The Great Raiden RP Contest: Drama Thread
 

Post your fight scenes here. Remember, if you post here, then you must also enter a scene into the Fighting thread. You can only edit your post once. Have fun!

The blood dripped from his hands. The knife clattered to the cobblestone. The rain fell lightly at first. A drop on his knuckles then his cheek. It picked up as loud thunder crashed. He coughed a little. The ally reaked of filth and garbage. The rusted stair fire escape ladder snapped up with a thud, as it slipped from his wet fingertips. Thunder cracked again.

The images played in his mind. His wife writhing in bed with him, their screams, they burned his eyes and ears. His hot tears on his cheek, tears now washed away by the rain. He started to feel cold and numb siren songs in the distance, the music of the urban jungle.

Strength left his legs weak and he fell on them. The hard rain leaching the blood on his clothes into a crimson puddle at his feet. He coughed again a trickle of deep crimson running down his lips, as his arterial spray melted down the wall. He fell forward into the puddle of his own blood. His last breath leaving his lips.

As night descended, the city of Narwell braced itself. The palace wizards had predicted a storm, possibly a tornado. The general opinion of the commoners was that the gods were angry, ever since that dwarf with his symbols of Nerull came. As the peasants, nobles and even the queen herself shut their doors against the oncoming fury, a lone figure moves through the shadows. Through wouldn’t really be an accurate description, it is more like behind the shadows, causing only the faintest ripple where he is. As the moons reach their zeniths, he heads towards the first house on his left. He is a short light elf with shocking white hair; the type of white hair that gives the impression that he has lived longer and seen more in his short life of 90 years than is healthy. As he reaches the house his gloved hand reaches out and tries the knob, “Locked” he mutters under his breath, his violet eyes narrowing, “against the storm.” He pulls a thin instrument out of a hidden pocket in his shirt and sticks it between the door and house. He yanks upward and hears the click of the lock releasing. He pushes inward, faintly annoyed by the squeak of hinges and thinks as he always does, why he is here.

It was fifteen years ago in the city of Anerial. He had been quite skilled and many people had desired him to be their apprentice. Spells, sword, even nature were offered to him; but he preferred the old mage, with his quick wit and amazing illusions, above them all. Sadly, the mage also had an amazingly large diamond and a beautiful scimitar. Voldread had to have them, so one night he crept into the mage’s home and pocketed the gem. Just as he had grabbed the sword, an ear-piercing scream had stunned him. The mage had awoke and had transformed from a kindly old man into the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. He ran and was sure that if the wizard had wanted to, he could have easily summoned him back.

Voldread looks around the dark room taking in his surroundings. He was right, this was Lord what’s-his-names summer home. The rich leather armchairs and fancy china was the most obvious giveaway. Voldread scans the room, and his eyes come to rest on a large painting of the cottage owner. “Hmmm, what’s behind door number one” he mutters as he walks forward. He reaches forward and shoves against the painting, “Well this is your own fault you realize your lordship,” he says with sigh as his dagger cuts an X in the painting. “Ha,” he says, as he reaches forward and begins turning the safe’s combination. As seconds pass, his elven ears suddenly hear the faint click of the locks release mechanism. He opens the safe and is momentarily breathless. He is expecting maybe twenty or thirty gold coins but not this. He stares in awe at the piles of gold and even platinum coins. He leisurely scoops it all into his battered leather bag. “You are too kind your lordship,” he says with a grin as he walks out the door into the rain.

It was late afternoon; the sun slowly moving toward the western horizon shadows lengthening as it drifted lazily. Goemon sat with family preparing for his evening meal. Just then a well dressed visitor appeared in his genkan announcing his entrance respectfully. Goemon stood and went to meet his guest motioning for his family to remain. As he exited the room he closed the fusuma-shoji quietly behind him. He walked to his visitor greeting him with a polite rei. The pair exchanged the customary words of greeting and with another rei the visitor presented a small piece of paper with both hands. Goemon took the paper carefully and read it quietly then handed it back to his guest. Then with the customary goodby and a quick rei the visitor departed.

Goemon turned back into his house heading for the family room once more. Upon reaching the fusuma-shoji he sat seiza and open the door with his left hand first, switching to his right hand after opening the door slightly. Then he entered the room on his knees and took his place at the low table. He ate his dinner in silence all the while contemplating the message he had be given. At the conclusion of the meal he retrieved his katana from the rack against the inside wall of the genkan. Turning to his family he announced his departure, saying his goodbys to each person in turn, put on his geta and walked into the night. No one said so but they all new this night was Goemon’s last.

After he left his wife broke into tears. Ashamed of her weakness she walked slowly to her room and closed the door behind her. Her daughter went about cleaning the table and her two sons went to retrieve some wood. The youngest brother tried to follow his father, but was quickly halted by his older brother. He knew that to interfere now would simply bring more dishonor to their family. In the distance they heard the sharp clash of blades. A yell of rage sounded and the unmistakable sound of a blade breaking echoed across the valley. The sounds faded and the boys knew their father would never return.

It had been a while since Kane had gotten it, and, he had to say, having it hadn’t been too bad. He’d gotten some money (usually big news with him), gone to bed with some people who weren’t prostitutes, and generally had a good time.

Except, that is, when people came and tried to take it away.

It was almost comical at first, how they never actually said the damned thing’s name. “Do you have it?” “I [or we, it depended] know you have it” “Give it to me [us] and I’ll [we’ll] let you live,” and so on and so on. Kane would invariably respond “Have it? What is it? It got a name?” And then there’d be a fight. And there’d be pain, suffering, gritting of teeth, and other regrettable things. Kane usually came out wounded from these fights, but the other guy(s) usually came out dead, so it was ok. But you can only get into so many fights with holy priests, powerful mages, great warriors, and ruthless bounty hunters before they begin to get old. And then there was the running. Don’t even get him started on having to run away constantly.

However, he had decided long ago that if they wanted it, they’d have to pry it from his dead hands. Or give him a tidy sum for it, either way was acceptable. But more and more, it looked like he’d have to give it up. This fighting and running and fighting and getting shot and being in bed with a gunshot wound in the lower stomach that gets infected three times was really beginning to wear on him. Sooner or later he’d have to give it up. But not yet. There was at least three month’s worth of fighting and running left in him.

The chance of money wasn’t the real reason why he had kept it. He kept it because it had changed his life. He had picked it up somewhere (he had forgotten where), and things began to work. Things began to lead to another. Things got simple. He got lucky. He got options when he needed them, and lost them when they were useless. He didn’t have hard decisions; or they were already predetermined. Answers became obvious, choices became clear. In short, life got easier. Even in the fights that plagued him, things were easier. But the downs were beginning to outweigh the ups.

He sighed, and looked around. Kane liked it here. He was in a tavern, and had been for some time. He was in Bastion, a neutral city built around (and over) a great lake and the rivers that fed it. People of all sorts lived here. Mages, priests, warriors, technocrats, artificers, gunmakers, you name it. It was nice here. His well worn brown clothing blended in here, and the revolver on his hip and the rifle on his back didn’t stand out too much. It was nice.

He sighed again. He’d have to move soon anyway; the survivors from his last confrontation, a large group of bounty hunters, had regrouped and started looking again. He hadn’t had time to cover his tracks, and they knew Kane had taken the train from Henower to Bastion. Kane knew they knew this, because he had seen them not-so-discreetly searching the streets. But what was troubling him was the fact that they had suddenly stopped. Well paid bounty hunters don’t just stop on a job. And he would know; he had been one for a few days. So that left two options: they left or they were dead. They wouldn’t have left, because they knew he was here. So that meant someone had killed them. The question was, who would kill a group of bounty hunters looking for him (and it)? Someone else who wanted it, that’s who.

And that was the problem. Kane had no idea who could take down a group of bounty hunters (who had rifles, guns, and other noisy weapons), and have no one hear of it. And, truth be told, he didn’t care to find out. He’d have to leave soon. Tomorrow. Morning. No, early afternoon. People on the run always leave as soon as they can, that’s how you can spot them. Early afternoon was the perfect time. Too many people on the streets to be tailed, plenty of people to talk to, and plenty of reasons to look behind you. Yes, he’d leave tomorrow in the early afternoon.

At that moment, five men walked into the tavern. They had such an air about them that got everyone’s attention. They were just a little shorter than Kane. That is to say, medium tall. They all had swords, but no guns. But what bothered everyone was the magic-sparked fire in their eyes. They were speders. Men who had studied under mages solely to learn how to kill people, and then trained with masters-at-arms to learn other ways to kill people. Most didn’t use guns, and that was a good thing. But that didn’t change the fact that these men were the best assassins money could buy, and that didn’t bode well for Kane.

They clearly knew who (or what) they were looking for, as the walked right up to Kane’s table. Kane cocked his pistol. The leader spoke in the voice of one who could kill a pregnant woman while telling a joke: “We have been sent to retrieve something from you.” Kane’s heart suddenly began to beat harder with anticipation as the leader continued: “Give it to us. Now.”

God damnit, they didn’t know what it was called either.

(Edited for my edit)
.

She drifted slowly down the corridor, lost in her private misery. She mourned a loss that could not be healed, a child that could not be saved. Her husband had died many years before, so there would be no new children to replace the one that was lost, if indeed any could replace a lost child. Her uncle had locked her in the mansion out of spite, and so she wandered, forever lost in the familiar hallways. She cried quietly, not bothering to wipe away the tears; she could not remember a time when she had not been crying. How long had she been here? She had been alone for so long that her friends names were long forgotten, and she could no longer summon their faces. Even her own name was lost to her. She dwelt in an eternal night, and she never noticed the people who passed through her, to whom she was little more than a passing chill in the night.

Light. Sore shoulder. Rough surface beneath back. Cold. Those were the first things Shade’s mind processed, or even thought of as he woke up. Streaming through the open window of his apartment was the sun. He strongly tried to shut it out, groaning with the effort. Shortly after his reintroduction to reality, his brain started functioning and taking in details.

First two things he noticed were that he was naked (a direct representation of how tired he’d been,) and that he was on the floor. He momentarily let his brain think about why this had come about, and finally settled it to exhaustion from sneaking into, and through, the largest damn mansion he’d ever seen, and having to escape. Then he noticed he was hungry. Grudgingly, he got onto his feet, and headed to his closet.

Amazingly enough, especially for him, he didn’t grab a suit. Instead, he grabbed a turtle-neck and jeans, along with the other neccesities. After checking his wallet to make sure that he had enough money, he headed out of his apartment.

The cool fall air seemed to awaken him somewhat. Walking into a little café and seeing Silence, Leon, and Ken all seated around a table peering over some papers finished the job. Shade walked over to the table, saying his hello’s and everything, grabbing the fourth chair.

Leon cocked an eyebrow and simply stated, “It’s almost noon.”

In a flawless russian accent Silence added, “You should be ashamed of your late dreaming, and inability to attend to pressing matters.”

Shade levelled a finger threateningly at Silence and said, “Don’t start with me.”

Ken snickered, and looked back at the various papers. “So, did we learn anything from McKaley? Like, did any of your see anything at all around his shop?”

Leon and Silence shook their heads at the same time. Shade levelled an eyebrow, but Leon responded before the question was even said. “As you know, we’re probably dealing with some sort of genetic engineering conspiracy. And as you also know, the people they create are damn hard to take down. Now, here are our major problems. We know without a doubt that Silence here lost his memory while trying to execute the head scientist. We also know that the scary dominatrix chick with the whip somehow understands all of this. However, we can’t exactly find her and question her because she’s currently in a coma. Be damn glad it was Ken that took her down, and not one of us. Otherwise we’d have no possible witness. Anyways, we know that almost every single hit so far has been somehow related in some fashion to where-ever the damn lab is. Unfortunately, we killed most of the people, assuming our mutual employer would know where to go next. He doesn’t. And you killed our last possible lead last night.”

Shade ordered a cup of coffee and turned back towards the motly assembly. “In my defence, he had a shotgun.”

Leon waved a hand dismissively. “We aren’t blaming you. Anyways, we’ve gotten police reports where available, and we now need to find the one common detail so we can nail this place.”

Ken piped into the conversation, saying, “Now, this is far from perfect. And the rest of you aren’t the brightest in the shed, but we should be able to pull it off.”

Shade looked over the various papers they had, and simply said, “Asia.”

Silence said in a thick scottish accent, “Aye. I thought so. All of the major information equipment is from Asia.”

Ken raised an eyebrow at them. “So? Half of everything comes from Asia. There’s got to be a million Asian computers in this city alone.”

Leon leaned closer to the papers, and abscently traced details. “All of these seem to be from Hong Kong to be specific. But…all of them can’t be part of some network. There’s no way that this many computers can be holding the secret that medical scientists have been looking for for a dozen years.”

Shade’s eyebrow twitched. “It fits. Mort dying, then coming back and not going for us. The flaming building of some completely unrelated supplier…he’s taunting us. All of this. Everything this scientist has done to date has seemingly been vital, but actually been a dead end. This Asia thing? I’d be willing to bet my entire income from the past two years that he’s mocking us by giving us this kind of lead. Too easy.”

Ken waved a hand dismissively. “You’re paranoid. Paranoid beyond all rationality. Obviously we’re smarter than this guy in every single way.”

Silence turned to Ken and said, (In a chinese accent!) “Young silly hunter. Do not underestimate your foe, and be prepared for all manners of deceit.”

Shade decided to let them debate it out, and instead turned to the newspaper. For no apparent reason, he skimmed the personals. Then he slowly said, “Guys. He’s taunting us.” He spun the paper around and pointed to one add for the others to see. Simply, it read ‘7 hitmen wanted, last job in Britain.’

Leon took a drink of his coffee, and merely asked, “Isn’t that a bit obvious?”

Shade shook his head. “I get his play now. We all know he’s been mocking us. And every time that we’ve hit a dead end, he’s just learned more about what we do. This is his way of saying, ‘I know everything you do. Here I am, I dare you to come get me.’”

Ken actually seemed serious for a moment as he asked, “Wait. We know we’re gonna’ get him, so what’s he doing to make this a tastier chance?”

The other three ignored him as they were frantically sifting through the pictures. Finally, Shade held up one picture. “Shipped equipment. All from britain. Why didn’t we see this earlier?”

Silence looked up and said in a texan accent, “Simple partner. We was thinking all about the big things. We never thought that the good doctor would be sending equipment directly to them.”

Leon smirked. “We now know where to place the hit. And we also know he’s probably expecting us to sneak in and deal with him silently. Five bucks says he’s made one of the super-soliders to guard his ass.”

Shade agreed, then stated, “So, we do this the opposite way. We set off as many alarms as possible, don’t even try to disguise our prescence. Then momentarily stop to disguise, and run into his office like we’re trying to secure it. And what, Ken!?”

Ken had started frantically poking Shade’s shoulder. “Remember what I asked earlier?”

“Vaguely.”

Ken pointed out onto the street, towards a group of four people who’d gotten out of a white van, and who were pulling out a grenade launcher and a gas canister launcher. “I think that’s the tidbit.”

They fired. Everyone slammed down, Shade momentarily taking a moment to grab Ken.

Silence smirked within the chaos, and stretched his cloth-covered fingers. “Play time,” was all his malicious voice let out.

Shade cocked a pistol he'd gotten from Leon. "And they chose my favorite game..."

Rain beat down on Quasta's bedroom window loudly as his parents were shouting in the next room. He could have legally moved out of the house last week, even lead a successful life. But he couldn't leave his mother alone with his father. No way in hell.
He couldn't really make out what they were arguing about. It was usually money, his father's latest affair, or himself. All he knew is that there was a crash, and the argument suddenly became nothing but his father shouting. Don't look out the door. Whatever you do, do not look out the door. Later, Quasta will have wished he had listened to himself.
Peeking out the door, he immediatly knew something terrible had happened from the spreading puddle of blood on the kitchen floor. Ducking back into his room he immediatly grabbed the essentials of the moment: a gun, a knife, his helmet, and his wallet. The rest he could come back for with the police. He put on his helmet, stuffed the wallet in his back pocket, and began to open his jammed window with the knife.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Spinning in fear, Quasta pointed the gun panickedly at his father.
"I'm getting the police."
"I suggest the front door. Much more convenient. One of the motorcycles is already out, but it's low on fuel. By the time you get any other vehicle ready, I'll have my gun. And we both know I won't wait to fire."
"I'll kill you now."
"And be arrested for double homicide."
Quasta burst past his father and out the front door. Rain pouring on him, he lept onto his motorcycle and drove off. He wouldn't make it to town on this much fuel. He would, sooner or later, have to fight.
What scared him was, even if he could make it to town, he would fight anyway, just to kill him.

California Girls
 

Odors both comforting and alien assailed her nostrils. Scent, she mused, was undoubtedly the jokester of the family of senses. However if the affect of a rude noise emanating from an uncouth lout in the table some feet away from her was comical, the smell was downright sadistic. "So now my senses are against me," she spoke softly to herself, amused by the irony in her choice of words.

The thin wisp of smoke which rose from a long cigarette now half composed of ash found its way to her nose as well. She was simultaneously annoyed by the burning sensation and relieved that it erased the recent memory of beer fueled flatulence. An exasperated sigh issued from her cherry red lips, which were pursed in such a way as to direct the current of breath towards her long bangs. This action resulted in a rather spectacular flourish of deep crimson hair. Her slender fingers grasped the butt of the cigarette, then she turned her head towards the entrance.

Her mounting impatience was at once dispelled as the source of it entered her field of view. He stood tall on his toes, peering over the heads of the large group of patrons congregated at the door, his furtive glances doing little more than making him appear obviously out of place. Out of instinct she waved her hand above her head, and was rewarded with a shower of grey ash. Flustered by the mistake and upset at denting her appearance, she stopped waving and threw the cigarette on the ground, crushing it under her stilleto heel.

His eyes finally made purchase on the ravishing dollop of bright red amidst the mundane hews of brown and tan. He weaved his way throught the mass of bar dwellers and sat beside her. He smiled widely revealing rows of perfect white teeth. She stared adamantly at him, affecting a highly unamused nature. " I'm sorry for the delay, but I ran into a few complications. You see..." before he could finish his apology he was silenced by a curt " shut up! I don't have time for this, did you get the files or what?!"

"right, sorry, of course." he seemed nervous, embarassed and spoke quickly in short bursts, " The information is all on this disk." he handed her a compact disk in a white paper sleeve. She grabbed it, or more precisely snatched it from the mans hands with a noticeable change in expression. She smiled warmly at him, and started to laugh quietly. The delivery man was confused by her sudden change, but considered it unimportant. What was important was his pay. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like the check please" it was more a plea than the demand one would expect at such a junction.

" Oh sure hon, I'll let you buy me dinner. You've earned the right after this." she said and then kissed the paper case, leaving two red lip marks on it. "I'm afraid I won't be here to enjoy it however" and with that she stood up and started walking towards the door.

The parking lot was filled with cars, many expensive ones and a few jalopies as out of place as the timid man who stumbled out the door behind the beautiful red haired woman. " Now wait a second, we had a deal! I got you those files, without looking at them, without anyone knowing, and you payed me my twenty-thousand dollars! I didn't put my career in jeopardy for nothing!" His shouting had the annoying whiny quality of an eight year old who doesn't want to go to bed. The woman nonchalantly clicked the alarm deactivation button on her keyring, a slight beep was heard from a black Jaguar parked in a handicap zone near the entrance. As she walked towards the driver side, she stopped abruptly and turned to face the sniveling man behind her. his face was drawn with impotent rage and anxiety.

"well, I'm afraid I lied about the money, you see I don't actually have twenty thousand dollars, in fact I barely have enough money for gas." She lit another cigarette and took a deep puff. She exhaled and a cloud of carcinogens descended upon the man, who by now was helplessly lost in a maze of self loathing and paranoia. She smiled at the man and made a motion with her head for him to come closer. The man could see no reason not to, and so complied. " Maybe I can give you something else to make it worth your time," she purred in a sultry voice equal parts sex and danger. "Hop in if you like, I guarantee you'll remember this night for the rest of your life" with that she opened the driver side door and and unlocked the passenger side.

The man was now beyond all reason, and could think of nothing better to do than to go along with this seductive temptress. He sat rigidly in the seat, looking forward as the car drove off into the night streets.

"You know, your not very original" she said matter of factly, taking another puff of her cigarette. " This town is slim pickings anyways, I don't suppose I'll find anyone better" she adressed this comment more to herself than the bewildered man beside her. " Do you eat many vegetable mr Henry?" she stared at him with a look of longing, he was confused by the mixture of such an inane question and an alluring look.

"Why do you ask?" he replied tensely, something seemed basicly wrong with her now, something to be afraid of. His alarm was growing, and yet he could not place its source. Her long neck was very pale, as if she had never been in sunlight, her whole body was of an oddly whote pallor, especially considering it was the middle of summer in California. Why had he never noticed these things before? His fear gave way to terror, he nearly screamed "Stop this car now! let me out you bitch! Let me out now or I swear I'll..."

With a quick jab of her frail arm, she had seized the man by his throat, and trapped him against the glass of the car door. He mumbled some incoherent babble while he struggled for breath, " I only ask about the vegetable because I'm on this new diet, it low carb you see" having explained herself she pulled the man Mr. henry towards her as a child does a rag doll, and tore into his neck with vicious fangs. His blood gushed uncontrollably from the horrid wound, enveloping the interior with a silvery layer of liquid. She licked fervently at the fissure until she was sated, at which point she flung the body out the driver side door into a ravine which ran parallel to the freeway. She dabbed her cheeks daintily with a red handkerchief.

She removed the cd from its paper case, and inserted it into her cd player. The Beach Boys "California Girls" blared from her speakers. " That wasn't as fun as I had hope for" she said to herself. "Next time I'll use one of those new in-ter-net dating things, Its about time I got modern"

The room smelled of death. The only thing occupying this enclosed space was a chair and a bed. The Man in red robes entered the room, noticing that the old man was even closer than before to dying.

"My son, come closer" The old man say in naught but a whisper.

The mage moved the chair closer to the bed,and sat down, taking his fathers hands in his own. "How are you feeling, father?" he said, nowing that the question was for nothing, he knew that his father was in pain. The sheets of the bed were already soaked in sweat, blood , and excreatment.

The old man chuckled, his chuckle turning into a hacking coff. "Why ask questions to which you already know the answer. Im dying, my son, its only a little while untill Baccus takes me into his arms. But feel no sorrow, because ill be in a better place." His face suddenly turned white. "I want you to promise me something. Promise me that you will not go after the one who did this to me, this Conor. Vengence will only make you as evil as him. Promise me!" He cried. The mage sighed.

"I cannot make that promise , my father, you know that, how can I let that Bastard live after what he did to you and mother? I WILL have my vengence, I will Kill him, and hold up his decapatated head for the gods!" Fire burned in the mages eyes as he held up his hand as if he already held the head in his own hands. He looked back down at his father, but it was too late, he was already dead, his eyes staring up at his son in horror. "Rest well, my father" The mage said, closing his fathers eyes and pulling the covers over his face.

He stood suddenly, his eyes set in their hatred. Oh yes, he would kill conor this night. That was the truth. He would kill Conor, or die trying. Because that was the only thing that was left for his life, or so he thought.....