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Black Gold Conviction « Thread Started on Oct 17, 2009, 2:19am »
Jails weren't a place Barbossa liked to frequent. Somehow all these years out on the sea he was successful at avoiding them. He wish he could have kept it that way, but this was not an opportunity he could pass up. This long abandoned jail contained something he wanted.
Alptraum was a place that no one found when it was active. Those deported there were never heard from again. Vanished. Some pirates considered it a much worse fate than getting hanged, and that was saying a whole lot.
The place no longer housed the rotten of the rotten. But that did not stop it from having its place in the long list of tales and lore passed down by the pirates. Not just pirates, but any man that heard of the horrific events that undoubtedly occurred between the walls of Alptraum.
The story went like this. Captain Charles Vane, one of the most ruthless pirates who had manned one of the most ruthless crews the world had ever seen, saw that his luck ran out. He was caught by the british navy and deported to Alptraum, crew and all. Legend has it that the very clever pirate smuggled one piece of his loot into the jail. He knew he was at the end of his rope and once he entered Alptraum, there was no coming out alive. So right before he was deported, a gypsy did a spell on the piece of gold as his last wish. The gold would transform into the holder's deepest desire once the spell was unlocked. But he could only used if the holder truly regretted the wrong he's done.
Of course Charles was never a man of regrets. He did not take the gypsies' advice seriously. The gold did nothing for him and he died a terrible, torturous death. The legend says that piece of enchanted gold was still in that building but its power could only be unlocked before the October 31st, 70 years after the captain's death.
Barbossa believed the legend was true. He tended to have a smart intuition about these things and he felt this was a treasure worth going after, even if it didn't amount to anything. The problem was that the legend was pretty well known. Surely he wouldn't be the only one after it. In addition, people liked to gossip about Alptraum being haunted, Captain Vane still roaming its halls. It might be true, Barbossa didn't doubt that. But he couldn't say that he was afraid of ghosts, as he had experience being one himself. Other people were, however, and felt people should try to investigate it.
Some people say that because Vane still haunts the halls, the piece of gold is connected to him. That his spirit still works on it and that it calls some of the most vicious monsters, demons, tricksters and murderers to the jail...using them to get rid of intruders. To make their worst nightmares instead of dreams come true.
Barbossa could care less if some people were sent to be ghost chasers. He was after one thing only, that piece of gold. As Barbossa entered the rusted doors of Alptraum...he wondered what awaited him inside.
(ok guys, we have a haunted jail! Full of torture rooms and everything. Crazy evil murderers, ghosts, and ghouls *baddies* of this board...the gold calls to you! THis would probably include freddy, Todd, Mort, Betel, Shock, etc. Your mission: terrorize all the gold-searchers. The place will be haunting them so your job is to try to literally 'finish them off'...if it is in your nature to do that of course. It can be your choice if you want to be driven by your own nightmares, though obviously for one particular member, that need not apply
To all the other people joining the thread...'ghosts' from your worst nightmares will be haunting you...that is determined by your own creative merit. All the baddies will be trying to catch you while you're weak and trying to kill you. Goal? MAKE IT STOP! LOL Or get to the gold of course.
Hehe, we'll see if this works!
NOTE: THe gold isn't just any old gold! The enchantment can make your deepest desires come true! )
Ichabod Crane Administrator Amatuer Deducter member is offline
Murder needs no ghost come from the grave[on:Put to the test][of:Saw a spider]
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Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #1 on Oct 20, 2009, 7:08am »
Whichever man decided the horse was an animal capable of being relied on needed to think again.
Ichabod tread vigorously, muttering a critical harangue under his breath. It seemed to be useless repeating the animal's name over and over with some ill expectation that he would emerge, it just didn't seem to be working. Slow and heavy passed the time. It would be vain to attempt describing what Ichabod felt whilst he hastily stepped through the dark, assuming a look of firmness and composure but secretly he was un-nerved to be wandering around in the night's black now unacommpanied and his conveyance having startled and scarpered within a whinney at the first loud rumble of thunder. It seemed that an unfavourable trait - the trait of shrinking away at the first sign of fear or timidity- of Ichabod's had rubbed off onto Gunpowder. Like master like horse.
The path riddled with loose and uneven paving stones, suddenly ended into a pitch of black grass. Ichabod's furrowed lifted into admitting acknowledgement, his eyebrows high on his forehead as he narrowed his eyes ahead. Mother of Mercies. Once more he read of his unease again as he perceived the eerily picturesque structure before his eyes, fitting to the miserable grey sky up above that hungrily rumbled. It seemed unavoidable, no path around and the building so large it occupied such a large space. The only way was through. All Ichabod's hopes and wishes were now concentred in one, namely that Gunpowder had fled inside for shelter and they could quickly take home.
At length daywas no more; despairing night usurped its place; and the place which - unknown to Ichabod - was once a place of writ empowering, became the habitation of pale, dejected melancholy. And disembodied spirits and specters. Ichabod remained at the gateway, turning his head once more for any hope of spotting the blasted horse. Then awkwardly swallowed a craven lump as he entered the creaking gate. A crow cawing loudly in the distance.
(In other words - Ichabod's horse ditched him and now he's stranded ;P)
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #2 on Oct 20, 2009, 5:17pm »
It's flying… It's really flying!
The flying machine rose higher and higher, the strength of the wind against Axel's face telling him it was moving faster than ever before. Although it was the first time he took flight alone he was almost certain everything would go over well, his only regret Elaine wasn't here to experience this. How she would have loved to be here, the sensation of flying through the air undoubtedly making her spread her arms wide and scream with delight. A smile appeared on his face as he recalled her reaction the last time they came close to achieving a smooth flight, it abruptly ending with the machine crashing straight into a tree. Flying alone seemed a little too quiet in comparison.
A ray of mild autumn sunlight reflected on his goggles as he steered his metal invention, beaming and shivering with cold and excitement. The motor was running well, the loud hum reducing his nervousness to a minimum. Glancing behind him for a split second he noticed he couldn't see the large house anymore, it already swallowed by the horizon, the enormous wasteland around it now only a straight golden line. A forest began to appear before him, making him realize he'd never been to this side of the country before. This made the young inventor a bit worried. Where was he heading?
The machine responded to his internal question with a loud bang, creating a bit of turbulence. That's normal, he assured himself. I'm no Wright brother anyway. He smiled to himself, his attempt to chuckle ruined by yet another bang, distinctively louder this time. Outstretching his arms as wide as he could he managed to pull both levers at the same time, hoping it would straighten the machine out. This proved to be no use as the machine was already in overdrive, making him realize it was more likely to hit the ground before he returned it to it's normal speed. He had pushed it too far, it already starting to plummet to the ground. He was going to crash and he was going to do it fast.
Frozen in fear and helpless, Axel closed his eyes, hoping this was all just a dream, wishing flying fish and Eskimos would suddenly appear before him. A loud crash echoed through the forest, the blow sending him out of his comfort zone and into pitch darkness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Axel? Axel…" A soothing female voice whispered in the dark, her voice familiar although he wasn't able to fully distinguish it.
"Who's there? Where am I?"
"Axel I had a friend who was just like you." The voice continued, paying his confusion no mind. "And when we were little we would roller skate on my…"
"… on your roof. A huge, huge roof. No people…" He filled the rest of the sentence in, it suddenly dawning on him. He had heard this story before. "Grace, is that you?"
"And I would keep rollerskating and each time I would get closer to the edge…" she paused, catching her thoughts. "And he was standing behind me, just like you. And he wouldn't let me go…" her voice drifted into the distance.
"Grace, no! Grace? Please! Grace?" He called timidly.
"Don't let go, Axel. Don't let go…" her whisper echoed as if he was standing in a huge cave, leaving him forever. It was soon replaced by an eerie silence that chilled him to the bone with fright. What was going on?
In the death car, you're alive. In the death car, you're alive.
Who's thoughts were these? His? Or someone else's?
Just then light footsteps began to echo in the distance, moving straight towards him. A light flickered on, the almost blinding glow concealing the person carrying it. Although the figure moved slowly it seemed to reach him in seconds, it's graceful demeanor telling him it was another female. He was also able to figure out he was sitting on the floor, finally becoming aware of his body.
"Axel", she said sweetly, proceeding to dim the light.
His eyes widened as he recognized the woman towering over him, smiling and beaming in a long, white dress.
"Mom?" he asked, torn between the urge to start crying or kick himself for asking such an obvious, silly question.
His mother giggled sweetly. "Good Morning, Columbus." The fair lady said teasingly.
Axel smiled, it short lived as a thought came to his head. "Mom…" He felt her light draw him in, outstretching his hands towards her as if he wanted to be carried. "Mom, can I..?"
The angelic figure shook her head, taking a step back. "Wake up, Columbus."
He stood up on week legs, heartbreak written on his face, wanting to follow her, wanting to get lost inside the light, knowing it hurt her as much as it hurt him. They stood still for a moment, Axel silent because of the wish burning inside him, her with a calculated look on her face that set him on edge. Suddenly she launched herself towards him, the light falling to the ground as she grabbed his shoulders, her hands hot enough to melt his clothes.
"Wake up!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His whole body shuddered as he returned to conscious state, his legs involuntarily kicking the ground in the process. A violent cough took over him, forcing him to snap out of his daze instead of coming out of it slowly on his own. Fluttering his eyelids a couple of times he managed to open them, his unusual vision telling him the goggles were still covering them, surprisingly remaining unintact during the crash. Taking them off he sat up ever so slowly, a splitting headache increasing every time he changed position. "Fuck", he whispered to himself, his hand traveling towards the painful area, able to feel a bump underneath his hair, the pain going from dull to sharp as his fingers fumbled along. "Oh, shit!", he grimaced ceasing the torture immediately. "You should have just let me sleep, mom", he said without thinking, then frowned. What am I talking about?
Feeling his strength coming back he managed to stand up on two legs, it providing him a better look at the scene before him. The flying machine rested on the ground a few feet away from him, shattered to pieces. He concluded he must have fallen out right before it hit the ground, a simple set of circumstances responsible for him being able to walk away with just a bump on his head. If it had fallen on him, he would have been dead for sure.
Well, lucky me, managing to land… He raised his brow as he spotted a large old building before him. Directly in front of an abandoned, creepy building.
He stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. There was no way he could find a way home, he couldn't even remember anything about what he was doing before apparently deciding to get into the flying machine. Unable to figure out where he was or where he was supposed to be heading, the best thing would be to stay put, right? And being inside seemed safer than staying outside, who knows what kind of lunatics and wild animals lurked in these woods.
Axel shot the place another look, sighing heavily. Heavy-hearted and staggering, he slowly entered the building.
(Color + Italic = Flashback. Sorry about the ridiculous length ><)
« Last Edit: Oct 21, 2009, 10:26am by Axel Blackmar »
Sweeney Todd Burtonoob Demon Barber member is offline
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Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #3 on Oct 21, 2009, 1:48am »
The sound of Todd's boots echoed heavily through the long hall of cells. His steps were determined. Deliberate. Purposeful. He was not afraid of this place. This place was suppressed underneath his being and now it stood manifest. His tired eyes pierced through the gray darkness of the jail, animated now by the rotting walls. The steps were slow, steady. Each cell that passed clouded the demon barber's vision. He knew why he was there.
He was there because restless nights in his parlor did not bother him. Every waking and sleeping hour he would dream of his wife Lucy and his dove, Johanna. They were nightmares because they were fictional. When he awoke, this fictional world did not exist. This too, was a nightmare. So no, he was not afraid of this place, this place which was subject to several myths and legends. No, he welcomed those abandoned shadows that graced the echoing hallway. He recognized them. He knew them by name.
Alone in this dark place of buried secrets was where he belonged. Not in the godforsaken parlor who's dust and wooden floors mocked him, laughed in his face every night when a body dropped down that trap door. The floors laughed each time he failed to bring in the judge. But there was one night, one particular night, he heard that mocking voice. He heard it as clear as the bell above his parlor door. It came to him in a infectious luring waltz. It told him that death was the ultimate conviction, the ultimate judgment. He should carry out that sentence. For the judge, for everyone.
The voice grabbed on to something deep within Sweeney's being, and soothed his racing thoughts, slowed the churning, the planning, the anxiousness. He was here now. He had no fears. Everything that could have ruined his life already happened. Now, within the walls of this jail, the voice told him it was time to give out punishment properly. So he left Fleet Street without notifying Lovett. She may figure out his whereabouts, she may not. He had spoken of the jail before after hearing about its myths from his now dead customers. Maybe he hinted at his desire to visit it, maybe he didn't. Now, he did not have the slightest care.
Sweeney felt a cold presence behind him and he stopped abruptly. He turned around. No one. The presence was still with him, as if this person was close enough to whisper in his ear. "Show yourself." Sweeney commanded, reaching for his razor.
Silence. Silence accept the cool air gently brushing pass his skin, like a single breath. Like a single note of a song.
Protect the gold.
The three words that seemingly came from the walls of the cells told him much more. Three words told him people had entered the building on the other side and he was not alone. The words told him that he knew of terror, he knew of shadows. It was his job to show them the darkest of shadows.
A slight hint of a grin appeared and disappeared from his face as he responded, "Happy to oblige."
He continued his steps, his pace quickening. Bloodlust was sweeter in this place, sweeter under the veil of conviction. He knew what it was like to be convicted. Justice will be served.
(ok so this is the intro template for people who want to create mayhem in this place. The ghost of Vane is egging your already crazy desires on for his benefit, 'calling' you through the gold. You can approach this differently of course, but this I guess an idea to get your minds churning)
No, not Barker. That man is dead. It's Todd now. Sweeney Todd.
...and he will have his revenge.
Thanks a bunch to Ichabod for the graphics!
Ichabod Crane Administrator Amatuer Deducter member is offline
Murder needs no ghost come from the grave[on:Put to the test][of:Saw a spider]
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Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #4 on Oct 21, 2009, 4:25pm »
' .. G-Gunpowder?'
Remonstrance was vain; he might as well have preached to the winds as endeavour to persuade the horse from any action, if he were even in the same building as he. However applied on which he had set his mind and after a little ineffectual struggle he gave up the attempt, and left himself to follow the bent of his own inclinations, whatever those were. Gunpowder was, evidently, not here.
'That horse shall walk on a lead .. ' Ichabod muttered, feeling a chill run up his back and subsequently taking shiver. It was one cold night in the latter end of October, and the interior walls reflected that melancholy feel of bitter Autumn brink. He felt his shoulders shivering beneath his coat as he slowly circled on the spot, observing every high window and black stone brick and his higher lip started involuntarily as he was surprised from the shadow of a rat fleeing at the wall's edge. Such were the dreadful images that haunted his gripped mind, and any scrap of boldness was sinking fast under the dreadful malady which was his nature.How such a man came into the force of law anyone would hardly know to account for, and how he afterwards rose to posts of exposure and vulnerability was likewise strange and wonderful.
An accident happened that Ichabod had not been prepared for, his hand taking feverishly to his pistol aside his hip and both hands clumsily grappling, swinging to where he had thought he had heard the sound of shambling, someone or something giving themself the power and permission to enter. His fumbling aim dragged across the shadows, that was where things like to lurk. An order from his most paranoid impulse.
'Who .. Who's there?'
(Targeted towards Ax - but feel free to hear ;P)
« Last Edit: Oct 21, 2009, 4:26pm by Ichabod Crane »
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #5 on Oct 21, 2009, 5:21pm »
This place was beautiful...
And yet oh so disgusting.
The abandoned place had a disused romance of sorts. A fascinating history.
So macabre. So bloody.
Alluring somehow...
So much fear.
So much potential.
I think you and me both know you can't win this.
Mort was dying. He sat motionless, empty, upon a dull steel table patched with ancient bloodstains in one of the lower cells of this seemingly endless labyrinth; his eyes were glassy, vacant now and fixed to the door. He couldn't remember it being locked. That said, he couldn't remember actually getting there or why there was a tiny rip in his shirt.
Three hours now, this war had raged between the personalities. They had ping-ponged back and fourth for a while, Mort initially putting up a resistance due to his fear of the place and Shooter only finding himself able to repress it and take control when a strangely cool, blanket-like breath of air soothed the writer's fears and made him fair game. Soon enough, however, the calming chill would leave and Shooter would be overwhelmed by Mort's terror.
The sheer animal instinct powered on by the small room and it's eerie contents; the faded bloodstains on the walls, the way the sound bounced around inside a person's skull like a demented beast...It drove him, a man hardly used to more scare than being cut up on the road or finding a dead dog, witless. He never should have picked the horror genre. Locked inside with only this fear and the green-grey light shining off of the steel, Mort had screamed blue murder until he was hoarse and banged upon the doors and walls until skin tore and he left crimson smears on the walls. Nothing worked. It was a miracle noone had heard, but the echoing noises that bounced down the grey corridors felt like the screams of generations past as it was-one more voice amongst the damned would make little impact. Unable to merely creep into his subconscious again and seize control subtly, John decided to forcibly tear Mort's grasp away from the physical vessel by manifesting himself as a physical being again to visit the plagiarist-and this time he was angry.
Mort had never stood a chance, and to the outside observer the final confrontation would have looked like the most awkward, unnerving piece of physical theater imagined. Now, however, he didn't move, merely sat on the operating table, hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically as he readjusted to his new being. For some reason, it looked as if remnants of the fight, in a far less fatal form, still remained on his body: a faded red mark on his arm accounted for the scuffle when Mort tried to run; a faint bruise on his neck where he'd been strangled; a light cut near his stomach where the knife had slid up under his ribs so easily...
A tremor inside made Shooter flinch a little and with contemptible ease he quashed it, snuffed out Mort for the time being. Again now, the cool air he'd been waiting for, that had been visiting so reliably, clawed at his shoulders, his back, and propelled him from the table back to standing. He swayed lightly, expression glazed; almost immediately the adrenaline rush of the fight, the explosive rage, the heated desire to escape into physical being and be more than a fictional creation...It abated. He drew in a slow, smooth breath, blinked twice. A whisper prickled through his very being.
Protect the gold.
The door unlocked and swung outwards of its own accord, out into narrow corridors and failing lights; humming electrics and the vague sensation of others in there. Threats.
Protect the gold.
Slowly, Shooter crossed the room and took one of the old, horrific operation implements from the rusted tray with a sort of reverence. Turned it over in his hands. Smiled. The grisly light glimmered in his malicious stare.
"I know I can do it."
Like the specter pulling at his strings, John slipped out of the room without a sound, leaving nothing but dull screams and several daubs of blood to tell of his inhabitance.
Joined: Mar 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 38 Karma: 0
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #6 on Oct 23, 2009, 1:17am »
There was a musty smell in the air. Barbossa had made it a little ways inside, surveying the long the dark abandoned surroundings. He recalled the pirates he knew that were transported to this place as he walked. Only the walls of the building know the terrifying ways they perished. Worse than hanging, they said. Barbossa could almost swear he could hear the clanging of the cell bars, the torturous screams from some far off secret location in the building.
Best be gittin' what ye came fer and make scarce, Barbossa thought. Not only gold, but gold that could possibly grant one's deepest desire, providing the legends were true. Barbossa knew what his deepest desire was, he had many. Sailing the seas forever, captaining the best crew and ship the world has ever seen, looting the most abundant wealth they could find. Barbossa already felt he was pretty close to achieving those deep desires, with him captaining the Pearl and all.
Though the crew sometimes wouldn't be the brightest.
The gold could only help.
Suddenly he heard sounds in the distance. Footsteps possibly. Voices.
Ah, looks like someone's been sharin me ideas, Barbossa thought. Barbossa picked up his pace and moved towards the noise. He was very much aware that it could be spirits haunting this place. But he was fairly certain that these were intruders like himself, going after the same thing. Barbossa was prepared for either scenario.
Soon a shadow of a person appeared in the distance. A shadow of a living human. Barbossa approached the man who, he assumed, was the voice he heard. The person was looking in the distance. There were two people.
"T's not polite t' be trespassin' an' comin' in unannounced," Barbossa's rough and low voice pierced the silence. It was something that would shock anyone out of their wits if they didn't realize he was there. He started approaching the man and as he came closer, he began to recognize from his attire that he must be a man of privileged origins.
"But t'would be wise fer ye t' go back where ye came. Whatever ye lookin' fer, ye won't find it," Barbossa told the man cunningly, hoping both he and his companion would turn around and leave.
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #7 on Oct 23, 2009, 7:34am »
Dark, eerie and somewhat disgusting. An enormous space it was, old and full of history Axel wasn't sure he really wanted to know about. Numerous cells lined the halls, some closed, some too rusty to still be functional. Axel frowned at them. A jail? I've chosen to spend the night in an deserted jail? He felt the urge to laugh at this ridiculous notion. Could this day possibly get any worse?
Apparently it could. Still dazed and confused over the blow he received to the head, a figure appeared before him, waving a gun at him. Axel's body jolted in surprise, it sending a wave of pain to his head as he instinctively raised his hands up. "Damn it", he squeezed his eyes shut as the dull ache reached it's peak, then quickly opened them again. A man was pointing a gun at him, forcing him to keep an eye on him.
"Wow, easy now, man. I mean no harm", he remained still, deciding to stay that way until he gun was out of the picture. "My flying machine crashed. I can't remember how, but here I am."
Suddenly a rough voice broke the silence, scaring him to death, sending yet another rush of pain to his head. He wailed and shut his eyes again, deciding to screw standing still and brought his hands to his head, taking in a few deep breaths until it subsided. Still managing to catch what the elder man said, he smirked and opened his eyes, taking the man's unusual appearance in a few seconds before speaking.
"All I want to find right now is an Advil. Or some morphine. Any chance either of you have any?"
These two can't be serious, this place looks like it's been abandoned for decades.
Ichabod Crane Administrator Amatuer Deducter member is offline
Murder needs no ghost come from the grave[on:Put to the test][of:Saw a spider]
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Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #8 on Oct 23, 2009, 5:48pm »
(Not as far as I can remember Barbs)
When the constable was caught off his guard was when his most apprehensive consciousness returned to smother him. He expected almost anything to jump from the shadows and brook no refusal for his blood. A mad man branishing a weapoin far more aggressive than his mere pistol, a spirit of the dead or some frightful lusus naturae. Anything. Ichabod's arm shook more violently with his growing alarm, drawing lines of hysteric air in and out of his nostrils feverishly. It could be anything.
A voice that suggested youth broke through the black of the darkened way, endervouring to convince him of their innocense and that no harm was posed by them. Ichabod narrowed his eyes, examining the picture and the quivering in his aim steadying as he felt himself untense. The dark began to shed away, revealing not but a just a boy - wailing like a poor wounded creature as he suffered spasms of, what looked like, ailment to the head. Like a sudden spark of electric fire, Ichabod seemed for a moment to suspend his faculties and render himself unsure what to think, and say - for a moment he was transfixed, billowy eyed he caught his composure at last and bent his elbow slightly to move the gun away from him. Settled not to keep aim but not sure enough as to lower it fully. No sooner had he moved had he felt a bitter chill begin to take him in an unloving embrace. It beseeched him, name not the lovely spring and summer air in the same breath. The biting breeze a seducer, a mean, ungenerous seducer of unsuspecting innocence. Dare not hope that purity like his would stoop to unite itself with black, premeditated foul play.
A voice that was a wicked, raspy echo of the cold air startled Ichabod almost immediatly. An outcry so loud it could wake the dead breaking loose up his chest and the finger on the trigger of the flintlock accidentally detonating and a bullet that frightened him a second time exploding. Luckily no target was aquired, the bullet ricocheting from a rusted bar and nailing itself hard into the stone of a wall. It looked to be that the young constable had lost his placidity a second time tonight and that quivering shaking on his shoulders and back again. The moon, with pale and virgin lustre shed through the small, barred windows and ornamented the canopy of his confrontier. A man with an impression on his face that kept Ichabod's nerves firmly inside him.
He attempted to catch his breath and speak both at once, 'I .. uhmm, s-sir .. please, pardon my intrusion .. '
There was an intermission where the boy spoke, Ichabod quickly craning his head to talk to him . 'N-no, I don't .. ' He wasn't truthfully sure what it was the young man was asking for, but his priority worry was still the quite eerie, mysterious elder. Turning back to him and a stammer still in his chin, 'I seek only my horse,' Ichabod cleared his throat awkwardly, repeating like he would have thought no one had heard him. 'M-my horse.'
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #9 on Oct 24, 2009, 12:24pm »
At this moment in time, Mrs.Lovett was caught between encouragement and disillusionment.
When the pie maker had awoken that morning and discovered the solemn barber's parlour to be empty, a terrible weight had dropped into the pit of her stomach. He was always there, whether he were stood waiting, rigid by the old, stained window overlooking the streets of London under morning fog. Or, seen sitting and pondering in the chair he had so ingeniously altered, or broodingly pacing about the room, boots thudding softly against the creaking wooden-paneled floor.
But not today. He was not to be seen there, nor in the pie shop, or the bakehouse. And best believe the lady searched, even visiting the marketplace and the area of town where Pirelli's infamous stage perched. Not to be seen anywhere.
Mrs.Lovett tried to distract her thoughts from flitting about its worry as she hustled about the counter, preparing her delicious meat pies for all customers to enjoy. Waiting for him to return. But when he did not, she grew as anxious and nerve-ridden as ever, unable to stand being alone without knowing where he was or how he was.
Mrs.Lovett had finally decided to depart but being tied to her fair infant Timothy, felt torn between a great dilemma. She left him in the care of Anthony, trusting him to watch over him, with the promise of a reward for his efforts upon her return.
And so she went. A hat on her head, restraining her auburn coils as she drew her shawl about her shuddering shoulders in the cold air. She briskly walked, boots clopping against the cobblestone until she left populated streets and entered upon more deserted threshold.
Just up above towered a most foreboding building, its structure appearing ancient, cracked and worn with age. Mrs.Lovett's tawny eyes lifted, examining the scene before her. It looked abandoned, as if it had been left untouched for many years. But at the same time, it seemed haunted. That was a quality it possessed that few would deny. As her strides took her closer to the mysterious building, she asserted in her mind that despite its obvious abandonment, the place must have contained much history.
Above the doors, was a sign so scarcely visible that she had to squint to make out the letters. The Alpatraum. That did not satisfy her curiosity in the slightest, rather managing to increase it. She furrowed her brow and halted, staring at the doorway.
A gunshot pierced the once quiet air, startling the pie maker and causing her to jump. No' so abandoned, after all...
After a few moments of hesitation, she picked up her pace, picking her skirt up as she sprinted towards the doors and soon found herself within the walls. Faced with three men. One she knew very well, one she knew not at all, and one who seemed vaguely familiar.
"Ichabod?" Mrs.Lovett questioned, figuring that it had been him who had set off the gunfire. "...Wot's happening 'ere?"
« Last Edit: Oct 24, 2009, 8:12pm by Willy Wonka »
Shock Burton Beginner Halloween's Finest Trick Or Treaters member is offline
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Joined: Nov 2008 Gender: Female Posts: 62 Location: Boogies Place Karma: 24
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #10 on Oct 25, 2009, 7:24pm »
Although the gold is very old, Shock must do what Shock is told Vaney float’s inside my head Tells me that they’ll soon be dead
Protect the gold and keep it safe Acting as a little waif What Vaney tells me, Shock must do And Shock is coming after you… Hee hee hee hee hee
A creepy, singsong voice rung eerily around the inner sanctum of Alptraum. Between the long stretched and somewhat distorted shadows, a small shape moved, cackling loudly as she sang her song over an over like some kind of messed up music box. The ‘captain’ had given her her orders and now she had to follow them. He whispered quietly in her ear, telling her she had to protect the gold from anyone who would dare take it from him. Shock, a lover of mischief had fallen easily to the persuasive voice of the ‘captain’ and now she wandered between the shadows like a spectre, pulling behind her a small truck filled with all sorts of deadly, devious and wicked tricks, ready for the task that lay ahead of her.
The dank smell of decay was rampant in the air; it was the perfect place to set up some wickedly treacherous traps to snare her victims but which ones to start with? Perhaps starting small would be a good idea for now, after all to get the reaction she wanted out of them, she’d have to scare them a little first before she scared them a lot. The squeaking wheels of the trolley behind her seemed to reverberate off the damp, slime coated walls and she came to a halt at a cross section where the corridors split into four.
Dropping the heavy steel handle onto the uneven floor with a loud crack, Shock set her small hands to work, pulling a long length shiny metal string from the depths of her trick or treat bag. A few moments later and the little witch had strung a huge spider web of thin metal diagonally between the four corridor so no matter where her initial victim came from, they’d find themselves tangled in her first web of tricks. Digging back into the trick or treat sack again, she pulled out a number of spherical objects and fastened them to the four corners of her web in quick succession. She had to be quick, she hadn’t become one of Halloweens finest trick or treaters by being slow, her work was fast, thought through and incredibly easy to detonate. Now all she had to do was wait for the first fat flies to find themselves caught up.
(( Okies a nice and short one to start ^^ hope you like ))
Joined: Mar 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 38 Karma: 0
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #11 on Nov 2, 2009, 10:15am »
He heard the younger man wail and a gun shot sound. Not waiting to find out where the bullet went, Barbossa pulled out his own pistol at the constable, not even amused by his stammering. He explained he was looking for his horse. The other lad was looking for two things he's never heard of in life. Maybe there was more to this place than just treasure. Or maybe he's just daft. In Barbossa's perspective, anyone armed trespassing on uncharted land is unlikely to have innocent intentions. Better safe than sorry.
Tilting his head upwards slightly in order to look down on his target he said, "Iye, is that so? Well t' be sure, ye won't be findin' a horse in this place. So it be in ye best interest t' go back were ye came."
Another sound of footsteps. Barbossa redirected the pistol's aim in the direction of the sound but lowered it when he saw it was only a lass. A familiar one at that. He had to have seen her once before.
"This be not a place fer gatherin'. Ghosts are said t' haunt these halls. Best fer ye t' catch up with ol' hearties elsewheres." His voice hinted a bit of frustration. If they were just mere civilians, they should have no problem with leaving. But if they were after the gold, Barbossa would have more to worry about than an ancient undead pirate.
Suddenly a spooky song echoed through the quiet building. To that he gave a devilish grin at the group. "Iye, th' spirits agree."
(btw in classic horror movie motif, you can't get out. The door you came in is locked )
Ichabod Crane Administrator Amatuer Deducter member is offline
Murder needs no ghost come from the grave[on:Put to the test][of:Saw a spider]
Joined: Mar 2008 Gender: Male Posts: 1,710 Location: New York Karma: 390
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #12 on Nov 2, 2009, 6:36pm »
(Of course XD)
However reserved or standoffish Ichabod might like himself to be in these resolutions, he certainly did not take a proper method to confirm himself right then. Several times in the course of the minute he, by an imposed force, indulged himself in reading over the barrel of the gun again and again every second it stayed on him, swallowing slowly the lump in his throat as the rest of him was motionless and a shade whiter. His last encounter with another man's pistol hadn't ended well and he had the handed-out grant immersed into his skin to prove it; yet it was his poor luck to be aimed at again when the smoke had barely aired from his last shooting. He had forgotten his own pistol clinging to his loose grip for dear life. The young constable managed to elude the eye of vigilance; and Mrs. Lovett, who had waited his word with patience, received it with a secret rapturous feeling inside him so relieved to see someone he was at least comfortable with and unbounded acknowledgments for their condescension, wisely keeping the elder at the corner of his eye.
'Nothing, I - I was .. oh,' Ichabod was looked down at the pistol trembling in his hand, perceiving it that must have been what drawn her. 'I was .. just a little bit startled,' He spoke quickly, hinting an embarassment before bolding his voice to press importance. ' .. But Mrs. Lovett, really .. perhaps it not best for you to be out so .. '
His voice died away into the eerily melodious whispers, every word successing his quivering skin and every shred of laughter encouraging his desire to escape. Waiting for the dreadful song to fade away, he swallowed again. This eloquent tune was given with such volubility, that Ichabod could not find an opportunity to interrupt, or to offer a single word till the whole was finished, and even then found his ideas so confused, that he knew not what to say. Letting a silence seeth. A cause of never-ceasing remorse aching to himself; had these dreadful consequences been placed before him in a proper light, the humanity of his nature would have urged him to give up the pursuit of Gunpowder. What a fool he must be. Ichabod intended to obey the .. gentleman, and feeling his own abashed heart too much inclined to have Mrs. Lovett accompany him, the hapless Ichabod consented that the next word would be the last and the younger lad could endeavour to do as he pleased, or should all else fail Ichabod would throw himself entirely in the protection of his pistol. Though a lot of good it had seen him through so far against anything in places like this.
'Yes, I .. um, quite agree, sir.' Ichabod's eyes were still trailing over the ceiling, brow creased before he began backing away, not waiting to finish as he tapped subtly his fingers at the woman's arm so she might follow him away. At length he determined that she would go with him to some place of temporary shelter and resolute to remaining behind in that safety until however long it took for daylight to shed. Yet, as Ichabod tried the door - alot firmer closed then it was to be when he had let it hang ajar - it did not budge. Hands to both looped knockers he pulled, failing that he mounted his boot sole against the door and began rapidly and disorderedly jerking at it with all his force.
When he could take no more he stopped, and alighted with the aspect of nerves and effort written all over his face; breathing slow and heavy. So much do the emotions of the soul influence the body. How foolish it was of him to think it would be so easy as just opening the door and slipping out. No, it was never that easy.
'Mister .. pirate-man .. sir,' He looked at the elder gentleman again, wavering his arm behind him back at the sealed door. The panic in his voice becoming more and more obvious. 'How do you propose we leave when the door will not open? What trick is this!'
Ichabod by now was half-convinced he was in a dream and had only moments before he would jerk awake.
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #13 on Nov 5, 2009, 11:21am »
Axel's eyes traveled from one man to the other, a frown of confusion on his face. Although things seemed strange after suffering a blow to the head, he was almost certain that the course of events that were now unfolding before him had nothing to do with his injury. Suddenly a gunshot went off, making him once again jolt and grimace in pain, even though he was already getting used to both. The elder man pulled out a gun as well and he found himself surrounded by weapons, making him react on impulse and outstretch his arms in the direction of both men, his palms flat as if he were a traffic policemen stopping two cars.
"Hey!" he cried out, not really sure of what he was doing or what possessed him in that moment to get between the two men. Realizing the seriousness of the situation he had just put himself in, he swallowed hard. "Could we just put the guns away for a second and talk like human beings, please?" he asked in a humble tone of voice, hoping his politeness would catch on. Then a woman walked in, apparently already acquainted with the younger man and referring to him as 'Ichabod'. She looked as confused as he felt. However, his attention now darted to the elder man, who chose this particular moment to inform them ghosts walked the halls of this creepy place.
"Well, it certainly looks haunted", he answered, not fully believing him but not dismissing the idea just yet. He had to admit there was something gruesome going on here, leaving him uncertain if the eerie scenery was the only reason he felt this way. "I think it's best if we all get out of here. I had an accident earlier and…" Just then a melody came floating on the chill breeze, making everyone stop talking for a moment. It reminded him of a child singing a nursery rhyme, although he wasn't able to make out the words. He was however able to distinguish the melody repeating itself a couple of times, before suddenly stopping as if someone turned off a stereo. It wasn't until he saw Ichabod's face that he started to feel unnerved by this strange occurrence, for he looked scared to death. This coming from a man with a gun. Then a new notion arrived – the door was now locked. This was just too much.
"What?" The young man inquired, feeling slightly peeved. He walked over to the door in a few long, almost angry strides, deciding to ignore the pounding in his head as he did so. He proceeded to pull the round knockers himself a few times before glancing over to Ichabod, feeling strange about asking a man who had threatened to shoot him just moments ago for help, but deciding to do so anyway. The pirate man didn't look reliable and he assumed it would be better for two men to pull the doors, therefor ruling out the only woman among them. All that mattered now was getting out of this place, or at least being able to choose to get out of it when he felt he was well enough to do so. "Let's try it together, Ichabod, is it?"
Holding the knocker with both hands Axel proceeded to pull his side of the door with all his might, it not bugging at all. "Unbelievable", he grumbled to himself as he tried a couple of times more, untill the pain in his head got too hard to bare. A sickening feeling rummaged through his stomach, something he hadn't felt till now. Letting go of the knocker he placed both hands on the trembling area and stepped away from the door, blinking a few times at this uncomfortable feeling that was now tearing him apart. "I don't… feel so g…" the word trailed off as the feeling shot from his stomach to his throat, his hands now squeezing the area as he slumped over and vomited all over the floor. His throat made a horrible sound as he'd done so, the spasms coming and going in waves. After a few moments of torture Axel somehow managed to stagger away from the dreadful spot, leaning his back to the stone wall and letting himself slide down to the floor, covered in sweat and too exhausted to stand for the time being. His head, on the other hand, felt much better.
Catching his breath he decided not to apologize for this little mishap, but rather glance in the direction he knew the two men kept their guns. The battle was over, but they hadn't yet lost the war. "Just shoot the damn door."
Re: Black Gold Conviction(open, happy Halloween? L « Reply #14 on Nov 5, 2009, 7:47pm »
The lady served currently as a spectator for the scene, and it seemed that this position wouldn't be changing so quickly. The constable took his sweet time in replying to her inquiry, and as she waited, her eyes fixed to the pirate before them. She could recognize him, especially with his strong figure and his distinctive voice, bells in her mind were ringing. But a face to a name couldn't be placed.
His tone was intimidating as he watched them wearily, warning them and recommending their leave. But, if he was so firm in his belief in the risks of spending time in this abandoned asylum, just why was he still here standing here? Promoting his opinion to people who wouldn't listen? But Crane probably would, and he was becoming increasingly visibly nervous.
Ichabod's stammerings came right as expected, but her curiosity ceased to be eased. There was no real danger here, and the constable had only acted impulsively after experiencing a wave of nerves. This was a believable feat.
And that made two men desperate to ward her off from this new place. The pie maker felt no fear or no shift in her intentions, and still desired to remain within the confines of this place until she was completely confident that Mr.Todd did not lurk here. Her curiosity would finally be eliminated, but her worries would be escalated. What if the barber were not stalking about the asylum? Since he had not been spotted in the parlour, the bakehouse, the marketplace or even within the city limits on this dreary day, the options were running out.
An eerie song rang through the otherwise deserted halls, shaking the core of each soul in that room save the pirate, who appeared completely intrigued. Mrs.Lovett shuddered slightly. Was she a woman to believe in the paranormal? The thoughts did not cross her mind often. She had concerned much of her energy with growing up, making a living and surviving in London and eventually acheiving her greatest dreams. Just an every-day lady workin' hard and hardly benefitting. That was, untill she discovered a satisfying substitute for the once disgusting meat filling...
Ichabod was already beginning to back away, his footsteps against the floor echoing softly against the peeling walls. His hands reached the doorknob and he panickedly began yanking at it, finding the door to be quite heavy and unmovable. This was no surprise - a place as ancient and unkept as this should be quite faulty in strucutre.
The young man who was with them was growing very agitated. He seemed to be suffering from intense soreness or pain in his forehead, and Mrs.Lovett's suspicions were answered when let himself loose and out it came. She was careful not to grimace as she glanced away, waiting until he had finished.
He was very determined on leaving this place, too. He suggested shooting the door, which would be a tactful thing to do...but would it be guarenteed to work?
"Might I ask wot 'appened to you, boy?" she questioned, lifting her skirt slightly as she took a few steps closer to him and the anxiety-ridden constable.
"In any case, I've got me somefin' that could 'elp you. 'Ere" and with that, Mrs.Lovett drew a handkerchief from her purse and handed it to the stranger.
She lifted her head back up and glanced at Ichabod, auburn coils swaying elegantly with the movement.
"Tha's odd. I jus' opened it mere moments ago..." she commented plainly.
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