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Post by lithuania on Oct 25, 2011 23:57:08 GMT -6
He had been wandering the halls on his own for about an hour in an at least somewhat vain effort to figure out more about the mansion and exactly how screwed he was. Long ago, he had developed a tendency to meander—not so much because of a spacey nature as an inquisitive one. It was passive, of course, but Toris liked knowing things (though, with Feliks being the gossip hen that he is, he knows a lot more than he’d like in certain areas), which manifested itself in his little propensities: he wouldn’t happen across things if he didn’t look for them, phlegmatic as he may. Of course, he had always believed that he was a more independent sort of learner, preferring to work things out using his own mind when allowed, and, thus, fondly regarding the décor, his current situation had arisen.
Lithuania was used to being alone. He rather liked it, actually: it wasn’t that he didn’t like his brothers or Poland or even Ivan, to an extent, but he relished the feeling of solitude—particularly as it truly is a rare commodity in his constant conditions and role (simply put, the Eastern Bloc’s babysitter). He personally thought Canada really took his skills for granted: after all, he’d only been able to remember him after a decade of seeing him fairly frequently, and while Toris got, more or less, the same international recognition, he somehow couldn’t obtain the blessing of being left well enough alone.
Fair enough, though. He’d never truly wanted to step off of the world stage. That was, perhaps, selfish, for he had had more than his fair share of time upon it whilst he’d found himself bound to Poland, but, to be fair, it must be in a nation’s nature to be self-interested, greedy, perhaps even gluttonous. Those who are too caring surely will find themselves without identity by the hand of another such nation more inclined to inclemency. It was better, perhaps, that he stayed where he was.
So, of course, the Fates decided to give him a punch in his metaphorical kidney and effectively force him to metaphorically piss his own lifeblood for hours on end and keep him from remaining exactly where he was.
Obviously, whoever it was who had the spare time to spend watching over them wasn’t all too pleased with his opinion on the curtains, for he quickly found himself face-down on a rug whose style was quite certainly reminiscent of pret-a-porter and not true French haute couture, accordingly causing just the slightest of style clashes—not that anyone would truly notice. Lithuania, in particular, wouldn’t be noticing the panache swap nor the subtle difference between ruby and crimson, for he was just the slightest more concerned about the seemingly glacial and entirely imperceptible and intangible hands that held his ankles and wrists steadfast, the fact that he was probably going to get rug burn in places that he never should, and his being bodily schlepped away from the room.
He didn’t wince, cry out, or so much as struggle; as usual, his fight-or-flight instinct failed and he merely allowed it. That’s not to say he felt nothing—no, he felt a crushing pang of fear, the sort of terror that runs chelmaphilic through one’s veins and strikes at the very heart, to know that one is completely helpless. Lithuania was used to this, too: he’d felt that same panic for years. And yet, the same sensation that he’d feel so constantly always got him to submit again.
A quiet apology, rendered nearly incomprehensible for his stutter, tumbled from his lips: it wasn’t so much that he had done something wrong, for he hadn’t, but it was more of a reflex. While he didn’t fancy the fact that sometimes he did have to grovel in obsequiousness, it was deeply ingrained in his person—swift, unfailing apology was one of the easiest ways to nullify just the slightest bit of preliminary punishments, or so he’d learnt.
For perhaps the first time since he’d wound up in the godforsaken manor, lady Luck appeared to hold him in favour, for he was left in a room, but, if the scuffling noises were anything to go by, he wasn’t quite alone anymore. Once he returned to his senses, he realised that could, of course, mean a lot of things, but as the best-case scenario was a rat infestation, Lithuania was virtually anything but excited to find out exactly who he would be stuck with (he’d heard a lock click, certainly!) for whatever indefinite amount of time had been decided.
“E-excuse me?” he asked timidly to no one in particular.
Shockingly enough, talking didn’t really make him feel better—if anything, he felt a bit as if he was bound for the wacky shack should he continue. Toris bit his lip, and deciding that at least as of yet it would be best if he kept calm and quiet, sat slightly on his hip and rested his hands on a knee, not just yet ready to try to size up the situation.
ooc|| how to start off an event thread: this is how you do not. I'll berate myself for writing this later. Whatever, I hope it's at least a quarter of the way decent.
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Post by somalia on Oct 26, 2011 6:41:01 GMT -6
Her eyes, no longer the passionate, grassy green orbs the other countries had come to know her by were now darkened with the indesputible emotion of rage. For the young nation it was not uncommon to see that rage in her eyes but what was uncommon was to see her act so nonchalantly about it. Somalia's violent nature would lead her to attack just about anything if that anger level became too high and usually by now she could be found stabbing her knife into a wall as a way to keep from trying to kill the next living thing she saw. This was a different occasion however, she felt that her anger needed to be preserved for something else, something much worse than she had known in all of her days a nation.
The battle scarred nation had many a weakeness, be it her lack of energy or the many scars that had been ripped into her flesh, some of which weren't even battle scars yet merely scars that had been caused by the small nation's rioting people. She would need her anger if she would truly have to fight for she could only battle when enraged. Only when a combination of hatred and adrenaline seeping into her veins could give her body the strength that it lacked, however it was a draining method of battle and once she had given it her all then she would likely collapse from exhaustion. If that were to happen and she were completely alone, well she'd be royally screwed.
Needless to say it felt almost as though she were an animal at the zoo, stuck in a cage for the amusement of some cold hearted bastard. Of course it always felt this way to her, she was a country that had been fought over by three different groups of people at once and then when her own government fell nobody came to help her. Of course without a pillar of stability in her life she had no other choice than to turn into the nation everyone knows today, nothing more than an animal chained to the floor. She scoffed at the though "Like I need someone to help me! I've been standing on the line between life and death for years, and i've managed to stay alive for this long."She said a tone of sadness in her voice.
A tear quickly left her eye, rolled down her cheek and dripped down to her shirt. Her anger flared back up at once, this time more powerful than before, a snarl ripped from her mouth as she felt cold hands clamp around her arms and legs. She didn't struggle like one might expect, she didn't even fight back but instead she let out an enraged howl that echoed through the hallways. Drool spilled from her mouth as she entered into an animalistic state, pupils narrowing into slits "Rat bastards! I don't know what's going on but the first chance I get i'm tearing something or someone to shreds!"She snapped as she was dragged away.
She quickly found herself on the floor of a room. She picked herself up and looked around, her eyes quickly spotted Lithuania, the enraged nation glared at him through emerald eyes while a smirk crept onto her face slowly. The battle scarred girl grinned and began to laugh like a hyena "Lithuania! You're trapped in here too? It's delightful to see you although i'm not so sure you'd think the same of me at least not in my current state!" She cackled. It was as though she had been broken, mind completely nonexistant yet her body remained with a lingering bloodlust and rage. It was a bad situation, any nation who had known of the small country knew it was bad for her to be angry, but this was just over the limit of anger this girl could handle. Her body shook slightly as the smirking girl stood waiting for something, anything to happen because hurting Lithuania was not something she wanted to do.
ooc:Sorry! This post could have been better but i'm a little rusty at roleplaying.
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Post by romanoneko on Oct 28, 2011 2:46:39 GMT -6
Romano, unsurprisingly was stuck in a cramped corner, a short ways away from other nations, but close enough to run to if a monster showed up. Not that he exactly liked being alone, but he couldn't find his brother. The voice that bloody called him here! Growling softly, the brunette wondered where on earth that German took his brother. It had to be the German's fault. His temper flared slightly at the mention of him, but he sighed.
His brother couldn't even make him angry in this place. He was much too worried for him to get that horridly angry. Romano didn't think his brother even needed anger directed towards him. Looking away, he sighed stopping in the middle of the hallway. The one nation he followed earlier was long gone, and he didn't feel like he could catch up.
Hanging his head, the brunette looked at the wooden floors. "I want to go home." He whispered softly, his voice echoing through the empty halls. His body felt heavy, and crossing his hands over his thinning stomach from all the stress he felt something wrong. It wasn't as if his stomach was upset, it was something else. His gut.
Oh he could be over reacting, and normally he would ignore it, but in this monster fest called a house, he could care less! His legs started to run, Romano's feet pounding loudly on the wood. The male had no idea what on earth gave him the idea to run, but he was sure following it. He made it maybe twenty steps before he felt something fly past his hair, then something cold grabbed his ankles....
It felt like bones were scraping his ankles, tendrils of flesh still attached to him. His body started to shake, as he tried to look behind him, his eyes wide and his auburn-olive eyes dilated. "L-Let g-go..." He pleaded the things around his ankles. They were so cold...not unlike the cold when he sometimes would wear socks at night when it was freezing but yet wore shorts instead of pants, that one leg hanging off the bed, freezing.
His stuttering increased as he swore he heard the bones shift and tighten their grip, suddenly ripping him off his feet to the ground. A loud yelp was torn from his throat as his body slammed towards the ground, his cheek hitting roughly against the wood floor. Finding it in blind panic, he tried to claw at the floor, pulling his body forward a few inches, before the hands cruelly yanked him backwards.
Sick lurches pulled him away from his place, as his stomach shrieked along with his voice. A mantra that was so high pitched echoed in his head, 'Letgoletgoletgo', it kept repeating and repeating as the hands kept dragging him backwards. He could feel more hands clamping down on his legs and finally a shrill shriek flew past his lips.
The sound didn't seem to effect the hands as they continued to drag him somewhere. He didn't know how long it went on, but it kept dragging, and dragging, the hands getting tighter and tighter, but nothing was visibly around his ankles. Romano had the distant thought he probably looked like a idiot being dragged on the floor like this.
His mouth opened to cry for help, but nothing left his lips as he realized he couldn't speak. He heard a door open as he felt the hands on his shoulders this time. He could see the indent in his clothes. Romano made a unmanly shriek as the hands pushed him forward.
The clumsy Italian stumbled into the room, before falling flat on his face, the door slamming shut behind him. Oh great. He was now stuck in a room and there was a monster outside. The brunette scrambled to his knees, sitting looking around to see two other people in the room. He recognized Lithuania from the start...but he didn't know the other girl. She didn't look happy either.
Gulping softly, he stayed quiet, still needing to get his wits back to him. Hopefully he would be met with some type of teamwork to get out of here...hopefully.
(OOC: Sorry for the wait, I totally missed this thread and I was on hiatus for a few days, but I'm back hopefully. Sorry it took so long.)
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Post by The Second Inhabitant on Nov 8, 2011 11:46:47 GMT -6
He had been waiting for the vibration that rippled through his bones, making him shake and his fleshless body rattle with anticipation. His brother had left moments ago, having been summoned as he was being now. A hollow chuckle echoed from within his robed ribcage; the thrill inspired by his master quickened his movements as he made his way through walls, and down halls at blurring speed.
While his brother had been dubbed as the First Inhabitant, the reaper felt no discretion against his title as the Second Inhabitant. Even while he was alive, his brother had constantly jabbed him with the fact that he had been born twenty minutes before he had been so coming second came second nature to him; he ignored the irony that drifted through his scull as he came to the door.
His skeletal fingers twitched with dark excitement before his easily drifted through the wood of the door, entering the room. The interior was dark but he had no problem with vision. A haunted, grim smile erupted from the reaper’s lipless face as he considered the spectacle before him.
There were three of them, all dumbly stumbling around in the dark while fear and confusion hindered their movements. Drifting upwards slightly and away from the door, he could see that his presence had not been registered and amusement trailed its way down his spine.
‘The bumbling fools will not know what hit them… What a perfect game this will be’.
Dubbing that it had been enough time for the countries and move about, the Inhabitant flicked his fingers and the lights of the room instantly came on, blazing the surroundings to life. ‘Ah… the lounge with the large hearth, this is where father had strangled with business partner'.
The faint wisp of memory made the Inhabitant chuckle again. The dismal reverberated through the room n causing all the countries to pause and look up at him.
Crossing his robed arms, the bare bones of his hands a striking white contrast to the black of his garments, he took a moment to stare down at the horrified gazes that peered up at him.
‘Two males and a female and they all appear fairly weak… this will not take long. What a shame…’
“Greetings honored guests on behalf of my master, the Baudeau Manor! May I formally introduce myself, I am called the Second Inhabitant”, he paused long enough to bow elaborately; his robes shifting with an invisible breeze, “and I and my brother have been instructed to convene with various rooms around the mansion to announce the grand Game that has been arranged specially for you all!”
Taking a moment to allow the delicious gravity of his words to sink in, the Inhabitant dropped his hands to his sides before continuing.
“The game itself is reasonably simple: kill or be killed and this is the only rule. There are no time limits, no judges on your preference, though my brother or I may attend later on to… witness the spectacle”. The faint change of his tone echoed loudly in the room and he could already envision blood upon the floor.
“In a moment, you will be joined by one of the many pets that are loyal to my master who will excellently execute the nature of the game, which is survival”.
As the final syllable of his nature passed by his dry teeth, The Second Inhabitant suddenly clapped his skeleton hands together, causing all the countries to jump, and the door to the room swung open. Sweeping his arm towards the door, his robes fluttering around him as a dark, throatily laugh echoed from his ribcage the reaper spoke the words that filled him with so much anticipation.
“Guests I introduce to you your opponent! Please welcome, the Hell Hound, Valmork! Let the Game begin!”
The Second Inhabitant crossed his arms as he drifted backwards into to disappear through the wall as a dark creature entered the room and the door slammed shut behind it, relocking itself. A low growl rumbled from its chest.
Romano, Lithuania & Somalia's Game has begun!
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Post by lithuania on Nov 27, 2011 0:44:57 GMT -6
Two others.
He didn’t know if he should feel happy about that—he couldn’t recognise them based on sight alone, both for the darkness and his own trembling, so they might not even truly be others at all—but he did, at least a little bit: there was a decided safety in numbers, and Toris was generally pretty high on safety. Chewing absently on his lip, he strained his senses to the point of developing an irritating ringing in his ears, the type one gets when one tries very very hard to hear something that is simply not there.
“Lithuania! You're trapped in here too? It's delightful to see you—although I’m not so sure you'd think the same of me, at least not in my current state!”
Toris recoiled at the suddenness and winced at the severity of the girl’s tone (it was, indeed, a girl’s, he recognised the voice), and, resolving that an honest reply was probably not one of utmost kindness, forced a slight smile as he worked out the accent. “N-not at all, Miss Somalia, the p-pleasure is all m-mine,” he lied in his typical stammer.
Really, he was nothing short of concerned about his pairing as of yet—people don’t just get dragged around and stuck in a room by accident, particularly not in questionably benevolent manors that are conveniently chock-full of things that want to kill you—for no reason. The third member of their party, however, had yet to make themself known. Perhaps they’d be a leader, or, should they not, he’d just do what Somalia asked—God forbid he should run a group.
A snap was audible, and the lights flickered blindingly on. Lithuania flinched, as was his nature, closing his eyes quickly against the brightness. That, in itself, had sparked his nerve, shaking all the more. But with the sour came the sweet (which was only marginally less sour, in his opinion) and he recognised the person to complete their threesome—Romano.
The Baltic didn’t know Lovino very well, but figured him to be the respectable sort, held a little higher in Toris’ regard for his being an elder brother, much as he himself was, and plenty fiery, much like the Somali girl opposite him, but not exactly the bravest of people. Still, though, he was pretty sure that no matter what they were about to be made to do, neither he nor the other two were bound to do particularly well—he expected that Aziza would probably quickly be physically overcome, as she appeared underweight, though she seemed to show qualities of spiritual invulnerability, which may work better in her favour than an average body ever could.
Briefly, he tried convincing himself that perhaps this wasn’t bad at all—maybe they’d just be… writing essays! Right, writing essays… about the best way to kill one another after which they’d carry out the aforementioned plans and then even if he made it out of the manor alive it wouldn’t be without terrible guilt and—no! It’d be about baking cakes. Just pastries. Maybe the mansion always wanted to be a patisserie. Obviously, he was just overreacting.
But then, as if to scatter his candy-coated thoughts, the reaper laughed, causing him not only to jump but to glance to where the sound had come from. Initially, Toris hadn’t noticed the being, for he was doggedly glancing between the other two nations and occasionally down at his own hands, or otherwise had his eyes shut tightly against the light. Trembling all the more violently, he beheld the presence with thinly-veiled distress.
He might’ve tried to ask it what it wanted from the lot of them if he were braver (or otherwise simply more innocent), for a freaky skeleton seemed like a pretty viable ticket out of an equally freaky house and back into the outside world. But he didn’t even have a mind to try, too afraid to find words or direct its attention specifically to him. He didn’t need to, though, for it appeared it wasn’t about to hold a little questions-and-answers forum on its intentions.
“Greetings honoured guests on behalf of my master, the Baudeau Manor! May I formally introduce myself, I am called the Second Inhabitant, and I and my brother have been instructed to convene with various rooms around the mansion to announce the grand Game that has been arranged specially for you all!”
Honoured guests. That sounded ostentatious enough—he remembered writing out the same thing in dutifully neat script on the top of invitations when he worked under Ivan. He politely issued the Second Inhabitant the most miniscule of waves, solely for the purpose of getting across the ‘I heard you’ message, for Toris guessed that chatting up, befriending him, and being excused from whatever this ‘game’ may be was out of the question at this point.
”The game itself is reasonably simple: kill or be killed and this is the only rule. There are no time limits, no judges on your preference, though my brother or I may attend later on to… witness the spectacle.”
Oh, no. It began, they weren’t writing essays about sweets at all. Killing, with optional style. He didn’t suppose it’d be all too hard theoretically, but—no, stop that, he was thinking like a murderer. Surely if they just refused to fight one another, the issue could be overcome: was it possible to force them to, really? ... He didn’t really want to know.
“In a moment, you will be joined by one of the many pets that are loyal to my master who will excellently execute the nature of the game, which is survival.”
Oh God. Please not a rabbit. Please not a rabbit. Please not a rabbit. Please not a rabbit…
A loud clap like that of thunder made him jump yet again and gaze intently at the door that the Inhabitant had gestured to with a flourish. He couldn’t make out much of anything, simply a somewhat large figure that he didn’t care to seek more detail of. Instead, he stared fixedly at the robed skeleton, flinching as it laughed a second time.
“Guests I introduce to you your opponent! Please welcome, the Hell Hound, Valmork! Let the Game begin!”
As what he was staring at disappeared before his eyes, he didn’t really have much else to do but glance at the hellhound. It did appear in every way to be a dog of sorts, which he figured he could handle. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, and those essays would get written.
“H-here, boy…”
ooc|| Y'all are fine. Cx Sorry about the enormous delay, my writing muse kind of just fell off a cliff and died.
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Post by somalia on Dec 13, 2011 19:15:35 GMT -6
Somalia's eyes widened, her emerald orbs reflecting a venomous mix of pure animalistic rage and protectiveness. It was indeed true that the somali girl was anti-social but she would defend another country to the best of her abilities if given a chance. She looked the hellhound over, studying it "Well it wouldn't be a game without a little competition now would it?" She questioned.
Swiftly the african nation reached for her knife, pulling it from it's sheath in a single motion. The knife glinted dully, reflecting the enraged face of it's owner. The knife hadn't been completely cleaned from the last time it had been used so there was still a little blood left on it. The crimson color of the now dried fluid seemed to make the girl's reflection match her emotions at that moment. Red with rage and boiling blood that controlled her very being.
Her eyes darted to the dried blood on her dagger and at once she felt a pang of despair as she recalled what she had used the dagger for and where the blood had come from. She had used it against her enemy Ethiopia when they were fighting back home. It shouldn't have meant what it did to her, this was merely blood but again she was using this same dagger to fight for her life and for the life of other countries. She looked at Lithuania and then at Romano "If I die here and either of you managed to make it out alive, tell Ethiopia that i'll be waiting for her on 'the other side' besides, we still have unfinished business to attend to."She said in a viscious growl-like tone.
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Moderator
Offline.
I wear a skull for I have no face... and I shall be your personal Hell
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Post by Hellhound on Jan 22, 2012 19:29:20 GMT -6
The claws on its paws scratched the floor as it entered, its ribcage heaving with the creature's steady, hot breath. The slam of the door shutting behind it was ignored as the demon canine fixed its burning gaze upon the dwellers of the room: two males and a female. None of the humans looked physically strong or overly intelligent, though strength and logic alone would not save them from this hellhound. Valmork had no use for any sense of time, unless it is measured by the worsening state of its prey but since it had been imprisoned within the Manor, it felt no longer the command of its Great Master and only the urge to kill freely given by the Manor.
Never had the assassin of sinners ever feel such a freedom and then came this Game and oh.... it pleased the dog that its prey had nowhere to run. Steadily scrolled its line of vision over the frightened humans. It made no intention of moving and could have very welled remained standing motionlessness in the doorway, for it was in its nature to stalk and to rouse paranoia, hadn't it been for the flash of the blade that caught the hellhound's attention.
A deep, menacing growl suddenly emanated from the canine of hell; here was a human daring to face him so suddenly...it did not usually take challenges so quickly but the feistiness of the female interested the dog and it knew, it had found its first prey. In the past, Valmork would have leisurely stalked its determined prey for up to years, driving them towards insanity and away from caution, before finally ending their sinful lives. Here, however, the dog crouched, its limbs tensing, and the skull which it wore physically became more horrifying as the flames that were its eyes intensified in brightness.
Seemingly unprovoked and so sudden, the creature took all the humans by surprise when the dog, growling, charged forward across the length of the lounge, dodging a cushioned chair, before launching itself upon the small female. She had no chance. The hellhound dug its bony claws and full weight down upon her body, pinning her the ground, and sending the knife she wielded across the wood floor with the force of his landing. Bending its neck downwards, the girl's terrified face was mere inches away from the whiteness of his skull and.... she looked into the empty eye sockets of the stag's skull and saw....
The girl's screams consumed the room, agony beyond recognition within each pitch as the human was burned from the inside out by the power of the hellhound. Gracefully, the demon canine stepped off of her body, which was still quite thrashing and was vigorously smoking before finally the first lick of flames appeared from her eyes and with one final scream, a great burst of flames erupted from her body, lasting only a few seconds, before extinguishing. The room was deathly quite and all that remained of the once brave nation, was nothing more than a pile of scorched bones and ash.
Near motionless once more, the hellhound stared at the burnt body for a few more seconds before slowly turning its head towards the other two humans. Who would be next to look into the eyes of Valmork?
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