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John
Oct 14, 2013 23:16:03 GMT -5
Post by Danielle on Oct 14, 2013 23:16:03 GMT -5
For Shroomy's OC John, alone in the asylum.
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John
Oct 15, 2013 16:53:33 GMT -5
Post by Danielle on Oct 15, 2013 16:53:33 GMT -5
(I'm sorry for the delay, Shroomy. But, you gotta wait for Soul's intro first. He sets the mood/setting and lets you know about the asylum's past a bit. It's kinda stuff you need to know. So... yea. Sorry.)
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John
Oct 15, 2013 17:43:59 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by shroomcloud on Oct 15, 2013 17:43:59 GMT -5
Oh sorry I guess I didn't read correctly. So sorry.
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John
Oct 15, 2013 18:27:18 GMT -5
Post by Danielle on Oct 15, 2013 18:27:18 GMT -5
(nah, it's okay. It's my bad. I didn't realize he had a special intro planned when I wrote the rules and stuff. I should add that in there.)
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John
Oct 15, 2013 19:12:30 GMT -5
Post by soulknight18 on Oct 15, 2013 19:12:30 GMT -5
I'm sorry for the delay, here is the intro.
Beyond the busy streets and sparkling lights of a sleepless city displaying regular atmospheric security for mundane mortal whims of the casual matropolus lifestyle, was a much darker, more dismall place. Smaller in comparisen to a major populace, but far more treacherous and insidious, and yet, JUST as restless. Many have forgotten this location and left it to rot within its own putrid foundation after its grusome demise from a ruthless fire...whether it was accidental or intentional it made no difference, for this place, once was a safe and nuturing enviroment for the mentally sick and the suffering scared, is now a bleak den of an evil creature that sings in the screams of insanity and dance in the blood of its unfortunate victims...
far from the city was a vast forest, split off by a single highway that serves as one of the few exits and entrances out of the populace. The trees were actually quite beautiful during the high of spring, their leaves were vibrant and lush with emerald life; fat from feeding off the warm rays of the sun...but now, in the dead of fall, the night of hollow's eve creeping on the final day of october, the trees were left barren and desolate of all of their green foilage. The muddy ground beneath their damp trunks had already consumed the fallen leaves, as if the very land had casted any sign of life away. It would seem to have succeeded, seeing as how that, not only were the foliage gone, but the forest was void of any sound of animal activity, nocturnal or otherwise, like some instinct or overwhelming impulse drove them away from their territory during this time of the year. Perhaps to those who are spectacle, that might seem natural since most animals do migrate depending on the seasons...never the less it still left an eery, almost haunting atmospere. The only sound that detached dead silence from the nightfell woods was the comming droplets of a heavy and cold rain.
As the night reached its darker hours, the clouds thickening to blot out the moon, the only source of light that could have provided for any lost traveler, the rain had proven relentless and unforgiving as it turned from a gentle drizzle, to pounding downpour. Great veins of lighting followed by the bone rattling booms of thunder soon ensued, and the chilling air had sunk to another 5 degrees. However, for anyone that would seek refuge, a cave or a stationary cabin would be nowhere to be found...but there is still that place. If discovered, there is a single gravle road, a wet and rocky path that leads straight to an area closed off from the dead woods with a brick wall peramiter, its only entry way is a single gate where its black bars and weak chains had been corroded by years of rust. Above the gate was an arching sign that read a single word that suggested the name of the estate as it read with patches of rust on its metalic service, "HAWKINS"
For those that are familiar with the town's history, there was a rehabilitation penitentiary back in the early 50's that was created to help psychologically nurse the insane and mentally disabled. Like how the trees that hide its property from the neighboring city, it too was once lively and peacefully safe...but then...things changed, patients were becoming less sociable, results of mental recovery where degrading, and soon the penitentiary was changed to an Asylum for violently deranged psychopaths, then the facility was shut down forever after the fire came and destroyed almost an entire wing. After that, what was left of the estate was now just an empty building, its electricity cut off, its water drained, everything was taken away, nothing remains...but thats what makes it strange. Nothing? How would the be strange? for a half destroyed abondoned building with no proper maintenance that has been left to endure the forces of nature should have been a perfect nesting ground for rats, a cultivating paradise for vegitation, a free buffet dinner for termites...and yet, there is still nothing. No vermin scurring across its marble floors, no moss growing over its walls, not even the smallest of insects dare go inside this place...why? Perhaps for the same reason why there are no animals in the woods, something is driving them away, they sense something that compells them to retreat and flee away, that denies any kind of plantlife to grow near it, everything inside its walls is now dead. The hedges that were once trimmed so neatly had been reduced to little more than twigs, the once lush green grass is now grown and prickly, absorbed into the mud to join the leaves, and the gardens, its flowers once tended with careing, gentle hands had whilted and withered long ago.
But deep inside the asylum, something yet still stirs, something that had driven all feral creatures away and had denied any life to sprout from the dark tainted dirt that surrounded its home. Now it craves, it hungers, it lusts for blood and the first sound of an intruding step tapping gently against the hard dusty floor, aroused its compulsion...a preist would pray to God's mercy, but this place, this dark, this deathly place, had been forsaken by God long ago...
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John
Oct 15, 2013 20:30:12 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by shroomcloud on Oct 15, 2013 20:30:12 GMT -5
Somewhere inside of the asylum,deep in it,John sat In a torn leather arm chair. His ruffled dark black hair clung to his face, his hoodie falling down over his pale skin when he stood up. His pale blue eyes turned to the door of his room,he looked at his bony hands and arms. "How long have I been sitting here?" He muttered to his self. His long scythe sat in the corner, he left the room,leaving his scythe.
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John
Oct 15, 2013 23:49:05 GMT -5
Post by soulknight18 on Oct 15, 2013 23:49:05 GMT -5
As he left his room, foolishly leaving his scythe behind, the boney man found himself standing in a long dark corridor, the pale, blastered dry walls were damp from years of absorbing moisture from rain. The sound of thunder rumbled outside, roaring clearly, even through the thick walls. at one end of the corridor lead to a corner that pivited to the left while the other end proceeded to go straight until meeting what appeared to be a door of an office, whether it was locked or not was left to be discovered. A decision needed to be made, for there wasnt a single spark of light that could help the adjustment of his vission. The door was barely visible as it was and it mustve only been 15 feet away. Perhaps he could find a match or a lighter in the supposed office...
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John
Oct 16, 2013 7:19:19 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by shroomcloud on Oct 16, 2013 7:19:19 GMT -5
John rubbed his eyes.He tried to look around in the darkness. He managed to put out the office. He walked toward it.
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John
Oct 17, 2013 0:30:48 GMT -5
Post by soulknight18 on Oct 17, 2013 0:30:48 GMT -5
As the man slowly approached the door, the sound of his dry, hard footseps started to change to what felt more like a wet, dripping noise, they same you would hear when walking across a shallow puddle, but there was something off, the fluid beneath the soles of his shoes seemed thick, and there was a stronge scent to them, almost metalic...suddenly something causes him to stumble and what he thought was just a puddle soon became a deep pot hole when he suddenly felt the mysterious liquid up to his shins...it was strange, everything else, the floor, the walls, the very air was cold, almost to the point where it could snip at his nose...but this fluid was very warm, very FRESH. Though he was unable to see it clearly, it soon became obvious of what it was that he had just tripped in, the strange iron scent, the warm, thick, oozing fluid soaking into his shoes and lower genes...he was standing in blood.
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John
Oct 17, 2013 7:25:23 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by shroomcloud on Oct 17, 2013 7:25:23 GMT -5
John strangely looked at the misplaced blood. He stuck his finger in it then licked his finger. "Fresh...too fresh..." He spoke quietly. He got up.
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John
Oct 17, 2013 13:34:35 GMT -5
Post by soulknight18 on Oct 17, 2013 13:34:35 GMT -5
When he did, suddenly, as if waking up from a dream, the blood was gone, and so was the hole he had stepped in. Not a single drop of precious fluids could be detected. The door however that still remained closed infront of him was still there, as if waiting for him.
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John
Oct 17, 2013 16:01:59 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by shroomcloud on Oct 17, 2013 16:01:59 GMT -5
John opened the door and went in, Examining the room infront of him.
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John
Oct 17, 2013 16:39:37 GMT -5
Post by soulknight18 on Oct 17, 2013 16:39:37 GMT -5
Inside the room indeed seemed like a office, though the lack of light was still priving difficult to navigate through the room. Eventually, he managed to get better barrings of his surroundings, he can tell that he was next to a desk that was centered in the room, he could hear the rattling of rain banging against the glass of windows that portrayed what looked like an enclosed garden, to vast and too dark to see it all clearly. On the right side of the room, there was a shelf, empty on dusty, every object that was once there was removed long ago. On the right, there was a large cobinet, most likely used to store files or medical previsions, however, it was closed so it was unclear what contents laid within.
The desk was also an option to search through since it also had droors, though some of them seemed to be missing. With a flash of lighting, the room was lit up from the window, granting him a breif picture of where everything was.
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John
Oct 17, 2013 17:53:57 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by shroomcloud on Oct 17, 2013 17:53:57 GMT -5
John opened the cabinets and bent down to search the drawers of the desk.
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John
Oct 20, 2013 20:28:21 GMT -5
Post by soulknight18 on Oct 20, 2013 20:28:21 GMT -5
In the drawers he finds what appears to be an old metal flashlight, hard and heavy, its cold alloy surface tingled in his grip. With a flip of the switch, the bulb inside the lense flickered to life in a bright beam that illuminated the direction he was pointing at, however, as the light shined through the foggy glass of the office door, he saw what seemed to be the silhouette of a shadowy figure standing right outside the office. but by the time the door could be reached and opened...the corridor was empty, only dust and a damp musky scent of wet plastered wall and the chill of the icey air.
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John
Oct 20, 2013 20:37:41 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by shroomcloud on Oct 20, 2013 20:37:41 GMT -5
John stuttered to open the door. His eyes widened
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John
Oct 20, 2013 20:41:19 GMT -5
Post by soulknight18 on Oct 20, 2013 20:41:19 GMT -5
The corridor, still empty, suggested that perhaps it was nothing, perhaps the glass was severely smudged and thats what the cause was. Then, at the end of the corner turn of the corridor he could hear the tiny sound of water drops echoing from the darkness. Drip...drip...drip...drip it wnt, in the exact rythm, like a steady beat to a drum.
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John
Oct 20, 2013 21:17:16 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by shroomcloud on Oct 20, 2013 21:17:16 GMT -5
John opened the door and walked down the hallway.
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John
Oct 21, 2013 0:33:57 GMT -5
Post by soulknight18 on Oct 21, 2013 0:33:57 GMT -5
As he ventured further down the corridors, passing multiple doors leading to other offices, cell rooms, and other facilities, the sound of the dripping water still seemed so distant. Every bathroom he passed was either too dry and drained to produce any leaking, perhaps it was the rain, maybe it lead to a way out of this strange place...and yet, the dripping was so distant...drip...drop...drip...drop...drip...drop...then, as if a nob had been turned, the dripping ceased.
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John
Oct 21, 2013 7:15:16 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by shroomcloud on Oct 21, 2013 7:15:16 GMT -5
John stopped walking when he heard the dripping stopped. He looked around,clearly confused out of his mind.
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