Post by Silas on Feb 2, 2008 21:33:15 GMT -5
((Okay. Here goes, folks. Unlike the Sergei thread, I'm going to try this one alone, like I should have. Feel free to comment in between my posts, though. Always welcome to suggestions...))
April 12th, 2007:
The sky was unusually dark, casting an eerie pall over everything. Thunder rumbled in the distance, sending huge amounts of energy slamming into the English countryside some hundred miles away. Rain pattered against the large window in endless sheets of water, the only sound to be heard in the dark shadows of the room. Books, as endless as the raindrops outside, lined shelves on three sides of the room, the fourth reserved for the large window looking over the city. A single desk sat in front of this window, crafted of dark red wood, a computer and a jumble of papers carpeting the surface. The chair beyond it lay vacant, as the occupant was standing next to the window, paws clasped behind his back.
The beast at the window was clearly a male fox, brushlike tail sweeping down towards the floor, his ears pointed up, listening to the rattle of rain and thunder. His pointed snout sniffed the air, smelling a fresh scent, one that often accompanied weather such as this. However, there were some major differences about this fox that were easily recognizable. For one, his fur was not the normal russet color, but completely black, from nose to tailtip. And as he looked onwards upon the city, it was revealed that his eyes were a sort of grey, devoid of passion or life. However, upon hearing the double-doors open up to his office, his tail swished back and forth in a sign of triumphant satisfaction. Without even looking over his shoulder, the fox muttered,
"Yes, Harrow?"
The other beast, a ferret, stopped in his tracks at hearing the almost-unearthly voice of his superior, now sounding smooth and confident. He silently wished that the fox would stop doing that to him, knowing he was coming before he was halfway through the door. Nevertheless, he gulped down his nervousness and stated in the british accent the fox lacked,
"Sir, it's time."
The fox flashed a predatory grin of white teeth, in contrast to his black fur. He spoke again while looking back at the window, not exactly seeing his translucent reflection mirrored in the glass. "Excellent. Tell Raven and the others to get ready."
"...Yes sir." Harrow inclined his head, then vanished down the hallway again, fur at the back of his neck still raised as if it was chilled. Meanwhile, the fox kept smiling as he looked out of the window, his thoughts upon the city below, and one sole occupant somewhere in that maze of streets.
Tonight is the night.
At that same moment, a small group of beasts came out of a restaurant into the streets of London. Laughing and joking, quite loudly, they moved back towards their apartment building. The group consisted of two shrews, a weasel, a mouse, a ferret and a fox. The fox, who was being honored for his birthday or some other special event, walked along with his back straight, his wiry, tall figure standing out, especially next to the shrews. He laughed when everybeast else did, apparently having a good time. Unknowingly, a discreet figure trailed behind them, sticking to the shadows, not wishing to be noticed by anybeast.
"Hey Marc," One of the shrews called out, ready to tell the fox another joke, but was interrupted by the bleating of car horns up ahead. One car was moving extremely fast in thier direction, not targeting them, but the shadowy figure behind them. Then, as the car neared, the fox saw something black and metallic emerge from the window of the car.
"Get down!" he yelled, shoving the weasel and the shrew in front of him down to avoid the hail of bullets coming from the UZI pointed out of the car window. The rounds ripped through their intended target, the shady figure, but the shooter kept firing, spraying the area with lead. By the time Marc hit the wall, he had two bullet wounds in his chest. Some of his friends were worse off, he knew, from the mouse. Shot in the forehead, he died instantaneously. The car drove off as the sounds of police sirens rang out. Marc knew by the time an ambulance arrived, he would probably be dead too. He struggled to breathe, his sight blurry. Coughing up blood, the fox turned over on his stomach, trying to crawl over to his friends. But the strain was just too much, and as the police car stopped at the curb, he blacked out.
The darkness overtook the fox in its shadowy grip, but as he faded from the realm of the living, he saw a light. Not the kind of light in popular media, mind you, a sort of flicker to the side of his vision. In his mind he looks over to it, and wanders over, curiosity and perhaps hope grabbing him, thrusting him forward. He neared the white speck at the horizon, the light iteself growing in size. But as he neared it, it turned yellow, then a shade of orange, then a deep crimson. Now he was being pulled towards it against his will. He panicked and tried to move away, but he couldn't.
"Marc." A voice stated out to him in a cold voice. He stopped in fear.
"You have been chosen to join us. I suggest that you don't struggle." It spoke again, a female voice.
Marc could now see that the light was produced by a beast, canine in nature, with a slim outline, the light coming from behind them.
He found his voice and spoke up, feeling the unseen grip on him stop him where he was. "W...Who are you?"
The figure came closer, the red light about them diminishing to a glow, the click of heels against the floor echoing in the darkness. Soon the figure was visible in the dark, a vixen about Marc's age, but pure black fur covering her slim, rather attractive body. She stood a little shorter than he did of course, though she came closer than she would've to his height due to her heels. a thin, white smile played across her features as she saw him, not exactly a comforting smile, to say the least. Her dark red dress matched her eyes, which gazed intently at Marc.
"Why, I'm Raven. Nice to meet you." Her smile widened, displaying her teeth. Something was a bit odd about those teeth, though they were white. Then Marc noticed it. Fangs, more so than the canine teeth that often accompanied one of their species. He looked away from her face, feeling the pull of her eyes on his mind. She stepped closer to him.
"What are you doing...?" He asked, but Raven put a claw to his lips. She answered while turning his head towards her. Then Marc was drawn in by those eyes, those terrible crimson eyes that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Shhhh. Your questions'll be answered soon." She said in a reassuring voice, though it wasn't so for the male fox. She then tapped him with a claw, and he assumed a different position, floating in midair by some supernatural occourance. His head was bent back, exposing his neck to Raven. She leaned forward, still smiling as she spoke to him.
"This won't hurt a bit. I promise."
"Wha..." He started to ask again as the vixen opened her mouth a little to bite into his neck. Then Marc saw what was coming. He fought to break the hold on him.
Can't... Move... He thought, the fear gripping him turning into panic. He felt her two fangs poke his neck...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 1:
Marc opened his eyes, breathing heavy, sitting upright. He appeared to be in some sort of hospital bed, though the room was really small to be an actual hospital, though not lacking any of the equipment. A red haze blurred his vision for a few moments until it dissipated. He blinked, and let his heart rate move down back to normal. He felt his chest for the bullet wounds, but there was just smooth fur there, nothing more.
Just a dream... He thought, and relaxed.
But as he sat back, he felt something around his neck. He quickly put a paw to it, and discovered a bandage wrapped around his neck. Before he could rationalize whatever had happened, the sound of footsteps down the hall could be heard. The timed rhythm seemed to be the only sound in the world as Marc sat and waited for whoever it was to enter. Another black fox, a middle-aged yet still fit male in a sort of casual business outfit stopped at the door leading to the infirmary, looking towards Marc.
"Ah, good. You're up. I trust you had a peaceful rest?" The black fox said, stepping forth to stand beside the bed Marc was sitting on. The younger fox had an obvious apprehension for theblack fox, eyeing him warily from his bed. "Where am I?" He asked simply.
The black fox laughed once, then quieted himself, bowing slightly as he answered the apparent patient in the hospital, "I do apologize if my manners are a bit lax these days. I am Mr. Anderson, and you are inside my humble estate. If there is anything you require, do not hesitate to ask."
"Uh-huh..." Marc replied, thinking, Humble estate? I don't think so... "Um, how did I get here?" He asked
Though it was all a dream,
Nothing is really what it seems.
Nothing is really what it seems.
April 12th, 2007:
The sky was unusually dark, casting an eerie pall over everything. Thunder rumbled in the distance, sending huge amounts of energy slamming into the English countryside some hundred miles away. Rain pattered against the large window in endless sheets of water, the only sound to be heard in the dark shadows of the room. Books, as endless as the raindrops outside, lined shelves on three sides of the room, the fourth reserved for the large window looking over the city. A single desk sat in front of this window, crafted of dark red wood, a computer and a jumble of papers carpeting the surface. The chair beyond it lay vacant, as the occupant was standing next to the window, paws clasped behind his back.
The beast at the window was clearly a male fox, brushlike tail sweeping down towards the floor, his ears pointed up, listening to the rattle of rain and thunder. His pointed snout sniffed the air, smelling a fresh scent, one that often accompanied weather such as this. However, there were some major differences about this fox that were easily recognizable. For one, his fur was not the normal russet color, but completely black, from nose to tailtip. And as he looked onwards upon the city, it was revealed that his eyes were a sort of grey, devoid of passion or life. However, upon hearing the double-doors open up to his office, his tail swished back and forth in a sign of triumphant satisfaction. Without even looking over his shoulder, the fox muttered,
"Yes, Harrow?"
The other beast, a ferret, stopped in his tracks at hearing the almost-unearthly voice of his superior, now sounding smooth and confident. He silently wished that the fox would stop doing that to him, knowing he was coming before he was halfway through the door. Nevertheless, he gulped down his nervousness and stated in the british accent the fox lacked,
"Sir, it's time."
The fox flashed a predatory grin of white teeth, in contrast to his black fur. He spoke again while looking back at the window, not exactly seeing his translucent reflection mirrored in the glass. "Excellent. Tell Raven and the others to get ready."
"...Yes sir." Harrow inclined his head, then vanished down the hallway again, fur at the back of his neck still raised as if it was chilled. Meanwhile, the fox kept smiling as he looked out of the window, his thoughts upon the city below, and one sole occupant somewhere in that maze of streets.
Tonight is the night.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
At that same moment, a small group of beasts came out of a restaurant into the streets of London. Laughing and joking, quite loudly, they moved back towards their apartment building. The group consisted of two shrews, a weasel, a mouse, a ferret and a fox. The fox, who was being honored for his birthday or some other special event, walked along with his back straight, his wiry, tall figure standing out, especially next to the shrews. He laughed when everybeast else did, apparently having a good time. Unknowingly, a discreet figure trailed behind them, sticking to the shadows, not wishing to be noticed by anybeast.
"Hey Marc," One of the shrews called out, ready to tell the fox another joke, but was interrupted by the bleating of car horns up ahead. One car was moving extremely fast in thier direction, not targeting them, but the shadowy figure behind them. Then, as the car neared, the fox saw something black and metallic emerge from the window of the car.
"Get down!" he yelled, shoving the weasel and the shrew in front of him down to avoid the hail of bullets coming from the UZI pointed out of the car window. The rounds ripped through their intended target, the shady figure, but the shooter kept firing, spraying the area with lead. By the time Marc hit the wall, he had two bullet wounds in his chest. Some of his friends were worse off, he knew, from the mouse. Shot in the forehead, he died instantaneously. The car drove off as the sounds of police sirens rang out. Marc knew by the time an ambulance arrived, he would probably be dead too. He struggled to breathe, his sight blurry. Coughing up blood, the fox turned over on his stomach, trying to crawl over to his friends. But the strain was just too much, and as the police car stopped at the curb, he blacked out.
The darkness overtook the fox in its shadowy grip, but as he faded from the realm of the living, he saw a light. Not the kind of light in popular media, mind you, a sort of flicker to the side of his vision. In his mind he looks over to it, and wanders over, curiosity and perhaps hope grabbing him, thrusting him forward. He neared the white speck at the horizon, the light iteself growing in size. But as he neared it, it turned yellow, then a shade of orange, then a deep crimson. Now he was being pulled towards it against his will. He panicked and tried to move away, but he couldn't.
"Marc." A voice stated out to him in a cold voice. He stopped in fear.
"You have been chosen to join us. I suggest that you don't struggle." It spoke again, a female voice.
Marc could now see that the light was produced by a beast, canine in nature, with a slim outline, the light coming from behind them.
He found his voice and spoke up, feeling the unseen grip on him stop him where he was. "W...Who are you?"
The figure came closer, the red light about them diminishing to a glow, the click of heels against the floor echoing in the darkness. Soon the figure was visible in the dark, a vixen about Marc's age, but pure black fur covering her slim, rather attractive body. She stood a little shorter than he did of course, though she came closer than she would've to his height due to her heels. a thin, white smile played across her features as she saw him, not exactly a comforting smile, to say the least. Her dark red dress matched her eyes, which gazed intently at Marc.
"Why, I'm Raven. Nice to meet you." Her smile widened, displaying her teeth. Something was a bit odd about those teeth, though they were white. Then Marc noticed it. Fangs, more so than the canine teeth that often accompanied one of their species. He looked away from her face, feeling the pull of her eyes on his mind. She stepped closer to him.
"What are you doing...?" He asked, but Raven put a claw to his lips. She answered while turning his head towards her. Then Marc was drawn in by those eyes, those terrible crimson eyes that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Shhhh. Your questions'll be answered soon." She said in a reassuring voice, though it wasn't so for the male fox. She then tapped him with a claw, and he assumed a different position, floating in midair by some supernatural occourance. His head was bent back, exposing his neck to Raven. She leaned forward, still smiling as she spoke to him.
"This won't hurt a bit. I promise."
"Wha..." He started to ask again as the vixen opened her mouth a little to bite into his neck. Then Marc saw what was coming. He fought to break the hold on him.
Can't... Move... He thought, the fear gripping him turning into panic. He felt her two fangs poke his neck...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 1:
Marc opened his eyes, breathing heavy, sitting upright. He appeared to be in some sort of hospital bed, though the room was really small to be an actual hospital, though not lacking any of the equipment. A red haze blurred his vision for a few moments until it dissipated. He blinked, and let his heart rate move down back to normal. He felt his chest for the bullet wounds, but there was just smooth fur there, nothing more.
Just a dream... He thought, and relaxed.
But as he sat back, he felt something around his neck. He quickly put a paw to it, and discovered a bandage wrapped around his neck. Before he could rationalize whatever had happened, the sound of footsteps down the hall could be heard. The timed rhythm seemed to be the only sound in the world as Marc sat and waited for whoever it was to enter. Another black fox, a middle-aged yet still fit male in a sort of casual business outfit stopped at the door leading to the infirmary, looking towards Marc.
"Ah, good. You're up. I trust you had a peaceful rest?" The black fox said, stepping forth to stand beside the bed Marc was sitting on. The younger fox had an obvious apprehension for theblack fox, eyeing him warily from his bed. "Where am I?" He asked simply.
The black fox laughed once, then quieted himself, bowing slightly as he answered the apparent patient in the hospital, "I do apologize if my manners are a bit lax these days. I am Mr. Anderson, and you are inside my humble estate. If there is anything you require, do not hesitate to ask."
"Uh-huh..." Marc replied, thinking, Humble estate? I don't think so... "Um, how did I get here?" He asked
