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 Trump Card Deathball

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PostSubject: Trump Card Deathball   Wed Dec 24, 2014 3:00 am

Word Count: 625

Amidst the thundering of yet another war between humanity, its weapons echoed across the plains telling stories of many battles before it. It seemed the destiny of mankind to be at each others throats in an awful endless struggle. The American Revolution, The Ninth and Tenth Crusades, The Brazilian Conflict...all of them were part of humanity's failure to listen. It seemed that blood was the pillar for any empire and the currency by which their soil was tilled. It would never be over until none of them remained. Yet, in spite of it all, they still dared to linger on if only as a footnote to that ever repeating bit of history. Every cannon shell, a mark of ink on an empty page by which the footfalls made their commanders proud. The pounding in the ears as every soldier tried their hand at infamy with naught but the most basic survival instincts...

Standing amidst all of it was the greatest weapon of war by any sense of the word, an abomination created out of the same weakness that spurred these men to fight onward. A flash of light and a blast of crimson across the battlements were commonplace and yet, the blood seemed to have a mind of its own moving toward the center of the volley and out into the open field. At its center stood a withered husk comprised of nothing but bone and sinew, nonetheless quite majestic and duplicitous to any onlookers. The thunder stopped briefly as both armies gazed upon the spectacle seemingly quite speechless to what they had seen. The creature had began to rebuilt itself yet again as if their bullets and explosives had no effect at all. Before the creature had time to fully recover, the armies opened fire again unleashing the last of their rounds into the monster thundering it with yet more explosives which shielded it from view and sent particles of flesh flying every which direction. Meanwhile, from within the battlefield reverberated a voice most ancient which jeered openly to all who heard it. It spoke as though amplified and carried through the instruments of battle which had silenced it but moments before.

"...Perfecccct...Your resolve is truly perfect. It's as if your desire to kill surpasses your will to live. I am truly in awe of all that you have accomplished gentlemen. You should truly be proud of yourselves. It's not often that I get treated to such a feast." From within the center of the fire, a slow and building clap echoed across the field as spectral arms reached out from the center and grabbed hold of the many tanks and cannons which were still firing their payloads. "..And now I'm afraid that I must say good night." With that, the spectral hands lifted them high into the air and sent them back down toward their compatriots with a force which set them instantly ablaze. The blood streams from their severed hosts meanwhile were trickling toward the No Life King's feet like a mighty river. Breathing in deep, Alucard merely grinned at the remaining soldiers fear through the blaze as he drank in their comrades through the blood at his feet. He chuckled to himself as the remaining soldiers turned and fled. "What pathetic creatures you are. Rather than face your executioner head on, you run like a bunch of sniveling cowards. Perhaps you weren't quite the meal I was expecting after all." With thew same grin of malice, the Nosferatu reached his iconic twin pistols through the spectral arms and with the bark of many a round, rendered the enemy silent, their blood quickly adding to the stream as their new master's eyes flashed red benethed the failing light.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Wed Dec 24, 2014 3:29 pm

Folding his hood up against the oncoming winds, Hans could smell gunpowder, mud, and blood in the air, mixing together to form the scent of the battlefield. Watching the front ranks of men fall like wheat drew no reaction from the old gundog anymore; his crimson eyes remained impassive at the sound of the artillery rattling. He didn’t twitch, despite the gargantuan War Machines desperately spitting shells at the red figure to try and stop him. They’d fail, monsters didn’t die so easily though The Captain had a feeling this would be the final battlefield of the beast, he would find someone to end him on this battlefield, he would find a soldier worthy of slaying him and if the rest had to die to find this promised saviour Alucard would do it.
We are two sides of the same coin, our lives drawn beyond what they should have; once more to the fray Hans, once more. He thought, though it rang hollow in his mind, he’d promised himself it would end a hundred times but he’s never found the right person at the right time or the right place. Turning into mist to allow a hail of bullets to pass through him, he threw his mausers aside, taking a stance as he reformed. The last of the soldiers between the monsters died, their forms shredded and mutilated in retreat falling unceremoniously, and raggedly, onto the muddy stage that was the war ground.

The Captain’s limbs were clad in dark green, the M42 Greatcoat added to his bulky figure. It made him more imposing; his body was lean, beastlike. He was truly a ponderous monster hidden beneath an impassive face; he was the incarnation of nature’s fury. Cruel, unrelenting, but impassive, drained of passion and simply content to kill without any reaction, war and battle was nothing special to The Captain at the end of the day and as his limbs tensed and relaxed he was at last ready to throw himself forwards into the fray. His cap was carried away on an ill wind, it went unnoticed, and allowing fine silver hair to be seen as the beast began his charge.
He kicked mud aside all around him, his powerful legs kicking and propelling himself forwards at a speed that left the bodies around him tossed aside through the sheer force of his stride. Another bullet, almost about to plunge into the old killer’s heart, mist, Hans turned into must and surged forwards; solidifying in position in the air to kick right down towards the beast’s head with thousands of pounds of more force than a bullet. The air ripped itself apart as it got between the kick and it’s quandary, the blow breaking the sound barrier many times over to create a god awful bang that deafened all those around, blood exploded from ears and for a second the sounds of bleeding, fighting, and dying were drowned out by the force of it.

Take that you old bastard, let’s see your response, you’re harder to kill but I hit far harder fiend, he thought, his mind ticking away beneath a visage of destruction, a thing whose kicks were legend and whose mighty strikes brought down whatever stood in his path. Propelled backwards into the air by the force of his own kick hitting something Hans turned into mist once more, avoiding a hail of shots from all directions to strike with a sweeping right slash with his booted foot, attempting to bisect the Vampire whom he once took the head of, the force was the same as before, The Captain would have been deafened but he was behind the wall of air and sound his kicks were creating. His kick sailed around, The Cap brought his heels together and threw all his momentum and power into it, his veins bulged and he blurred his foot swinging around to cleave through anything in its way.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Thu Dec 25, 2014 10:18 pm

Tonight it seemed as if all the creatures of the night inhabited the streets fulfilling their wishes of blood and slaughter. Kiyala was no different no clad completely in her black and gray hunter attire with accompanying vest too hold several knives. Her twin silver tantos adorned the holsters attached to her back as she currently stood above the violence on the roof-tops. Kiyala still had no developed her self to the point of nigh-invulnerability or raw power like some of the heavy weights that she felt on the battle field. By felt any vampire within a good proximity could feel Alucard whenever he allowed himself to 'have fun.' Kiyala decided to let loose and enjoy the night and perhaps she'd learn something from the challenges she'll surely face tonight.

As she stepped off the roof-top of the only three story building; she used a combination of her agility as a vampire and durability that allowed her to merely slide down the wall. As she landed with a thud; she quickly turned around to a group of humans being chased by a vampire towards her. She smiled maliciously as she shifted her weight and began to run towards the humans and the pursuing vampire. In a trained and efficient motion; her twin blades would find their home within her firm yet light grip. Lifting off the ground as she ran along the wall pass the humans; Kiyala then pounced from the wall delivering a rapidly spinning attack that would decapitate the vampire. The humans stopped briefly believing themselves to be saved by a shadow obscured woman in black.

But as her red eyes pierced that very darkness, she could see the fear welling up in their eyes once more until it shifted into terror. Within seconds she was on top of the screaming woman draining her mercilessly of her life blood. The other two abandoned what could have been their sister, friend or girlfriend as they ran out of the alley for their lives only to be struck by debris from Alucard's attack. As Kiyala felt the power he used on such an attack, she couldn't help but shiver feeling fear again when she hadn't had to in such a long time. It was a really humbling experience for the otherwise cocky vampire huntress.

And this night was only bound to get worse. . . .
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Sat Dec 27, 2014 7:51 pm

The roaring howls of war echo through this once great city of Britain, buildings set ablaze, corpses charged and feasted upon but now a vengeance is set to come and all the souls of those lost will be set to peace knowing that the abominations of man that had caused this will be put down. All evil shall be ripped away from this world one broken finger at a time then sent back into the fiery pits of hell with the rest of all the damned  and wicked. All vampiers, nazies and sinners alike, nobody shall stand in the way of the church, not Hellsing nor Sir Integra not even her lapdog Alucard will be freed from punishment. Not even the head demon Lucifer himself straight from his demonic abyss could stand in Anderson's way not while he lives and not while he has reason to cleanse this realm.

Anderson enters this battle knowing that blood has been shed and that him and all other Trump cards have been set into play, he now leads his legion of Iscariot troops, one thousand men to his left, another to his right. Anderson raises his left arm and then his right and he yells the words "We are Iscariot, we have been sent to do the work of God, now my army of holy souls go and kill these demonic beasts, every bloodsucking monster you can find and spread the wrath of our dear Lord Jesus Christ, PURIFY THIS HELL FORSAKEN LAND!, NOW GO!" Heinkel approaches Anderson followed by Yumie beside him/her, Heinkel asks about the fiends known as Alucard & The Captain "Hans" in which he snickered to himself and quickly replied "leave them to me, me and Alucard have some unfinished business but now is not the time for talk, you must both lead these men into battle in my absence you are now the ones who must now show the Vatican of your skills in battle, now go enough talk people are dyeing." Both Heinkel & Yumie take to the rooftops and do as Anderson commanded now it is his turn to hunt. He walks alone wielding his bayonets killing seemingly endless Nazis by means of decapitation and impalement alike, he squares them one after another showing why he is known as "Off with his head Anderson," he stands grinning enjoying every moment he kills monster after monster until finally he finds the adversaries he had been searching for since the beginning, Anderson Grinds his knives together and sharpens them knowing that his hunt will now begin.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Wed Dec 31, 2014 8:40 pm

OOC: Last chance for anyone who wants to be part of the battle to join in. I'm posting tomorrow and locking the post order.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Tue Jan 06, 2015 6:26 pm

OOC: Sorry again for the increased wait. Someone hit my car recently and I got increasingly sick. I'm making a post tomorrow but I wanted to let y'all know what happened.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Sat Jan 10, 2015 2:45 am

I understand yall are still waiting. Some things are finishing up. I have a day off today and plan to knock this outta the park along with a laundry list of other things.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Thu Jan 15, 2015 5:17 pm

OOC: Sorry i was done reading the thread a few hours ago and wad writing a long post and got logged off because of it.


Last edited by Jack on Fri Jan 16, 2015 10:43 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Thu Jan 15, 2015 8:18 pm

OOC: It's ok. If you intend to post, I can wait. Smile Sorry again everyone. Still dealing with car insurance problems and other wonderful issues along those lines. My days off are coming again and hopefully we'll finally be ready with a lot of what I've been wanting to roll out.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Fri Jan 16, 2015 11:32 am

It was dark out but not so much that one could not see because of it thought none of that really mattered to Michel now did it seeing as he was blind so being able to see things didn't really matter to him. His brutality and insanity rising to it's peak as he strutted with a sway that betrayed his feminism making him seem even more like a women then he already looks like. That insidious and eerie looking smile he had whenever he was like this not to mention his constant deep and smoothly insanity filled laughter made him seem a bit creepy. If anyone could ever see them one could see in his eyes that they where filled with a insatiable bloodlust that only comes with madness. Seeping from every part of his being his madness was undeniable to anyone who had the unfortunate (most implied to humans being) luck to see him and live to tell about it. With this little sweet and lovely war going all about him the dying and dead lay all about him but they where no fun to deal with in there current state of being.

Getting rather bored of having nobody to fight with at all Michel began to start to half screaming half still laughing at the top of his lungs in order to try and find someone. His voice naturally deep and smooth which he didn't really like very well most days. Seeing as most days he would have wanted to been thought of as a female when other first met him so that they he could shock them later on with the truth of things. It was a talent he was good at even before he had gotten his huge breast implants that help out a lot with him doing so. That deep and smooth natural voice of his betraying his manhood in a instant along with his insanity and bloodlust. Tripping over a half-dead remains of a half torn apart still dying human that was just flung his way from a nearby battle. As the man lay screaming in utter agony not really fully processing just what had happen to him slowly reaches a hand out for mercy. Only to have his head picked up and brutally beat into the ground below him as Michel started to get to his feet again. With a bit of blood now covering him given that smile and laughter of his he looked even more creepy then before.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Fri Jan 16, 2015 3:35 pm





The cold of night gripped at one's throat, would sting one's sinuses, and even chill the throat if one tried to breathe through their mouth instead. Through the twisted landscape that was the darkened city, there was the scent of blood, of liquor tainted breath, and the feeling of warm bodies moving throughout the warm city, with the occasional tinge of blood to the air.

High above the moonlit city, a full moon cascaded it's eerie glow over the city, having an effect like blacklights that made even the faintest white glow eerily, giving the impression of something from a high-end horror flick. The occasional gunshot in the darkness wasn't even indication of the war between supernaturals that may well take place tonight, these were the humans who spilled their lifeblood over what amounted to flowers and grass, and even the occasional man-made drug or drink that could temporarily make someone forget their woes and sorrows, at least for a little while. Meanwhile, small groups of people occasionally stirred the inky blackness of night as they walked through, the only light being from the small cigars or cigarettes they smoked, the embers from which would illuminate pairs of steely-eyed gazes of all hues, staring through the night like the eyes of some kind of predator. The light from the flame would occasionally cast an eerie gleam upon an aluminum baseball bat, machete, or the barrel of a gun.

A figure walked through the shadows, keeping to the walls and trees, moving silently through the night like some kind of wraith. This being knew all too well the fleeting nature of life, and found even his own unlife being a fleeting thing he had no control over. Of the ones who walked the streets at this hour, at least those of the mortal ilk, he was a Bringer of Death. He could fell large groups of them without too much effort, although doing so never brought him any pleasure.

No, what the King of Midnight sought, was GREATER prey! The kind of prey that could take hours, if not days to kill, and would leave him badly battered and bleeding as he sought to rend the flesh from it's bones, rather than flop belly-up and declare it's defeat within a few mere seconds.

The smell of death lingered in the air, overpowering even the occasional smell of evergreen or pine. Mortal noses might not smell this, but they were innately aware of Death's skeletal touch upon all they knew and loved.

"Death is our lot, and the lot of everyone we hold dear. Think or do not think upon the end of your own life, for anon it comes to us all..."

With the chant came a faint gleam shining off of the chain the dark complected man wore around his neck, and the faint glow of what looked like twin suns that were his eyes. Garbed in kevlar, two impressive guns holstered at his sides, he moved silently, methodically, a strong sense of purpose to his lithe strides. The cold, biting wind would howl through the city streets, almost as though in fear or trepidation of what was about to take place in just a few moments. The sound was like music to Maximillion's ears, as he crossed the next street, and the small hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end.

"They're here, aren't they? I can sense them peeping at me..." The low, deep, calm and deep voice drawled in a thick german accent, his dark purple gloved hands wriggling frantically at his sides, as though restless and eager to be put towards a purpose, presumably a bloody one.

"Let the night bring what it may...."

There was a slight ka-chink! And then the sound of a chain being dragged along the sidewalk, it's gleam refracting the eerie pale light from the ghastly moon that shone up above
. 




Last edited by Maximillion on Fri Jan 16, 2015 6:32 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Formatting is ****ing me off! lol)
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Isaac Von Blaze
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Sat Jan 17, 2015 8:40 am

A strange feeling washed through the man's senses. Everything... everything felt... so wrong. It was a feeling that he- no, someone else- had felt once, very long ago. Tendrils of an unseen force pulled at him from every angle. Time had no meaning; his name was no longer his own; and certainly, this body doesn't belong to him anymore. With the last of his strength, the man asked the force what it was, only to be answered, with a single word, repeating over and over again, until his consciousness faded away.
"da...ri...us"
The empty husk of the man formerly known as Isaac, was now being filled with another, older body. One that had never truly died, but was lost.
"da...rius"
Darius slowly stood up, shaking from head to toe as the tendrils continued to move through him, but were now, slowly fading away. The man drew in his first breath, and, with that, smiled for his first time as well. That smile, was now a grin, and a laugh echoed through the dark alley that another man had died in, at another time, that seemed both close to the present, yet far from it as well.
"Kill..."
The smile faded away, and Darius dropped on all fours, beckoning the wold inside to come out. Yet... nothing happened. The man cursed loudly, and checked himself for weapons. What he found was... so much better than a bayonet. What a stupid weapon it would have been, to fight monsters of the night, who've been told to keep naughty children in line... he began to walk through the streets, slowly feeling the lupine senses working their wonders, as the smell of burning flash filled his nose. He followed, at a brisk jog, weapons ready to fire.
(There's been a gap in my postings for quite a long time. Nearly a year, or two, now that I think about it. This is the original oc sheet of Darius Cerva, since that was my original guy here. I missed this place, and I'll make a new character soon! Love, John.)
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Wed Jan 21, 2015 2:32 am

OOC: Alright kiddos. I've held you up for long enough and I'm truly sorry for that. Let's hope this post can do it justice. Just know that I'm now out for blood and it's nothing personal.

The No Life King stood with a smile as the mythical creature drew itself toward him with longing purpose. With a taunting grin, the vampire Count let the kick hit him with full force and for added effect, flew backward into the air and floated down onto a nearby pedestal letting out a forced growl to lull his enemy into believing they might have damaged him. Tilting his head downward, the light shown of his red glasses casting an eerie reflection of his foes in their wake. His senses alight, he could feel the other newcomers presence and couldn't contain his excitement. From within the ancient grew a series of low growls and barks which slowly rose into chuckles of laughter.

"Truly excellent. This wouldn't be any fun if I didn't have monsters like yourselves to amuse me. What did you honestly think? That you would come and stand before me as you are now and stand the slightest chance of success? If nothing else, I applaud you fearlessness." With those words, the monster gave a slow, almost demeaning clap as if taunting his foes. "Good work gentlemen. Mazel Tov." As if through a straw, the Nosferatu drew a deep breath from the air and shuddered as if enraptured by the smell of the gore around him. Such a sweet scent. Metallic with the slight bit of madness behind it. Ah. The smells of war. And how beautiful and familiar they were. The Battle of Hungary, of Wallachia, all of these but a distant memory before a creature as aged and glorious as he. He couldn't get over how each battle brought with it new tastes and sensations, a delight like no other from fledgling to Nosferatu alike. It was perfection. Drawing in another breath, he began drawing the blood of the soldiers toward him in a stream as he pulled out his two instruments of destruction and postured them for good measure. Like great tides of a red wave, the blood of his vanquished enemies began cascading off the pedestal to which he stood, furiously trying to become one with their new master.

As their cascades drew higher, his laughter began to swell with the tide and grew louder with each passing moment.

Hahahahahaha...hahahahahaha...Very well... Here I stand...Take your best shot!

With his last words, he brought to bare both his iconic weapons of war against the werewolf and from them barked six bullets from each timed to aim at the nefarious Captain with each dodge he made. Laughing still, with a glare the creature of the night emptied the magazines from his instruments and reloaded them in but an instant. The magazines themselves hit the ground with a deafening thud while the slide of the new cartridge was like the sharpening of a blade meant for someone's neck. With another ghastly exhale, the monster drew his guns to bare against the newcomers and in succession, barked two bullets, one from each gun screaming toward his enemies.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Fri Jan 30, 2015 12:09 am

OOC: I can tell things are starting to slow down and so I'd like to help with that and maybe give some more incentive./ I'm going to reopen this thread to anyone who cares to join and am now offering a prize for anyone who can beat me. The prize is a one time approval for a character application with Category A Vampire stats or their equivalence. You will still have to submit the character for approval to avoid crossovers and Mary Sues but otherwise, anything goes. I'm also going to go ahead and put the 72 hour clock on this thread now that everything's finally back to normal in my life and I can start posting on the regular. Best of luck children.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Fri Jan 30, 2015 3:15 pm


Maximillion V. Midnight

"What makes me different than the others who roam this night?" He asked himself quietly, still a good several minutes into setting up some of the makeshift tripwires, traps and snares around that corner of the neighborhood that he had set up. Somewhere along the way, he had managed to find a bicycle chained up out in front of a house, and had simply grabbed the chain, planted a foot on the bike, and yanked the chain free, snapping it loose as though it were made out of a thin, brittle cord of vine. He then bent down, after sliding the chain through his belt, and began breaking apart the bars of the bike rack, sliding each of the seven freshly made metal bars through his belt before rising, and continuing his advance through the city, towards the sounds of steel clashing and gunshots in the distance. 

His advance would occasionally be paused as he would kick off the ground, and begin using everything from clotheslines to chains to even just metallic bars, and either sliding them into an available slot on his person, or setting up a makeshift 'trap' or 'snare', while tucking away the jury-rigged 'trigger mechanism' he could use as he advanced. He would then proceed forward, his eyes scanning the alleyways and open streets he would cross. His advance was slow, but Maximillion was patient, and he something deep inside of him - instinctively - told him that he would need every snare, trap and tripwire he could rig together to take on whatever waited for him on the other end.


"I harbor no illusions of perceived Immortality, as all things rot, wither and die. I harbor no illusions of my omnipotence, as I am amongst the weakest of God's empowered beings. I am young, and am therefore less skilled and experienced than many foes who have lived longer. I harbor no delusions of grandeur, as my significance can be seen from a satellite, beholding me as not even the tiniest blip as the scans envelope the planet on a mass global level. I am insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and that will only change through hard work, determination, and tenacity."

He spoke under his breath, a Mantra of sorts - one of many - that he used to focus his mind, and put himself in the best state-of-mind. As he spoke, a faint crimson aura would seem to flow along his body, the yellow-gold irises of his eyes beginning to glow softly like twin suns as he advanced, now only about a dozen blocks or so from the sounds of intense combat up ahead. His dark purple cloak billowed and flapped in the wind, the moonlight glinting off of the edges of his twin pistols, and the thin strips of metal that fastened the pouches to his various leather straps and belts, designed for fast reload.


"I am little more than the jackal who, outnumbered by the wolves and lions, and outclassed by the panthers and bears, must strengthen his jaws, and employ his cunning in order to merely survive. Dominance and Supremacy, these are but pipe dreams, unless I spend the time, energy and effort to make these dreams a reality, and it will not happen quickly."

His eyes hardened with resolve, which grew and intensified with each passing moment as he Maximillion chanted the rehearsed Mantras under his breath. He was now within eight blocks of the melee ahead, and his hands were hovering over his pistols, fingers wriggling as he took a deep breath (although he didn't require oxygen anymore), held it, then released it slowly. Each deliberate, methodical step brought him closer and closer (six blocks now), and the gunshots he heard now would cause a faint, fleeting flash of light, more perceivable to his praeturnatural vision than it would seem to the naked eye for ordinary humans. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he continued his deliberate dance, moving closer and closer (five blocks now), sticking to the cover of trees, nearby vehicles, and domiciles, many of which looked worse for wear, as though whatever melee took place up ahead was also taking it's toll on the neighborhood, in the form of collateral damage.


"My survival is not guaranteed, yet I do not throw away my life. I fight stronger foes, so that my own instincts, reflexes, perception and ability grow far beyond their usual realm and capacity, and become things of razor-sharp precision."

There was dust and debris being kicked up ahead, and some kind of light was causing shadows to dance through the clouds of dust between himself and whatever kind of combat was going on up ahead. Drawing his fully loaded Zaliska revolver from it's sheath with his left hand, and drawing one of the steel bars he'd ripped from one of the bicycle racks on his way here, tightly fastened in his right hand, he would pause momentarily, turning all of his senses outwards, and peering into the night, to tell if there were others there, hiding amidst the shadows as he was, and if they would be making their move once they saw signs of movement in the streets below, concealed as the movement was amongst the streets and their natural concealment.




[th](OOC: Alright, not necessary/official, but feel free to regard/disregard the map, but I'm going to use this so that it's easier for us to know where everyone is located, in relation to the Deathball Melee going on between The Captain, Anderson and Alucard.) [/th]
12:
Maximillion's Location, still 2 blocks off (Approaching Melee, having rigged the path
of 12,22,32,31,41,51 with numerous snares, traps and tripwires

25,26,35,36:
Deathball Melee

Unknown (needs placing):
Kiyala's Location
Jack's Location
Isaac Von Blaze's Location
So, from hereon out, I'm going to indicate, in a small OOC Note, if/where Maximillion advances, on the grid. Just to avoid confusion and differences in spatial location.
(Grid: Still advancing, still in Square 12)

Maximillion continued to advance quietly, soundlessly, his footfalls not making even a single sound as he maneuvered stealthily, closer and closer to the site of the sounds of combat up ahead. The occasional human came ranning by, men and women alike, trying to escape from the onslaught taking place up ahead, but they found themselves quickly struck down, a light series of taps, swift enough to be perceived as just one tap, striking a specific nerve trail at rapid enough intervals to flood the brain with signals, resulting in the target's eyes rolling up in their head before the collapsed on the ground below. He moved amongst the fleeing humans, dropping them quickly, finally coming to a stop under the concealment of a nearby tree, giving the illusion that they all dropped in sequence, either at random, or because of some kind of gas leak or something (an onlooker might not be able to tell what happened).

There'd be no point if they ended up triggering the traps behind me, Maximillion thought, scanning their fallen, prone forms quietly, curiously, before turning away. His facial expression, concealed by the dark as it was, looked like that of a man weighing a situation and what course of action to take, then deciding upon the practical path, over the one of instant gratification. As sweet as their blood might taste to me right now, there's no reason ; I'm sated, for the time being.

He continued his quiet advance, almost halfway up the block now (nearly at Square 13), his lithe form gliding over the streets like a shade from the bowels of hell, seeking some yet unrevealed prey. The moonlight glinted from the oblong objects held in the figure's hands, possibly (and intentionally) catching the eye of any onlookers, although his form - in and of itself - would remain concealed, only the occasional flutter of dark purple cloth appearing from between the leaves of one tree, car, alleyway or another, before vanishing as quickly as it had come.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil....


Last edited by Maximillion on Fri Feb 06, 2015 2:58 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Fri Jan 30, 2015 7:38 pm

OOC: sorry for waiting so long I thought I had to wait for the ones who posted before to post before I could again. Also it would be nice to have a time frame for me to count so that I know others are no longer actively posting in the thread.

Getting up Michel smelt the sent of a vampire and surprising he was scared from just being near him as if it was the legend that his old used to scare him as a kid. Ironically if only he could see would he have known how true those stories where and who had thrown that now dead body his way. His laughing dying down a bit but never complete gone or different then it was before. With a fake confidence he stood up and began to get joyful at the thought of a bloody battle. As he walked a female voiced in the distance was screaming his name for him to stop killing people and calm. Laughing in a truly humored voice that was also deep and full of insanity to him his madness was a blessing and anything else a burden. Unwillingly stopping he was thrown into a rage that mad him lose any of his self-control he had left inside. Screaming in his rage it was painful for his friend to listen to as she started to cry at seeing act like rabid beast. Unable to keep him controlled for much longer she knew that in his blood-lust he would kill her this time as he had grown strong and herself weaker. Before she could speak to him he broke free of he spell and reached out to grab her in order to kill. Sniffing the air Michel noticed her perfume that she normally wears and for a tiny second looked normal for what he normally looks like at least. Not believing her own eyes the witch just stood there as her friend was as you could say a bit dazed. Taking advantage of the moment before it was to late she ran up to her old friend and gave him a hug whispering his favorite song he used to love. Calming down from the cursed blood-lust that he has had wanted to keep locked away inside himself. Michel thanked her for being there in his time of need just as she always is.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Tue Feb 03, 2015 4:07 pm

Π


Last edited by Maximillion on Fri Feb 06, 2015 2:57 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Thu Feb 05, 2015 1:18 pm

OOC: Max you're supposed to wait for the rest of us to post before you post again. I'mma have to humbly request you remove it so I can post.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Fri Feb 06, 2015 2:58 pm

((OOC: Sorry, I compiled my posts and removed the text from the elaboration post)
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Sun Feb 08, 2015 12:28 am

OOC: ugh your right it is slowing down, if any progress happens like more ppl post or the battle locks PM me.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Sun Feb 08, 2015 1:56 pm

(OOC: What am I, chopped liver? I'll give you a run for your money, if you expend the effort, Mr. Anderson...)
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Mon Feb 09, 2015 7:29 pm

OOC: So I'm gonna make the post now but here's how it goes. Once the original person who posted posts again, the order is typically locked from that point and it is supposed to go in order according to who posted at which times after them. Give me a bit to get inspired and I will be making that post...
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Mon Feb 09, 2015 8:19 pm

(OOC: May I get a fresh copy of the Post order, for future reference, please?)
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Mon Feb 09, 2015 8:37 pm

OOC: It's already in here...Just go back to the first posts. Also, apparently before I can even make the post, Anderson...you're up.
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Mon Feb 09, 2015 8:52 pm

((OOC: I didn't see the post detailing the Post Order, so here:

• Alucard
• The Captain
• Kiyala
• Anderson
• Jack
• Maximillion
• Isaac Von Blaze

Also, you mentioned a "72 hour" limit on waiting. Is that how long we wait until we skip that person, or...?))
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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Mon Feb 09, 2015 8:56 pm

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PostSubject: Re: Trump Card Deathball   Thu Feb 12, 2015 10:15 am

((OOC: Okay, can we stop posting OOC in this thread? I know I've been doing it too, but I keep expecting a battle post when I see a Notification, and its just someone posting a forum link or talking about stuff. I can't find the old one, so... http://nightshaderpg.darkbb.com/t3278-deathball-ooc-thread#30506 ))
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