Das Verlorene

[Distarius_WhiteRobes]

Notice: Before joining this RP please check with either myself or Jareena Faye. You can find us under the Yahoo Messenger tags of Distephano70 and Jesusfreak58237, respectively. It's nothing personal, just to keep the direction clear. That being said, enjoy the show.

 

 

 

The city of Das Verlorene,

2079,

 

Castle Grünfeld,

Wine Cellar,

 

 

The linchen to my left tore the shotgun from my hand. I would have been able to prevent it, but I was busy with the other on my right. I didn't really react emotionally other than fueling my ever strong hate for the beasts. I dealt a kick to the one on my left, knocking it to the dank and dreary stone wall, the mold barely showing in the one free light bulb hanging from the ceiling, but ten times as easily smelt. With my left side free, I reached down to my belt and retrieved a silver crafted stake, which I plunged into the chest of the linchen on my right. It shreaked and threw its head up in pain before its blood began to boil from within. I didn't bother watching the gory death I had already seen ten times, but pulled out the stake and turned my attention to the other linchen.

 

I didn't really get a chance to deal with this one. One of my hunting partners, Jacob, had already turned his uzi on it, and pumped it with more silver than was probably necessary. Either way the Linchen was all but torn apart. Through my black motorcycle helmet I couldn't see far on either side peripherally, so I hadn't been able to realize there were three more linchens coming up through the man hole in the center of the cellar. The third in our party, Tyra, made notice of it and called my name. I turned and caught my shotgun by the barrel just as quickly as she tossed it.

 

I aimed it down at the manhole and fired it into the head of the first linchen climbing up. I wasn't finished. I walked closer to the manhole, pumping the gun and firing off another load into the next linchen which popped it's head up. It's head melted away as its limbs flopped over the edge of the cover. Once more I pumped it, at this point standing right over the manhole. My two hunting partners joined me around the circle, all looking down. The next linchen appeared at the bottom of the sewer. The mountain of corpses in the manhole continued to rise for the next hour, at that same constant pace. Our black trench coats and helmets were covered with more blood than you will probably ever see in your entire life.

 

 

 

But perhaps I should back up and tell you a little bit about the situation before you plunge head first into the story I'm about to pass on. First off, you should probably know where we are. We're sitting in the year 2079, in the city of Das Verlorene. As for the name, I'll let you figure out what that one means. Its location is somewhere around what you would call Ontario. Such provinces and states are non-existant to us anymore---but I remember.

 

Which I guess brings us to me. My name, or at least my name in this time and place is Terrance Black. I say "in this time and place" because of all the different names I've had. Back in the first place I lived, they called me Distarius...I guess if I had to pick a real name it'd be Distarius, but I've seen so many things through such a long time it doesn't really hold much meaning for me anymore; that was an incredibly long time ago, yet by your terms I've only aged roughly three years since then. Distarius is dead to me, as are all the people he knew.

 

The method by which I travel from place to place; the reason I've lived as long as I have; the medium through which I am not limited to your borders of space and time---is something I don't want to tell you just yet, I aquired it back when dragons still roamed the earth, if you want something like a date. For now, at least, let's leave it at the fact that I'm Terrance Black, and that I live in Das Verlorene.

 

You're probably wondering what the Linchens are as well, aren't you? Well the closest thing I know you could compare them to are werewolves. I wouldn't call them werewolves because werewolves, by all rules and regulations, can only come out on full moons. These creatures come out nightly. I guess that's really all that seperates them from werewolves. We hunt them at night because in the day they would only show as humans, and that presents obvious complications. We, too, appear normal in the day, but can easily be identified by our trade mark trench coats and black clothing we wear at night as we ride around the city, wiping the linchens out with whatever silver-fueled weapons we can carry. Silver, as you may of guessed, causes their blood to seperate. In effect, it boils their insides until they pop. It's the most efficient way of killing them, if not the funnest.

 

Surprisingly, as frequent as the Linchens are at night, they remain relatively secret to the outside world. They first showed up in the year 2060 as far as we know, and only in this city. A handful of us hunters (roughly 50) are really all that stand between the Linchens and domination. Only we know of them, and that's how it stays. The civilians we save just before they would be killed become our soldiers.

 

That may be all you need to know right off the top. Anything else you need to know will be told to you as needed. As you saw, we just cleared out the Castle of Grünfeld. Now, we are on our way to our base of operation, the basement of an old, abandoned warehouse in the heart of downtown, where all of the oldest buildings stand. The ride home so far has been pretty quiet. Quiet, but proud...

 

...but what would you expect from three soldiers who slay monsters at 3 o'clock in the morning?

 

 

 

(Okay, somebody else introduce a character, and then we'll get to the story. I didn't want to with just me behind the wheel. As soon as there's another character, we'll move it along. Just do something similar to what I did here, but be sure to ask me on Yahoo before you go.)

[Jareena Faye]

OOC: One more thing, fellas! Contacing us first is just about the only rule in this RP. There's no "I get to say what you sense," or "you can't control this character." Haha, it still has to be FUN, right?

 

 

LUKAS NAUMAN

What can I say? I was pretty young... pretty confused. Maybe I was seven, maybe eleven. I can't remember. Actually, I'm still not sure how old I was. I was just a little boy, miles from home, sitting on a table in what appeared to be a dank basement with a lot of computer equipment that didn't quite look right in that environment. I had only a foggy idea of how I had gotten there, and had no idea who the old man was who wrapped my arm in thick cloth. I gazed at the blotches of blood soaking through with disoriented eyes.

 

The old man fixed me with his good eye all the while, a lone piercing blue that I think used to frighten me. Neither of us ever spoke. I studied the cloth he had tied over his head as an eye patch, the silver beginning to show in his dark hair, and the still-broad shoulders that hinted at how powerful he had once been. I was both afraid of him and in awe of him. I don't think that first impression ever left me, although now I think on him with affection.

 

Faint noises squealed in the distance, causing my shocked body to tense at the sound. They drew nearer and finally roared into the basement. Three motorcycles. Three figures in black. I gazed at them with the same look I had gazed at old Guiness. With detached apprehension and wonder.

 

"Who's this, Guiness?" asked one of the men, climbing from his cycle and removing his helmet. It was the first time I ever saw his face, appearing young, yet at the same time seeming so old and weary.

 

"Found him in the woods," the old man said, with a hint of Brooklyn accent in his voice. "It looks like his family was camping. Linchens attacked. I really don't know how this kid made it." He looked hard at me. "Three of them were lying on the floor, all dead as a doornail but without a trace of silver in sight. The kid just had a bloody arm, that's all."

 

"Does he talk?" asked the young woman.

 

I cradled my arm as Guiness finished binding it. I avoided eye contact for the rest of the evening, too confused myself to explain anything.

[Distarius_WhiteRobes]

Terrance Black:

 

It felt good to finally remove the helmet. After more than a few hours, I welcomed the refreshment of oxygen into my lungs and exhaled deeply. In my youth *or at least that's what I refer to it as* my hair would have grown sweaty and would have clumped together, falling into my eyes. Fortunatey as times change, so do hairstyles.

 

As I made my way through the garage, seperating myself from the other two in my hunting unit *It might make more sense if I tell you that Jacob and Tyra have a bit of a 'thing' going on*, I looked around for any familiar faces. They were there, and they were many. I traded them nods when ever possible, and smiles were given to those I could tolerate.

 

"Lieutenant," a British-accented man called out to me. I realized it was Hopkins no sooner than he continued talking. "I heard your team took out an entire pack tonight. Good job, no one else even thought to check the castle."

 

"That's why everyone else is still sitting around in the garage," I said as politely as possible, and continued on my way. I should probably set one thing straight, though. It's not that I don't like people, or even conversation. But after hearing so many people tell virtually the same stories and make the exact same small talk they did back in my youth it just---starts to get boring.

 

I had not walked more than three feet when I heard the two motorcycles take off. I turned, thinking maybe Tyra and Jacob had left again, but to my surprise *or unfazedness, really* it was another team. I turned back to Hopkins, who would undoubtedly know their mission as all he ever did was sit in the garage reading newspapers and checking up with other team members.

 

"Where are they going?" I asked.

 

"Oh, them?" Hopkins asked, looking back at the duo riding away from the garage. Their brake lights lit as they reached the edge of the road.

 

"Yes, them. It's going to be sun-up in less than a few hours."

 

"Well, nearest I can figure---they've found two or three Linchen in the Spaziergang district..."

 

OPERATIONS; A few moments later:

 

I paced my way into the mission center as prideful as I could. I was now missing my trenchcoat and gloves, which I had left in my quarters on the way here. My higher up, a man by the name of Christopher was huddled over one of the computerized maps. To the left side of the room sat the comm officers, sending messages to those teams already in the field.

 

"What's in the Spaz district?" I asked, instantly gaining Chris's attention. He stood up slowly and turned to me.

 

"Ahh, Terrance. Just the man I wanted to see. We're getting a new---" He started as he moved toward the table in the center of the room.

 

"What's in the Spaz district?" I asked again. "I've hear about...Linchens getting loose?"

 

Christopher hesitated, then sighed. "A couple of hours ago two of our scouts both witnessed Linchen activity in the area. Now it could very possibly just be a couple of strays, which is why we've only sent two hunters to check it out...but..."

 

"But what?" I asked.

 

"But there have been other trackings of them in that area over the last few weeks. Mostly droppings, a few carcasses."

 

I grimmaced and lowered my head.

 

"Please Terrance," Christopher offered, "Sit down." I did as he asked, and sat opposite of the chair he took for himself. I still couldn't make eye contact with him, not after that news.

"Look, it's no one's fault," he said. "It's just...when they move through the sewers like that it's almost impossible to contain them."

 

"We're losing this battle," I said to him, but really just talking to myself.

 

"No," Christopher said. "No, we're winning. We've seen bad before and we always get out of it. I heard your team took out an entire pack tonight, I wouldn't call that losing."

 

"Yeah," I said, confirming the success of the mission. "Maybe..."

 

"But in any case, at least you get to have some fun now. Your request for a new hunting team has been granted, on one stipulation."

 

"Really?" I asked, eagerly. "Well what is it?"

 

"Our research department has developed a new weapon for combating the Linchen, it's supposed to be some sort of concentrated UV laser or something. It's supposed to fry the suckers in less than a second or two, and it's extremely accurate."

 

"Yeah, that doesn't sound so bad...what's the catch?"

 

"Well, they don't want to throw the weapon at us right away. They want one of their own, a researcher; developer, to come in and assist you. You're going to hunt with her for a little while, and test the weapon in the field. You wanted a change of assignment, and now you've got it."

 

"Oh," I said, at this point just ready to try out the equipment. The fact that I could get away from Tyra and Jacob for a little while was just all the better. "Well who is it?"

[Distarius_WhiteRobes]

The weapon---it's handheld for the most part, almost the size of a pistol, maybe a little bit bigger. Jet black except for the tip which is encased in a cylindrical mirror. Collecting light from the mirror and pushing it back into the barrel where it is concentrated, the weapon can project a wide focused ray of pure UV radiation or a condensed beam, whichever the situation may call for. Not only will the focused beam cause severe allergic reactions from the linchens, killing them dead in a matter of seconds, but in the daylight the wide focused ray will cause Linchens in human form to react in a less agressive tone. It is likey they'll shriek or recoil from it. Normal humans will not be harmed, or even irritated. The basic benefit is that we can hunt them in the day, when they can't mutate and become twice as dangerous. Don't under estimate this weapon, it is likely to become the biggest advantage we gain this year.

 

Suck it up, "Sax". We may spend every night slaughtering them---but they still spend every night devouring our kind. Don't let it be you, and don't let it be anyone you care about.

 

(End)

 

Voice transmission:

Subject: Re: I Heard about a new weapon we're getting?

To: Pvt. Robert "Saxophone" Hughes

From: Lt. John Graves

Dated: February 12th, 2079

[Distarius_WhiteRobes]

OoC: J'F, if you don't want to play anymore, just let me know. If you do---get your head in the game! We've got some characters to move around here!

 

Terrance Black:

 

"Raanan Anderson---Raanan Anderson," I thought to myself as I moved through the tight corridors that made up the living quarters in the base. "I can remember that." I collided with three individual people during my trip to my room; I apologized to them all despite how useless it really is. It's impossible to move in here without bumping into somebody...that's just the way the place was built, I suppose.

 

I guess we throw the term "living quarters" around a little too freely. Take into account that this is still an abandoned warehouse. No one really lives here. However, when it gets too late or one gets too tired to ride back to their own home, they always have a place to rest between hunting shifts here in the warehouse. Most of the time I just use mine as a locker; storing the stuff I don't need.

 

When I got to 13-A *my room* I spoke aloud the pass code; something I'm not going to tell you. I don't know what you'd do with it. The door opened and I stepped in, almost immediately walking into the bed which was against the farthest wall of the room...maybe 8 feet back. My jacket was laid out nicely, just as I had left it. My gloves were on the counter on the right hand side of the room, next to the food replicator. My weapons...they were under my pillow where I always keep them. I picked my items up off the bed and placed them on the floor. I didn't need them getting in the way of what I had planned

 

Undressing into my bare essentials, I climbed in the covers and rested my head on the pillow. It would be another five hours before Anderson showed up---so why not use those hours to their full potential? I gave the computer the command to shut off the lights, and it did what it was told. As they dimmed, my eyes closed in an almost in unison with them. I sighed heavily, and drifted off---but not before my mind started to wander. I'll tell you...love is something stupid. It pokes its nasty head into your thoughts where it doesn't belong. It makes you remember those you'd rather forget---it gives you pain; the kind you can't get rid of. In my case; it makes me think of her. Oh, how happy I was with her---if only---*sleep*

 

She went over the edge. I don't know how it happened. The waves were rough...the boat was in bad shape anyway...someone was bound to mess up. She was tossed right out. I climbed to the edge to help her back up; knowing exactly what waited for her in the water. She disappeared under the water for a few seconds, but came back up kicking strong---several peices of armor were missing. I think she got rid of them to swim better.

 

I pleaded for her to swim back to the edge of the boat. I begged her even. I needed her to survive---so that I could live. Reaching forward, I too almost lost my hold on the small vessel. I felt myself breaking down inside as she struggled several feet from the boat, kicking through the white caps, trying to reach safety once more. I called her name again---it was silent against the force of the water, the thunder in the sky, and the rain pelting all around. Lighting struck about a mile away, and I jumped backward when the thunder sounded.

 

She made it back. I bent down and grabbed her hand, and for a brief moment felt that everything was going to be okay. I started to pull her up. I started to bring her back---and I was so glad I was holding her; glad that she was in my arms. She was taken from me.

 

The giant claw I had seen so many times before burst out of the water in an explosion of white and gripped the object of my affection's back, tearing into the skin where armor had been a few minutes prior. She screamed, and I yelled with her. I kept holding on...the monster proved too strong. She was pulled down, down into the water. I kept my hold on her hand for as long as I could. The bubbles from her last breath...the blood from her wounds; these things rose to the surface in a mixture which sent my soul into my own personal Hell. The beast's grip was too strong...too powerful!

 

The beast lost its grip, I thought. She became much easier and lighter to pull. I pulled her up out of the water by the hand I had held onto during the struggle---but only her hand. I fell backward at the sudden ease of it, and shrieked at the site of it. Before I had hit the bottom of the boat in my tumble, I let go of the limb and watched it fly over head, blood dripping on my robes and face. It splashed into the other side of the water.

 

My eyes shot open in a start where I rested in the bed, but I didn't make a noise or a movement. Instead I thought only of what had happened after that; what had happened to me after she died. I remembered that I had been lying in the boat... I didn't move after that. I had fallen to the floor of the boat; and that is where I remained. I broke down---tears beginning to roll down my face. Too hurt to move, I sifted in that water for three days before I was picked up by a bigger ship. It was another three months before I was mobile.

 

My sadness turned to hate. My fear into aggression. I hunted that female monster of a dragon down; and when I caught up to her I was fueled by those things so strongly that I killed it almost as quickly as it killed---as it had killed Jareena.

 

I was alone...and that's how it stayed for hundreds of years.

Edited June 22, 2003 by Distarius_WhiteRobes

[Jareena Faye]

RAANAN ANDERSON

I moved my chair back into a reclining position. I had been resting and working on and off during my flight. The Force only had a few aircrafts, and for all I knew this could be not only my first, but also my last time riding in one. It was a five-hour flight from my New Cuban testing facility to this place... Das... Das Verlone? Still reclining, I checked my wrist-comm/comp. Verlorene. I pondered what language that could be. Not my area of expertise.

 

"Miss Anderson." I opened my eyes when I heard the voice of the co-pilot. After noticing the familiar look in his eyes, I wondered how many women there really were on the Force. Not many, was my guess. "We'll be landing soon."

 

"The five hours are up already?" I asked, disguising my sarcasm.

 

"Yes, you might want to un-recline and fasten your seatbelt."

 

He looked as if he might do it himself, and when I hesitated for only a moment, I found my estimation was correct. I did my own seatbelt, though. I do have some dignity. Besides, I'd probably never see this co-pilot again.

 

The man returned to the cabin, and I adjusted my short, black hair. Soon I felt the aircraft slow and slant forward. It was an uncomfortable moment, much like take-off. The center of gravity in my chest was being pulled. It wasn't long, however, before we had touched down on the runway; only a few seconds. In two or three more, we had come to a stop, and the doors were unsealing with barely a hiss.

 

"Can I help you with your bags?" the co-pilot asked. He and the pilot were unboarding, as well.

 

I already had my personal bag suspended one shoulder, and I preferred to carry the weapon case myself. "Thank you, but I'm fine," I replied, feeling almost repelled by his over-dotage. Didn't he realize that he should just stick to female pilots he might actually see again?

 

But I suppose I shouldn't judge. I have the same problem with tech designers.

 

The pilot, when all three of us were descending from the craft, pointed. "You want that warehouse over there. Take the elevator to the underground level. An old hero named Guiness should be at his computer immediately ahead, and he'll tell you where to go from there."

 

"Thank you." I shook his hand. "It was a pleasure flying with you."

 

He nodded. "Likewise."

 

I felt the co-pilot looking at me, but I just turned and followed the pilot's directions. Neither of us had the time for flirting.

 

There were two big steel buildings on the compound, one serving as a hangar and one for everything else. I entered the latter, and found the elevator standing apart from the wall, quite close. My clearance card was valid, and the doors were kind enough to open for me. I was the only passenger.

 

"Elevator. Underground."

 

There was an acknowledging warble. I barely felt the floor moving beneath me. Soon it had stopped again, and the doors opened to a clammy basement room. "Underground," an artificial voice purred, and I stepped out of the car.

 

There was certainly a computer before me, a dais for the operator, and gloves for controlling the holographic keyboard. "Guiness," however, was nowhere in sight. I listened for a sound, but the only noise was that of my briefcase as I set it down on the cement floor.

 

I felt a presence nearby and flinched. A pale little boy sat on a medical table against the wall. His arm was in a bandage, and he stared at me with wide, blank eyes.

 

Kids. I hate kids. "Is Guiness here?" I asked with a smile. The boy shook his head. Biting back annoyance, Ii asked, "Where is he?"

 

The boy pointed. A long tunnel, fluorescent lights dotting the way, lay before me. I hesitated. After some thought, I picked up the weapon case again and marched into the hollow corridor. Noises could be heard in the distance, wooden or metallic, but I couldn't recall ever hearing the like before.

 

Suddenly, I was at the end of the tunnel. A vast cavern lay beyond it, obviously carved out by an underground river at some point. I was no longer at Operations. This had been here long before headquarters, and was now perhaps some extension if ever extra space was needed. Light was scarce and scattered. Some shot-up targets were lined up to my left, old mannequins that had found new uses. A serious of beams and poles stretched before me like an obstacle course. Some one was swinging on it ten feet above the ground, flipping, landing on the floor with a hesitant grunt. The man finished the course and moved away from it. I could make him out now. He was in his fifties. Hair that was once black was becoming ever more gray. He wore an eye patch, the side facing me. I watched the man wipe sweat from his face with a towel.

 

When he spoke, it startled me. "I can't see you, but I know you're there." He tossed the towel away and strode toward me. Suddenly I knew what the pilot had meant by old hero. "What do you want?"

 

"I'm Dr. Raanan Anderson, weapons designer," I said, my hand extended. "Are you Guiness?"

 

"Yeah," he said, his handshake firm but neutral.

 

"I was told to report to you. Apparently you know where I'm testing the new weapon, and with whom."

 

A smirk appeared on the good side of Guinness's face. "You're sure you want to go out there?"

 

"I'm not entirely helpless," I said irritably. I raised the case briefly. "Especially not with this."

 

"It's your funeral. This way." The man stepped around me, and I followed him back into Operations. While I stopped near the quiet boy, Guiness went on to don his gloves and work the holographic computer. "Ah. I see you're with Terrance Black. Actually, he should be reporting here soon."

 

"Terrance Black? The name sounds familiar."

 

"One of the best on the Force," Guiness smirked. "Not to mention he's a co-founder."

 

"Talking about yourself again, Guiness?" asked a male voice. I saw the man himself step out of the elevator and approach us. He looked my age, with short brown hair. Already dressed in full gear, the black material conveying something of his soul. His presence made me uncomfortable, as if he were a container for bitter, acidic chemicals.

 

The old man gestured. "Raanan Anderson, meet Terrance Black."