newer portion. Odech is composed of what basically amounts to three roads, each of which passes through a central hub and then branches off into others at the city limits and continues onward. The three ‘main’ streets are Mary Street, Main Street, and Matthews Highway, each a long, paved road of black tar and yellow, dotted lines. Along Mary Street are most of the entrances to neighborhoods and such within the city, along Main are the Government buildings, Police Station, Fire Station, Courthouse, etc. Along Matthews Highway are the majority of the businesses. Mary and Matthews cross perpendicular to each other, and Main Street cuts through them at a 45 degree angle from the other two roads, directly in between the two. In the area in the center of this intersection of roads is Downtown Odech, a place of old buildings of brick and stone, beautiful architecture, and the major stores that sit in this place. Odech is a town of roughly 2000 people. Not a big city by any stretch of the imagination, but sizable enough to attract a couple of global corporations. In Downtown Odech are such stores as ‘Wal-Mart’ and ‘Country Market’, along with a Lowes, Staples, and even a small mall with a number of clothing stores and a Radio Shack. There are less than 10 stores inside this mall. All and all, the big businesses number 14, total, and homegrown businesses still reign supreme, as if it were still some corner of the world stuck in the past, in the days when places like Odech’s ‘Larry’s Camping and Hunting Emporium’, were held supreme over the low-cost, white-washed, faceless corporations that dominate today’s economy.

In this RP, you will design a character that is part of the town, a wanderer through this town, or whatever. As long as you keep your character simple and realistic, I’ll most likely approve. Please, PLEASE send me a PM BEFORE you post in the profiles section, with your name, profile, and all details concerning your character. The format for said profile will be at the bottom of this page. Details WILL include your hobbies, your family, your friends, and a brief history of your life, so please think about who your character IS, not just what he/she can DO. This character will be in Odech, MI, for the entirety of this RP. As a side note: If you have any problems with your character dying during or directly after this story, please don’t sign up. Someone, inevitably, is going to go somewhere or do something that will get them killed by the very nature of this RP. So if you don’t want to see that character you just spent two hours making, at some point, be brutally murdered, and would feel offended or upset if said event occurred, don’t sign up. If, however, you are okay with seeing yourself or one of your board-member’s characters killed, then I can assure you I will do my absolute BEST to make this the most enjoyable RP I can. It will have my undivided attention of matters on the board, and until its conclusion, I will not be starting any new RPs. I might participate in a few, but I won’t RUN any others. And I’ll try to limit my participation as best I can so I can provide you, the people who have decided to sign up, the best play experience possible.

You will start the game with the following items: A car you could find easily at a small-town dealership, a career or profession that could be found in a small town with a very small, community college, and over 50 small businesses (one of which you may run), a house, a family of one wife/husband/legal partner, and one or more children, and all the things that could be easily purchased within or near said town that could also be expected in a suburban or rural household, and a pet. You may opt out of one or more of these items, but I do require that you have at least one. Something you can lose. Even a wanderer between towns could have an automotive vehicle or a family, or even just a pet dog. A hobo with no money, no family, and no friends could have found a cat and decided to carry it from town to town and let it have the scraps from whatever he scrounged up. Be creative. Find some way to incorporate these things into your character smoothly.

After you have PM’d me your character, I will either disapprove, in which case I will tell you what is wrong with it and, if you still wish to be a part of the RP, I will hope you’ll fix it, or, if I approve, I will tell you your starting position. The time at the beginning of the RP is 7:30am, and the date is December 3, 2010.

I can’t give out very much background information, so anything I haven’t said in this section will need to be researched ICly (There is an Odech Library, as well as a library at Odech Community College, called ‘The Occ’ by some in the town.)

Below, you may find the system for this RP. It’s the system we used when I left, though I don’t know if it’s still in use. I’ll browse the forums once I’m done. By the time this is published, I will have read everything in the Roleplaying sections that has come after my departure. Anyway, here’s the system, broken down into the simplest terms possible.

I decide everything about your environment, from what your wife and kids say to you to what happens when you pull the trigger on a gun to which way the wind blows to what color the grass is, to everything in between and beyond. It helps to have someone arbitrate the environment so that you can react to stimulus instead of creating them for yourself, and can in turn give stimulus to others for them to react to (ala Real Life.) Whether you’re in combat, walking around, running away, I decide what’s near you, what it looks like, what’s around it, why, and when. Thank you, have a good night.

Here is the format I want your profile in:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Career: (put none if unemployed, retired if retired, school if too young, etc.)
Family: (Go into detail, tell me what they look like, what they’re like, what they do, etc.)
Details: (Here is where you put everything about yourself not covered above, from your history to your personality to your hobbies and your flaws and everything in between. Go wild, have fun, make a believable person.)

Now, without further ado, I present to you, humble viewers of the boards… Below the World[/u]
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William Moore awoke with a start, his head reeling. He has had the craziest dream, a dream of being chased, chased down a road with no buildings, almost a bridge. Below this road, to the sides, everywhere, there was only darkness, no light, but he could see himself, see the bridge. And far below, somehow, he could see the ground. Something was following now, some dark creature with a shadow covered by the inky blackness. Or maybe that dark cloud WAS its shadow. He didn’t know. He had been running, knowing not from what. And then he looked down on himself running, and saw a skinned corpse with the eyes dangling, the teeth bared, and wounds mutilating the bloodied muscles surface beneath. He still had his hair, but that was all. He could see where rot had begun to erode him. He had screamed, screamed loud, and the scream had come from the corpses, his, mouth. He had then awoken, just as he had begun to turn to his follower, and found his bed soaking wet, cold sweat across his face. He had awoken, and for just a moment he could have sworn he had seen that corpse at the edge of his bed, looking down. And when he began to scream, that mouth opened, and it had disappeared.

William Moore got up that morning, kissed his wife goodbye, ruffled his kid’s hair. It had been Saturday, December 1.

Later that night, his wife had gotten off the phone with the Odech Hospital, sobbing. Her husband had been in a car accident, and the skin had been peeled off of his bones by the sheets of glass and metal that had come off as one by one, three semi-trucks had rammed into his small, two-door car. He had been thrown out the window, then, and his legs had flailed as if he was running. And, according to one boy, who later would be treated in Oak Leaf Asylum just south of Odech, for trauma-related causes, he had screamed.

[Blade Knight]

Alright Aseigan, here's the openings for each character. Whenever you decide to start things up, just post the update for whichever one suits your plotline. We'll go with that character for a while, then switch it up and go from there. Enjoy!
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MAN HORRIFICALLLY KILLED IN BIZARRE CRASH

That was the headline of a newspaper sticking out of a snowbank just outside Charlie’s Truck Stop at the edge of Odech, Michigan. Adrian grunted ruefully to himself as he read the headline. Was this one cruel world or what?

Having just spent hours on the road, listening to that damn GPS (if he heard that thing “recalculate” one more time, he’d throw it out the window) and navigating the ever-deceptive Michigan snows, he finally arrived in town. Soon, after he refueled his truck and his gut, he would be able to get that load of furniture delivered and go home.

Heh heh. Home. Adrian cringed; the thought of home hasn’t held the same meaning for him these last few years. In truth, he felt more like a stranger in his own house than out on the road. No doubt Irene would only respond to him in her usual short, snappy sentences and Mark would ignore him. Thinking of “home” only made him sad, so he put it out of his mind and went into Ranger mode. Focus on the job.

He finished pumping a good fifty dollars worth of gas into his truck, replaced the pump, and strode off towards the station with his hands stuffed in his brown leather jacket’s pockets. His boots crunched as he walked over the packed snow and splashed through slush, his breath forming in cloudlike puffs in front of his face.

Just another shitty day… he thought as he opened the glass door and went inside.

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“Aw hell no!” Tyrone shouted. The apartment was so full of noise, people talking, cursing, music blaring, that only somebody nearby would hear him. It was a dump, with trash and junk everywhere and nothing organized. The smudged windows let in plenty of light… and cold air, because one of them was broken. Someone had stuffed plastic garbage bags in the hole (probably with some garbage still in them!), but it only minimally helped.

“Dammit!” he cursed again, this time loud enough to get attention. He stood in the corner of the room, where a lifeless television sat on a simple coffee table. He gestured angrily at the dead machine. “Yo guys! Major fucking problem over here!”

The already outdated TV was finally scrap parts. The popular method of fixing it, wacking it until it worked again, wasn’t going to do the trick this time. Tyrone folded his lean, muscular chocolate-colored arms across his chest, over his assorted gold chain necklaces. He was wearing the same thing he had the past few days, a black muscle shirt and extremely baggy jeans, but nobody cared. His crew, his gang, did the same thing.

“TV’s gone to hell,” he announced grudgingly with a pissed-off sigh. “What we gonna do ‘bout this shit yo?”

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Shain took a deep breath. Nobody said being the Sherriff was easy. He sat at his desk, staring down some crazy woman they just brought in for Domestic Assault. He wore his brown uniform, decorated with a star-shaped badge, some medals, and patches on the shoulders. His belt, with its pouches, radio, and gun, fit comfortably on his waist, something every cop got used to eventually. His trademark brown leather cowboy hat with a badge on the front rested at the side of the desk.

“Listen ma’am,” he said in a stern, authoritative voice, “We have to keep you in the county jail for a while until we get this mess investigated. You just gone beat the hell out of your husband, lady. That’s Assault and Battery. You’re facing felony charges, and will be held in custody until we can arrange for a bail hearing. Do you understand me?”

He braced himself for the earful he was sure to get. Types like these tend to protest their lungs out, but all it ever succeeds in doing is to give the officers listening a headache. He wondered what kind of sorry excuse he’d get this time.

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River’s Bend Park was one of Misty’s favorite places in the whole town. Situated just south of downtown Odech, it was a very peaceful location. It had a kid’s playground, a wide field with soccer nets, lots of space, and past all that, a wooded area next to the river itself. It was here that she liked to be, in the woods with the wildlife and nature. And best of all, it was often quiet and secluded, a place where she could get away and be alone.

She walked slowly off the trail and into the trees, making her way to the river that could be heard flowing up ahead. Having just got out of school, she had her backpack on over her low-cut denim jacket that only came down to her ribs. She wore a black zip-up hooded sweatshirt underneath, so she was plenty warm. Her shoes were waterproof, so she did not mind traversing the current six inches, which wasn’t all that much.

She got to the riverbank, which snaked through the woods with plenty of rocks all over the place. It was not uncommon to see assorted wildlife here all the time, even in winter. Although, she did notice a lot of birds in the trees today. It was not too cold, and the warm sun had melted the snow off the rocks and left them mostly dry enough to sit on. She selected a large one beside a mighty oak overlooking the river, and took a delicate seat with her legs crossed in front of her.

The woods were beautiful in the winter. She loved to look at all the trees with their outstretched, snow-covered branches. When there was heavy snow on the ground, at night, during snowfall, this place looked absolutely magical. But for now, she was perfectly content without having to trudge through waist-high snowbanks or having to bundle up too much just yet.

Misty took a moment just to rest and relax. She brushed long bangs of long straight black hair out of her face, revealing a multi-colored sparkle in her gaze. She had been born with a condition known as Heterochromia – she had two different colored eyes. It was her curse.

She took a long, deep sigh. “Honey, you’re not ‘different’. Don’t let what other people think bother you. You’re special. I know it,” her dad was always telling her. Yet even to this day, people were still uneasy to have anything to do with her based on their first impressions of her as a child, that she was “weird” or “strange” somehow. She closed her eyes sadly.

“I hope you’re right, daddy,” she muttered quietly.

She tried to put her woes out of her mind. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out a book and began to read.

[Aseigan Cetanu]

And the tale begins
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As Misty sat, reading her book, absorbed, she would become aware of something. This place was full of life, birds chirping, frogs croaking, ducks splashing, squirrels running. Hardly a moment went by without noise. And yet, there was silence. The absence of sound would send a shiver down the girl's spine. It felt like something out of one of her horror novels, a symbol before the monster leaps out of the closet and strikes. And then, she realized something worse; The river had stopped running. Everything had stopped, and the color was fading from the world.

The bushes ahead rustled. The leaves shook, and a single, blood-red berry dropped from the branches. It rolled along the ground, bouncing over rocks. A small cut was made in its side, but nothing came from it. It touched down to the river, and floated across, where it rolled to Misty's feet. The entire movement defied everything the girl had been taught about the natural order.

Then, a bird, a crow in fact, black as night, flitted down from the trees, and landed, eating the berry. It stood there, staring at her, as all of their environment began to move again. One eye was blue. The other was green.

[Blade Knight]

(OOC: Jesus! Way to nearly give me a heart attack ON THE SECOND POST! No, seriously, you’ve got me really creeped out right now… Nice work!)
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Misty let out a terrified gasp. She was staring at a cruel mockery of her own affliction, right down to the exact colors of her own eyes. That was the part that shocked, and hurt, most of all. She scrambled off the rock, her book (an all-time best-seller, ‘Assassin’s Creed: Destiny’ by bladeguardian) dropped and forgotten. Her hand went to her heart, which was beating so hard it hurt. She backed into the oak tree, trembling slightly and with tears in her eyes.

But, if anything could be said about Alyn Mariani, it was that she has spirit. Blinking away her tears, she fixed a bicolored scowl on the bird.

“Why?” she demanded of the crow, her voice hard and resentful. “What does this mean? What do you want!?”

[Aseigan Cetanu]

The crows mouth opened, the berry's blood-red juice staining the inside and tongue in a way that called back to the lions of Africa after the kill, and in a voice she recognized, her mother's, one word squawked forth. "Die." the crow spat. "Die. Die Die. Die." Another bird landed, and repeated the chorus in unison. One, then another, then another. Their black, flapping wings beat in chorus, their blue and green eyes flickering with malice, "Die! Die! DIE!"
Suddenly, the swarm picked up, blood-red beaks glinting in the sun, wings flapping with the volume of an airplane taking off, and they all flew past her, squawking out again and again that horrible chorus, that horrible voice. And again the world seemed normal. Staring at the spot where the crows with the horrid voices were, she would notice something on the ground. A skull, human, sat there, its grin mocking her, a horrid representation of mortality. One eye was painted blue, the other green. And from its mouth, a black serpent began to slither... it seemed to her the woods themselves, her sanctuary, were mocking her. And the contrast of the blue in the water, green in the trees, suddenly seemed purposeful... and all too hurtful to be a joke.

[Blade Knight]

Misty covered her face with her arms as the crows took flight, the wind from their rapid passing made her hair flutter wildly. Then, when it was all over and things were “normal” again, she leaned heavily against the tree and shuddered.

What was going on? That one tiny word, “Die”, had crushed the feeble boldness she had previously mustered. There was something very evil and hateful here. Something that felt very… very… wrong.

She suddenly realized that it was not safe here. She wanted desperately to be gone from this place, and so Misty turned and ran. Racing out the woods with an athletic stride, she went as fast as she could go across the park. She would keep going all the way home. Were her parents there tonight? She couldn’t remember when they got off work. She prayed that her father would be there. She would tell him everything He’d believe her. He always believed her.

She ran with everything she had. Running to escape the evil, the darkness that glared at her with her own eyes.

[Aseigan Cetanu]

As she ran, faster and faster, Misty would get the strange sense that she was being followed. She would make it home easily, nothing would interfere. To her it seemed the streets were dead, that nothing was there, no people, no cars, nothing. Looking back, she would never be able to recall a living thing that entire flight home. And yet, as she slammed the door, staring through the window, a small robin would sit with its head cocked to the side. One eye was blue, the other green, and in its mouth it held a blood red berry. It began to peck at the window, and the glass would crack. It would crack farther. Again.

The crack spread across the window, and as Misty watched with pure terror, the crack would spread into a word: "Freak."

Her mother would be staring at her from the doorway to the room. "Misty? What are you doing?"

One of her mother's eyes was now blue, the other green, and her lips were stained with blood. 'Trapped like a rat' would flow through the girls mind as she saw that was exactly her situation. Her mother blocked the only door out of the house. The windows were slowly but surely being filled with birds with their mocking eyes so cruelly similar to her own. She could see that nobody was nearby. She was deserted. Alone.

[Blade Knight]

The mad run home left Misty panting for breath, and she had no sooner shut herself inside her house when the nightmare began anew. The horrible birds, the grotesque image of her mother outside… this was all too terrible to believe.

“No…no…” she pleaded to herself between heavy breaths. “This isn’t right! It… It can’t be…” and then she was shaking again. Her mind was racing. What could be going on? Everything had been so normal, now this. Instantly, without warning, everything had changed.

“Get away!” she screamed at the birds. “Stop it! Go away!” and then, more softly, “I’m not a freak… I’m not…”

She didn’t know what to do, what to think. She needed someone, anyone, more than she needed anyone in her entire lonely life…

[Aseigan Cetanu]

Misty would hear a voice from another room. This voice was friendly, recognizable, and sent a surge of gladness from her head to her toes. "Misty? Are you there?" her father's voice would call. He walked out of the bathroom in his room, finishing with his jean button and smiling at her. "Welcome home, sweety." he would say with a smile. Just normal ol' dad, the first normal thing she'd seen since the nightmare began.

Suddenly, she would hear the breaking of glass, and as she turned towards the window it had come from, the window with FREAK painted on it in a crack, she would see that it had, somehow, reformed. Tiny chips of broken glass covered the ground in front of it, alternating with blue or green glow from the sun and whatever force held sway on them. The birds were gone, the people outside were moving, everything had returned to normal. Her mother no longer stood in the doorway.

Even as she looked at her father, she saw his eyes flash with that jolliness she loved so much about him. And her heart would skip a beat, as, for a second, she would see his eyes flash blue and green, before returning to their normal hue.

[Blade Knight]

“D-daddy?” Misty uttered in disbelief. Was this real now? Everything was gone, and her father, her hero, was here in front of her. It was almost too good to be true. Maybe it was…

She ran a hand through her long hair in an attempt to calm herself. She was still shaking, quite badly too. It was as if her heart would never stop pounding.

“I… I just need a minute, okay Daddy?” she managed to say. Even her voice was trembling. Her mind was still racing with fear, so she felt dizzy and couldn’t think straight. Was it really over? Whatever it was, it had followed her from the park to here, so she didn’t even know if she was safe or not. Should she stay, rest, pull herself back together? Or should she run again? It was too much.

If it followed her before, running probably wouldn’t help. She decided to take her chances and wobble over to the kitchen table, where she managed to drop her backpack, shrug out of her jacket, pull out a chair and sink into it. Her breath still came in ragged gasps, and she felt close to tears again. She buried her face in her hands and tried to calm down.

[Aseigan Cetanu]

Her father frowned, looking at her. "Is something wrong? What's happened?" Concern laced his voice, abundantly clear even above the rapid throbbing of her scared and frantic heart. She could tell that, even if the entire world was against her, this man, her father, would help her. She could almost feel the paternal, caring look he was giving her, searching, trying to deduce what had happened to put her in such a panic.

He walked slowly over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair, and sat down, waiting for her to tell him what had happened.

Even with her father there, the image of that crow, of her mother's bloodied lips, of the flock of birds with their cruel, hateful eyes, stood starkly out in her mind. The way they had stared at her, the way the kids at school stared at her. Her mother's voice shrieking for her to die from that crow's ragged, blood-red beak. The bird, pecking the crack into the window, the ragged letters with 'FREAK' printed boldly upon that glass. All of it, all talking to her in one voice, the voice of her mother, and beyond that, the voice of something too horrible for her to imagine. Outside the window, a crow would squawk, and she would feel pure dread ripple through her body as the carrion-eater swooped past. She knew she wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

[Blade Knight]

After resting for a while, her erratic breathing returned to normal and her heart rate subsided enough for her to relax, if only a little. Sitting next to her father was enough to drain the terror from her fair features. But even so, she still couldn’t quite manage to keep her hands steady, and the heavy sense of dread and anxiousness refused to entirely disappear.

When she had calmed down sufficiently to talk with a straight voice, she told her dad everything. The park, the run, the house, all of it, excluding no detail, and beginning and ending her story with “I swear I’m telling the truth!”

Misty sighed heavily. She was emotionally drained and exhausted.

“What am I supposed to do, Daddy?” she pleaded despairingly. “What’s… happening to me? I don’t know what’s real anymore. Isn’t there anyone who can help? Is there any way to stop this? Isn’t there…”

Freak… The word echoed grimly through her mind. Die… Die… Die…

“Daddy,” she asked. “I’m not… really a freak, am I? I’m not that different… right? “

[Aseigan Cetanu]

Misty's father would listen intently throughout the entirety of her tale, nodding occasionally and sighing at the end. "I believe you." he would say, sadness etching his face. "It isn't the first time I've heard of this type of thing in this town. This place is strange, sweety... people see things nobody should see, do things nobody should do. I believe you. You have to promise me, whatever happens, that you won't tell anybody about this, alright? Nobody."
Misty could tell by the solemn tone in his voice that he was telling the truth.

In the back of his mind, though, he didn't believe her. Not at all. Not because he didn't think such a thing was possible, but because he didn't WANT to.

He would sigh deeply again, lines creasing his brow and accentuating a frown on his face. He would sigh again, walking over and giving Misty a hug.

"Misty, I need you to do something for me, alright?" He would say sadly. "I need you to go to the grocery store up the road, and pick up some more coffee. This... is a lot to deal with, and I think it'd help my nerves, alright?"

He'd give her a half-hearted smile, and another big hug, before looking her right in the eyes. "And if you see anything like that again, just run. Just like before. Run as far away from it as you can. Don't come back here until it stops, alright? I can't think of anything I'd hate more than to see you get hurt, so don't let it catch you, alright?"

[Captain Gojira]

The cellar was dark, cold, and wet, putrid with smells from rotting fruit to animal feces. Ancient crates, barrels, and shelves, many on the verge of falling apart, were strewn about, covered with cobwebs and rat droppings, some even glass shards. All throughout the three concrete chambers, discolored with splotches and puddles, the darkness had some malevolent and haunting presence to it, a kind of frightful feeling that the lack of light normally did not bring. The farthest of the rooms, and maybe the darkest of them, resonated with the sound of rushing water.

In this room, where a large, gaping hole sat in the middle of the ground, there was a wooden crate present in the corner, and atop this crate sat a tall, daunting man cloaked in a black trench coat. He sat atop the crate with leg hanging down, the other bent up, resting on the crate. He was slouched back, his face hidden and staring downward, and in his hands he held two things; a knife in his right, a wooden shard in his left, and every few seconds, he repeated the rhythmic motion of sliding the blade against wood, sharpening it and peeling off a fresh layer of splinters. Once he peeled it, then twice, then trice, and before long, some time ago, he had lost track of it.

Wolfgang Schmit looked up, his dangerous gray eyes peering from between his thick fringes of brown hair, at the doorway. He thought of leaving, of going out into the open, where he could finally move again. Of course, he had to wait until night, when he could move undetected. What Wolfgang didn't need at the moment was unfriendly attention, be it the police or the mob. Of course, for a while now, the mafia had lost track of him, be it through the false licenses he was issued nation-wide or the lack of a paper trail. What he cared about was that he could breath now, at least figuratively.

Twinging his nose at the smell of sewage and who-knows-what, Wolfgang leaned up again, hopped off the crate, and carried on towards the doorway for the other room, making a slow walk with his coat swaying lightly with him. Fully clothed in black, he was like a shadow in its natural home, indistinguishable and untrackable. At least he wished, as far as the latter was concerned.

[Aseigan Cetanu]

As Wolfgang walked across the room, his eyes would dart to a faint, red light coming out of the cracks in the door. It would seem to move perpendicular to the old, wooden door, allowing the light to turn at a fulcrum at the outer edges of the cracks. Then, to his horror, it shot open. Nothing was there, not a creature, not a living thing. He noticed some of the surrounding cobwebs, including one very large one that had struck him as rather impressive, each had their respective resident, in the large one's case a female black widow, killed. The spiders sat dead, legs curled beneath them and their eyes white with some unimaginable force.

Then, just as soon as the door had opened, it closed again. And, somehow, standing behind this doorway, was a figure that caused so much unimaginable terror to Wolfgang that for a few moments it called the very limits of his sanity into question, stretched his mind to the breaking point of impossibility. A figure who, to all eyes, could not have been real, but who only held any REAL significance to Wolfgang before his exit from the mob.

Wolfgang's brother, Karl Schmidt, stood in the doorway, rotted holes adorning his cheeks. The skin was split where before it had been tight along the bones, and his hair was now in ragged, limp tufts atop his head. Even with all of these imperfections, though, he was there, Karl Schmidt, the dead brother who haunted Wolfgang's dreams. And in his hands was an Mk12 assault rifle, the barrel glinting with the dingy, dust-filled light that came through the one window in the room. He smiled at his brother, revealing a mouth with a partially eaten tongue, small maggots squirming as they fed on the decayed old muscle.

"Hello, Wolfy." his brother said mockingly, the rifle barrel pointed at his forehead. A small laser sight would flick on below the barrel, putting a pin-point of red light on Wolfgang's forehead. "Its been a long time, bro. A long, long time. I remember how you killed me. How I was... murdered. Me and my friends are going to enjoy this." he sneered in a cracked, hollow mockery of his brother's old voice. The one window in the room shattered, and two M14 Sniper rifle barrels poked through, laser sights now dotting his forehead, his heart, his lungs.

Wolfgang would hear splashing in the waters below, and some part of his mind knew it was more of the mob. More of his dead brother's people. Maybe others he had killed. His brother smiled.

[Blade Knight]

Misty couldn’t believe it. This had happened before? Her father knew about it? She could see it in his face – it was as if dark memories were resurfacing after a long time of being buried. His words haunted her: “This place is strange, sweety…” They had an ominous ring that made her shiver. But if he had been through this before, he would have so much to tell her, and she had so many questions.

She offered him a faint smile. “Your nerves? What about mine?”

She hugged him back, and tried her best to look brave. “I’ll get your coffee, and then it’s your turn to do the talking, okay? But before I go, I just want to know a few things. Do you think that, whatever this is, it’ll happen again before I get back? And if it does, how do I know when it stops? I hoped it was over when I left the park, but it wasn’t. It continued all the way home. So how am I supposed to know when I’m safe?”
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(OOC: Yes! ;D The Captain is in the house! Welcome and good luck! You'll need it!)

[Captain Gojira]

Terror and disbelief struck Wolfgang at once, and even as a hardened mob rebel, he widened his glaring eyes in shock of what he saw. Unbelievably, beyond all rationality and logic, Karl Schmit stood before him in a mutilated apparition of himself, wielding a weapon familiarly carried by other mob members. The two stood in confrontation of one another, but as surprised as Wolfgang was, he did not utter anything but a suppressed grunt. He couldn't make any other sound, for so surprised and even frightened by his vision he was.

"Hello, Wolfy," the monstrous thing that resembled Karl taunted.

"You!" the word was almost snarled by Wolfgang, who clenched his fists and hunkered down in an aggressive pose. As Karl brought up his rifle and aimed the laser sight at Wolfgang, he immediately reacted by lashing a hand into his trenchcoat, ripping out his Beneli M4, and bringing it up in a position mirroring Karl's, held out at eye level with both hands.

"Yo.. you're dead, damn it!" He exclaimed.

"Dead and rotting, why don't you stay that way!? Of everyone I ever killed, you're the only one I would have let live! You're the only one whose name I even remember, and how did you treat me for it!?"

The truth of Wolfgang's fear, the phobia of his dead brother, was not exactly as simple as anyone would have thought it to be. Wolfgang didn't fear Karl, dead or alive or in between, but he felt a fear of him having killed his brother. It was irrational above all else, but somehow, the guilt of knowing Karl was dead and he was responsible, was enough to bring that feeling of fright to Wolfgang's heart regardless. But that hardly mattered when he heard the window in the room shatter and its shards fall to the ground.

Quick as the devil, Wolfgang shifted one eye to the side, saw the barrels of other rifles peering in, and focused his sight on the vision of Karl.

"I hope you burn from this, pretty-boy," he remarked before pulling the trigger on the shotgun.

A blast of pellets and sulfuric chemicals went off, the sound crushing to the ears, and the malevolent, cloaked figure of Wolfgang hopped back from the recoiling force of the weapon, descending into the room's central sewer hole. He dropped down into the hole on his feet, coat fluttering around him, before splashing in the shallow water-ground and furiously turning around with his M4 at the ready.

Hearing other approaching hostiles, Wolfgang quickly raised the shotgun, scanned the ground in the darkness for the outlines of splashes, and let loose another round of shells at each one, simultaneously strafing forward into the darkness of the tunnel.

[Aseigan Cetanu]

Misty:
Her father offered her a small, meek smile, trying to help her bravery. "I don't quite know what it is. It might come again, it might not. It might stay with you for a few moments, it might be days. I just..." he sighed. "Its not something rational. I don't know. I'll explain when you get back, alright, sweety?" His face was grim, and he averted his eyes, as if it pained him to talk about it. His knuckles stood out, white as the moon, against the wooden frame of the window he now stared out of.
"I love you, sweety." he would say, and it was clear that she wouldn't get any more answers until she got back.
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Wolfgang: Karl would recoil from the shotgun blast, loosing a few bullets of his own. One of them sliced at Wolfgang's shoulder, barely nicking him as he flew down into the cellar. The sniper rifle bullets broke the concrete and sent a few pieces falling down into the sewer. As he landed at the base, up to his knees in muck and degree, he would see faces all around him. Hundreds of mobsters, rotting, dead, their flesh cracked in places, raw muscle and bone showing in some places. One particular fellow had all of the skin across his face ripped off, and Wolfgang vividly remembered spraying the acid into this man's face that did this. All of his old kills, come back to haunt him. Every mobster, policeman, everyone. Each of them held a weapon of some kind. Some held AK-47's, others had Mk12's. All of them, however, had one thing in common; they had died by Wolfgang's hands. Hundreds of them, standing around, looking at him with piercing eyes. Each barrel pointed at him.

Wolfgang would hear a splash behind him, and as he turned, would see Karl, the dead and rotting Karl, standing there with his rifle poking him in the chest. "Been waiting a LOOOOOOONG time for this, bro." he would crack out. The skin would begin to peel back from his forehead, the entire face beginning to split, and the bare face of the skull would expose itself. A gutteral voice would echo up from his throat, "A LOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time."

Bullets would ricochet off of the walls, the ceiling, and Karl's barrel would burst into light. He'd feel three, four bullets strike him, once in each hand, once in his left foot, and a final round would pierce his buttock. Somehow, with all of these weapons, they'd managed not to kill him. Then, as suddenly as they were there, they were gone. Nothing remained, not even their old cartridges. Every single one of them had vanished into thin air, during a single blink of pain.

And Wolfgang's stomach would churn as he realized this wasn't entirely true. His blood began to stain the water, and he saw that the wounds were already turning black. He was in a sewer, a filthy, infectious place, with five open wounds. This couldn't end well.

His brother's face, which had peeled off, floated by, and the eyes flickered open. The eyeballs were still there, and now it seemed renewed. Its expression was the exact same as when he had killed him. A small, blood-red berry sat in the empty eye socket, and blood streamed from the back of it, as it floated through the current and down the river of sewage.

[Blade Knight]

Misty’s father’s answers didn’t help much, but she could tell that was all she would get for now. She nodded, grabbed her jacket, and went to the door.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” she said. “I’ll be careful. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

And so, she left the house and stepped back out into the crisp, cool air of winter. She paused a moment just to look around warily. It felt strange to be back out here so soon after that terrifying incident. She had felt trapped when she was inside the house, but now she felt exposed when outside it. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

Stomping down her uneasiness, she walked out to the sidewalk and went up the block, trying to act as if nothing was wrong. Yet she felt anxious, like she was being watched. Every object could have a monster lurking behind it, every step was a potential trap. She found herself looking backwards over her shoulder a lot as well as scanning over everything more intently then usual. Her pace had a suppressed urgency to it.

Once she got to the end of the block, she turned right onto Mary Street, which she would follow until she got downtown. It wasn’t a long trip, she would be at the grocery store soon.

Perhaps it was the temperature, or more likely her own nerves. Either way, she felt a chill, so she lifted her collar, stuffed her hands in her jeans pockets, and walked briskly down the shoveled sidewalk, hoping dearly that nothing abnormal would happen.

[Aseigan Cetanu]

Misty would go unmolested the entire way to the store. The silence in the town was still eerie, but now she could hear the various civilians, the residents of Odech, walking around the town, hear the occasional chatter to break the lack of natural noises from the nearby woods. Her more pleasant situation was soon to change.
As Misty walked in to the store, the usual guy at the counter, a hefty man named Frank, beginning to bald, with a jolly grin and a tattoo of a snake that appeared to have eaten a number of gerbils because of his fat rolls running down his arm, was not there. Instead, at the counter stood an old crone, her gray hair tyed back in a bun. As Misty walked in, she gave a smile, revealing pointed teeth. She removed a pair of sunglasses to reveal her eyes. Misty would feel a chill go up her spine. Her eyes.
The woman would croak out, "Hello again, darling. Good timing. I've just finished my appointment with Frank..."
The crone would lift the man's severed head off the counter, and it would roll over to Misty, the green and blue eyes that now sat within his socket's looking directly into her. "Ru-u-u-un." Frank's familiar voice would croak out, and then the eyes would roll back in to his head, revealing red, glowing eyes which would glare at her with hate.