6/29/10 06:22 pm - Role play sample.
Dark brooding clouds blanketed the skies from horizon to horizon, and the air went from humid to cold. A strong gust of wind had sprung up almost out of nowhere, making its way through the city, sending old newspaper and paper bags swaying in its wake. The unexpected downpour of torrential rain that claimed the city came in a rush and it covered the streets in a shimmering wrap of moisture. Tonight the city was empty, as it usually was at dusk as of late. All that was good in Los Angeles slunk away like a beaten dogs into their homes for a nights refuge from the evil that lurked in the city at nightfall.
Los Angeles formally that name invoked apparitions of fame, but now it only inspired dread. The city had transformed itself from the hub of the West side to an anthropologist's wet-dream. A living breathing test of Darwinian theory; Survival of the fittest. It all suited the platinum blonde vampire well enough, he was almost designed for such a life-style. He lived off his gut, and made his moves based off of instinct and sense;Eat, sleep, shag, and self-defense. In four words that summed up Spike. He thrived in this sort of atmosphere.
The fleeing Vampire didn't break stride as he ran down the sleek, wet street, though he was by no means graceful, rather more along the lines of aggressive. He trudged almost violently down the rain assailed street, taking sharp turns into various alleys, leaping, climbing, and navigating his way through various other obstacles by other means. His pace was quick, his lean agile body though sore and beaten continuing on despite the fatigue.
Spike was beaten up to say the least; Brown flaking dried blood stains decorated the pale surface of his face and neck, though the descending rain beating against flesh were returning the crimson pigment to the staling blood, making the blood trickle down his neck afresh. His left eye swelled lightly, the eye itself though was not shut, and remained visible through bruised mound of swelled flesh. The scabbing slash from where the dried blood came was the centerpiece of the acquired wounds; it was a raking slash of claw marks all deep, and if not for his undead condition medical attention would have been required.
His attire was ragged, its dark hues hiding the plethora of blood stains -- some of it his, most of it not -- that existed on his form. The trademark duster had a patch-work of rips in it and tears in it, his shirt as well nearly completely ripped off, the holes inside it revealing gaps of bruised, taut flesh. Blood stains on denim jeans were more evident, splotches of crimson gore decorated them, creating abstract art on faded denim. His boots however remained pristine, but they were saturated in water and quite uncomfortable at the moment.
The sound of hissing rain echoed out in uncadenced minor keys, filling the otherwise hushed night. But the Sabbath of silence was abruptly broken and thrown into discord by the resounding roar of what chased him. That god awful sound reverberated off walls and carried to and fro before eventually fading with a hollow echo, the rats -- the only living thing Spike had seen in quite awhile -- that had been carrying out the normal routine gathering food scattered abruptly, seeking refuge in whatever hole they could find.
His pace quickened and he turned abruptly into an alley running down it, scaling a chain-link fence at the end, tearing flesh and leather more as he muscled his way through barbedwire at its peak, dropping to the pavement he landed unsteadily stumbling somewhat and nearly falling, but through quick footwork he managed to maintain poise and lop off into a run once more. The Vampire runs hard through the maze of alleys, his boots splashing through puddles of icy water, his body storming through barriers of plywood and razor wire, and leaping over mountains of garbage bags obstructing his path.
Another fence was scaled and climbed over bringing him to a dead end. He found himself standing amidst a half-constructed building, it was the skeletal form of a skyscraper; steel dark piles, crowned with a spidery labyrinth of steel girders rose up into the heavens. Only the vaguest outlines of it were discernible. What chases him descended abruptly from the weeping heavens; The large, agile bulk of a dragon landed perched high atop of the steel graters. It's hulking form graceful, despite its large size. Slitted yellows eyes peered down at Spike almost curiously, and Spike threw his hands up in the air shouting in frustration.
"Bugger all this running, and --" He leaned down picking up a chunk of discarded cement, hurling at the dragon "-- Bugger you, you oversized bloody iguana!" The chunk of cement heaved somehow reached the dragon, bouncing off it's dense skull, the dragon sneered, his lips drawing back tight before it snorted flames into the air. Spike didn't seem at all impressed by the display, eyes rolled -- "Yeah, blow that out your arse you fairy!" He shouted up. The Dragon roared again, then dive bombed off its lofted position in the air, rushing towards the ground like a falling rock. Before it touched the ground, however, its massive wings flapped, sapping momentum from its fall, allowing it to land gracefully on the ground. It lurked forward on its legs towards Spike, and the Vampire remained standing where he was. "Oi, you stupid git, you think I'm scared of you because you're the size of a bleeding building? Well, I'm not, you're just and oversized, cold blooded sissy."
The beast paused a moment and It stood there -- there was no gnashing of teeth, no defiant snarls, no shooting it flames. It just stood there, watching him with eyes as cold and old as the edge of time. Plenty of people had seen Spike at his best, but a lot more had see him at his worst. Never though had anyone seen him like this; The usually selfish Brit prepared to lock into combat with the unimaginable beast, not for money, or glory, or some bimbo’s love, but because it was the good and heroic thing to do. "Well, come on then, let's get this over with." The Vampire stood there, as did the Dragon, both appraising each other, with two very different intellects, but ultimately boh their actions would lead to something primal.
They stood apart, neither moving. It was almost as if there was an invisible clock somewhere nearby, ticking away seconds, and some unspoken agreement allowed both of them those seconds to study one another. Then, as if the clock had stopped, they launched into action. The Dragon lunged at Spike, and he in turn rolled out of its path. The enormous Dragon missed its mark, but it landed without slowing, using it’s momentum to propel itself into a sharp turn its wings flaring out to ride a gust of wind, sending it's massive form soaring at Spike. "Bloody hell!" The Vampire hissed before diving to the ground to narrowly avoid being swept airborne by the Dragon. The Dragon took to the air circling, and Spike felt pretty vulnerable standing out in the open, he didn't have himself a magic sword, a talisman or anything of that sort either. Odds didn’t seem exactly in his favor.
He moved over to the scrap heap of discarded material, looking for something sharp and hard, within it he found a pipe; it was sharp, rusted and capable of stabbing. Again it wasn't no magic sword, but he had little options. Testing the balance of it, he took an absent swing with the pipe, then glared up at the cloudy sky, squinting against the rain as he searched for the massive beast. A mighty screech was heard, followed by the rapid descent of the Dragon, it was coming right at him, gaping maw wide open revealing a maw filled with sharp teeth, Spike planted his feet and tensed his muscles, then the dragon snapped those teeth at him, he avoided with a step back, swinging the pipe around in an clumsy attempt to it, but he missed.
The Dragon took to the air circling, Spike grunted. Waiting for the next dive, the Dragon dropped again attempting to bite off one of Spike's limbs again, but this time Spike adjusted when the Dragon attempted to bite down on him, he avoided then he leapt into the bulk of the dragon, poising the pipe like a spear in his hands, clenching it tightly as he drove it down hard. The pipe was driven so hard it broke through the scale hide, impaling its left wing, green blood spewed. The Dragon hit the ground hard, tumbling hard along the pavement. Spike felt the thrill of victory and stalked on towards the Fallen foe -- but the Dragon was not so inclined to agree. His head turned his maw opening and he sank his fangs into Spike's arms, biting deep. Spike felt tendons, sinews and flesh rip, he growled. The dragon snapped his head left, sending Spike flying backwards thirty feet, tumbling over construction equipment, slamming into the steel foundation of the building to be so hard that a metal thud was heard. Spike slumped against the wall nearly succumbing to unconsciousness, but somehow he managed to pull himself to his feet, though no his arm lacked mobility.
The pipe had pinned the Dragon uncomfortably ground, he was impaled by it, its wing stuck to the pipe rooted into the ground. The Beast screeched and pulled at it, Spike smirked, stalking towards his fallen foe. The Dragon turned towards Spike, shooting flames in a panic. "Stupid Git." Spike hissed, the dragon was in a panic, screeching wildly, struggling to free itself. The vampire lifted a cinder block, albeit with some difficulty because of his wounded arm, he walked to the fallen dragon, who hissed at him, and attempted to breathe flames and consume Spike, but before he could, he slammed the cinder block hard down on its narrow head. With an audible crack, the skull split, brain matter and blood gushed into the air in a flourish, staining Spike's face and shirt.
Stalking away from the corpse, Spike sat down on a workers bench, reaching into his duster. Pulling out his cigarettes, sliding free from the pack, and lighting it with a pack of matches. His hand cupped the cigarette a bit, protecting it from the rain, he took a long drag and stared contemplatively at the fallen foe. "So, this is what it's like to kill a myth, didn't even need a magic sword".
Los Angeles formally that name invoked apparitions of fame, but now it only inspired dread. The city had transformed itself from the hub of the West side to an anthropologist's wet-dream. A living breathing test of Darwinian theory; Survival of the fittest. It all suited the platinum blonde vampire well enough, he was almost designed for such a life-style. He lived off his gut, and made his moves based off of instinct and sense;Eat, sleep, shag, and self-defense. In four words that summed up Spike. He thrived in this sort of atmosphere.
The fleeing Vampire didn't break stride as he ran down the sleek, wet street, though he was by no means graceful, rather more along the lines of aggressive. He trudged almost violently down the rain assailed street, taking sharp turns into various alleys, leaping, climbing, and navigating his way through various other obstacles by other means. His pace was quick, his lean agile body though sore and beaten continuing on despite the fatigue.
Spike was beaten up to say the least; Brown flaking dried blood stains decorated the pale surface of his face and neck, though the descending rain beating against flesh were returning the crimson pigment to the staling blood, making the blood trickle down his neck afresh. His left eye swelled lightly, the eye itself though was not shut, and remained visible through bruised mound of swelled flesh. The scabbing slash from where the dried blood came was the centerpiece of the acquired wounds; it was a raking slash of claw marks all deep, and if not for his undead condition medical attention would have been required.
His attire was ragged, its dark hues hiding the plethora of blood stains -- some of it his, most of it not -- that existed on his form. The trademark duster had a patch-work of rips in it and tears in it, his shirt as well nearly completely ripped off, the holes inside it revealing gaps of bruised, taut flesh. Blood stains on denim jeans were more evident, splotches of crimson gore decorated them, creating abstract art on faded denim. His boots however remained pristine, but they were saturated in water and quite uncomfortable at the moment.
The sound of hissing rain echoed out in uncadenced minor keys, filling the otherwise hushed night. But the Sabbath of silence was abruptly broken and thrown into discord by the resounding roar of what chased him. That god awful sound reverberated off walls and carried to and fro before eventually fading with a hollow echo, the rats -- the only living thing Spike had seen in quite awhile -- that had been carrying out the normal routine gathering food scattered abruptly, seeking refuge in whatever hole they could find.
His pace quickened and he turned abruptly into an alley running down it, scaling a chain-link fence at the end, tearing flesh and leather more as he muscled his way through barbedwire at its peak, dropping to the pavement he landed unsteadily stumbling somewhat and nearly falling, but through quick footwork he managed to maintain poise and lop off into a run once more. The Vampire runs hard through the maze of alleys, his boots splashing through puddles of icy water, his body storming through barriers of plywood and razor wire, and leaping over mountains of garbage bags obstructing his path.
Another fence was scaled and climbed over bringing him to a dead end. He found himself standing amidst a half-constructed building, it was the skeletal form of a skyscraper; steel dark piles, crowned with a spidery labyrinth of steel girders rose up into the heavens. Only the vaguest outlines of it were discernible. What chases him descended abruptly from the weeping heavens; The large, agile bulk of a dragon landed perched high atop of the steel graters. It's hulking form graceful, despite its large size. Slitted yellows eyes peered down at Spike almost curiously, and Spike threw his hands up in the air shouting in frustration.
"Bugger all this running, and --" He leaned down picking up a chunk of discarded cement, hurling at the dragon "-- Bugger you, you oversized bloody iguana!" The chunk of cement heaved somehow reached the dragon, bouncing off it's dense skull, the dragon sneered, his lips drawing back tight before it snorted flames into the air. Spike didn't seem at all impressed by the display, eyes rolled -- "Yeah, blow that out your arse you fairy!" He shouted up. The Dragon roared again, then dive bombed off its lofted position in the air, rushing towards the ground like a falling rock. Before it touched the ground, however, its massive wings flapped, sapping momentum from its fall, allowing it to land gracefully on the ground. It lurked forward on its legs towards Spike, and the Vampire remained standing where he was. "Oi, you stupid git, you think I'm scared of you because you're the size of a bleeding building? Well, I'm not, you're just and oversized, cold blooded sissy."
The beast paused a moment and It stood there -- there was no gnashing of teeth, no defiant snarls, no shooting it flames. It just stood there, watching him with eyes as cold and old as the edge of time. Plenty of people had seen Spike at his best, but a lot more had see him at his worst. Never though had anyone seen him like this; The usually selfish Brit prepared to lock into combat with the unimaginable beast, not for money, or glory, or some bimbo’s love, but because it was the good and heroic thing to do. "Well, come on then, let's get this over with." The Vampire stood there, as did the Dragon, both appraising each other, with two very different intellects, but ultimately boh their actions would lead to something primal.
They stood apart, neither moving. It was almost as if there was an invisible clock somewhere nearby, ticking away seconds, and some unspoken agreement allowed both of them those seconds to study one another. Then, as if the clock had stopped, they launched into action. The Dragon lunged at Spike, and he in turn rolled out of its path. The enormous Dragon missed its mark, but it landed without slowing, using it’s momentum to propel itself into a sharp turn its wings flaring out to ride a gust of wind, sending it's massive form soaring at Spike. "Bloody hell!" The Vampire hissed before diving to the ground to narrowly avoid being swept airborne by the Dragon. The Dragon took to the air circling, and Spike felt pretty vulnerable standing out in the open, he didn't have himself a magic sword, a talisman or anything of that sort either. Odds didn’t seem exactly in his favor.
He moved over to the scrap heap of discarded material, looking for something sharp and hard, within it he found a pipe; it was sharp, rusted and capable of stabbing. Again it wasn't no magic sword, but he had little options. Testing the balance of it, he took an absent swing with the pipe, then glared up at the cloudy sky, squinting against the rain as he searched for the massive beast. A mighty screech was heard, followed by the rapid descent of the Dragon, it was coming right at him, gaping maw wide open revealing a maw filled with sharp teeth, Spike planted his feet and tensed his muscles, then the dragon snapped those teeth at him, he avoided with a step back, swinging the pipe around in an clumsy attempt to it, but he missed.
The Dragon took to the air circling, Spike grunted. Waiting for the next dive, the Dragon dropped again attempting to bite off one of Spike's limbs again, but this time Spike adjusted when the Dragon attempted to bite down on him, he avoided then he leapt into the bulk of the dragon, poising the pipe like a spear in his hands, clenching it tightly as he drove it down hard. The pipe was driven so hard it broke through the scale hide, impaling its left wing, green blood spewed. The Dragon hit the ground hard, tumbling hard along the pavement. Spike felt the thrill of victory and stalked on towards the Fallen foe -- but the Dragon was not so inclined to agree. His head turned his maw opening and he sank his fangs into Spike's arms, biting deep. Spike felt tendons, sinews and flesh rip, he growled. The dragon snapped his head left, sending Spike flying backwards thirty feet, tumbling over construction equipment, slamming into the steel foundation of the building to be so hard that a metal thud was heard. Spike slumped against the wall nearly succumbing to unconsciousness, but somehow he managed to pull himself to his feet, though no his arm lacked mobility.
The pipe had pinned the Dragon uncomfortably ground, he was impaled by it, its wing stuck to the pipe rooted into the ground. The Beast screeched and pulled at it, Spike smirked, stalking towards his fallen foe. The Dragon turned towards Spike, shooting flames in a panic. "Stupid Git." Spike hissed, the dragon was in a panic, screeching wildly, struggling to free itself. The vampire lifted a cinder block, albeit with some difficulty because of his wounded arm, he walked to the fallen dragon, who hissed at him, and attempted to breathe flames and consume Spike, but before he could, he slammed the cinder block hard down on its narrow head. With an audible crack, the skull split, brain matter and blood gushed into the air in a flourish, staining Spike's face and shirt.
Stalking away from the corpse, Spike sat down on a workers bench, reaching into his duster. Pulling out his cigarettes, sliding free from the pack, and lighting it with a pack of matches. His hand cupped the cigarette a bit, protecting it from the rain, he took a long drag and stared contemplatively at the fallen foe. "So, this is what it's like to kill a myth, didn't even need a magic sword".