Is there such thing as fate?

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ZuljinVernand
 

Is there such thing as fate?

Unread postby ZuljinVernand » Wed Jan 08, 2003 7:41 am

{OOC: Okay... I'd like to make this blindly obvious fact aware of people. I am new here but I am in no way, shape, or form, new to roleplaying.
If I'm doing something wrong, posting on the wrong board, or whatever... Just tell me. Sensibly, please. I don't get into hissy fits. I just like to write and I whether people read my rp's or not is irrelevent to me.
All I ask is that if you do happen to read, you do happen to enjoy and you do happen to want me to continue as much as possible, know that I am only doing this as a diversion to my mainstream place of RP'ing.
Feel free to join if you want... Just don't expect miracles.}

It was a tavern in the deepermost part of the city. It was a place where people didn't need to bother about the names of towns, or any other place of geography. Mainly because most of the people were aimless travellers. Not warriors or adventurers. Just ordinary travellers that scowered the world over for a place to call home. It was also place where people came to lose themselves in alcohol and the strange attraction of being social.
Not that anyone was particularly social here. They stayed seated alone, staring into their drink and not saying a word. Occasionally, you might see someone walk through a door and if you looked across the bar, you might see someone give an indifferent nod towards them.
To put it bluntly, this is where social activities came to die.

The torchlight flickered in the air as the discreet wooden door opened and a figure stepped in. It removed it's cloak and shook the sparse raindrops from it. In the light, you could see that the figure was a man. Not particularly strong or charismatic. Truthfully, he looked a lot more like an accountant than he did being someone interesting.
The man walked over to a bar, had a brief exchange of words with the barkeep and then slid into a nearby booth while nursing a mug in his hands.

Who are you...?
I don't know. I think my name is Agress.

Away from all the others, a young man suddenly hunched his shoulders and stared vigilantly into his drink.
It was a short stud glass half filled with ice and had the dregs of a bourbon collecting with the waters of melting ice.
He stared into it as if it was a well of knowledge. Perhaps it was.

Why are you here...?
I don't know... I don't even know where "here" is.

This young man was dressed more extravagantly than the others. If this was a different type of place, the others would be whispering the word "Poser" in hushed dark corners.

...Do you believe in fate?
No. I am above fate.

The young man closed his eyes slowly and started to whisper soundlessly to himself. His red bandana slipped slowly over one eye and his body seemed to slump slightly, losing all of its attentiveness.

Fate believes in you.

The young mans eye's opened and he pushed his bandana back to his forehead to come back into the world of depth perception.
He stood up quietly and, as if talking to himself, spoke in a loud voice.
'I'm not playing these games. All I want to do is go home. I want to go back to the comfort of my theatre. I want to go back to the warm glow of my friends. I want to go back... I don't like it here. Things around me don't play by my rules.'

The clientel of the tavern looked up in suprise. It was an unspoken word agreement that no one talked about their personal lives. For that matter, it was an unspoken agreement that no one talked. Or if they needed to ask for a drink, did it quietly. They stared at him and, suprisingly enough, he noticed. He was writhing in their gaze.
'Ex-Excuse me.' He stuttered. His once proud stance and his once confident tone was now reduced to nothing. Maybe less than nothing.
He walked out of the tavern as if the legions of hell were upon him. From the look in his eyes, they very well might have been.

The rain beat heavily down on him as he walked onto the streets. He had run out of the money that those people had given him when he first came into this world.
It was their fault, now that he came to think of it. They were the reason he was in this predicament. As soon as they found that he wasn't the one, they cast him away like a useless peice of garbage.
Anger welled up in the very depths of his soul.
It was their fault.
His fists began to clench of their own accord.
It was their fault.
His eyes opened and closed as if he was in the clutches of a seizure. Each time their opened, the romantic deep blue eyes that he had were replaced with red burning fury.
It was their fault.
He stopped and his body turned, his left fist sped towards the brick wall to his side and slammed into it... and then there was the crackle of bone.
'AH! GODDAMN IT!' he yelled in pain.
His hand instinctively was pushed inbetween his legs. It was the sort of thing a child would do, in the hopes that it would relieve the pain. It wouldn't.
It was their fault.
He was so preoccupied by the pain in his hand, and the rage in his soul that he hardly noticed the silent noise of a blade being taken from its sheath.
Before he even knew it, he was pressed against the wall with a knife against his neck.

'Foreigners shouldn't wander too far into the city, friend.' The voice came. 'You're lucky that I am not a criminal like the others. My forte is in the sale of the flesh. Merely give me your wallet and I'll let you keep your life.'
The victim shuddered. The seedy tones of his assailant gave the same effect as fingernails down a chalkboard. His arms moved slowly up to his jacket and then stopped.
'How do I know you won't kill me anyway?' The young man asked.
'You don't know. You'll just have to trust fate. If you have more than five hundred in there, your fate will be strangely kind.'
The young man seemed to think about this for a second. He then took out his wallet and held it out. His assailant took it and opened his own jacket, placing it inside. As the attacker took his hands from his prey, the young man fell against him.
'S-sorry!' The young man stuttered.
'Get away from me!' The assailant yelled angrily.
The young man did so. Quickly. He didn't stop until he was safely three blocks away.
He reached into his jacket pockets and took out three wallets. He inspected them industrialously. They held quite a lot of cash, as well as one rather full one held the names and addresses of quite a few people. The names belonged to females. It must have been his attackers.
He put the wallets back into his pocket.
'Ah. At least this still works...' He thought triumphantly while half keeping a mind on what he should do with his newfound money.
His shoe nudged something on the ground. He looked down.
A small crumpled peice of parchment lay there. He picked it up and unravelled it. Spidery words read an address.
He shrugged and set off. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do...

After a while and a lot of directions, the street name and number loomed up in the distance. He was beginning to become unsure of himself. This didn't seem like his area. He saw the words "Painted Ladies" scribbled in grafiti on an alley wall, and he thought that meant that it was a place of actors. He was wrong. Very wrong. He didn't know it though and people say that ignorance is bliss, so he hardly hesitated to knock on the door hidden beneath a small alcove.
After a while a feminen voice spoke from behind the door while echoed footsteps showed that the speaker was coming down a staircase.
'I paid already Sydney... Now just leave me alone. I'm expecting a very important client to come in half an hour.'
A panel slid away from the door revealing a young woman's face.
'Oh. You're early. You must be Cydril. I'm sorry about that. Let me open the door.'
He stepped back as the door swung out, revealing scantily clad late teenager. His jaw dropped as he caught a glimpse of what she was wearing. As a moral reaction, he quickly pushed her inside and took off his jacket to cover her. She merely looked at him as if something was wrong.
'What's the matter? I was advised that this was to your tastes...' She said.
The man seemed to quickly come to a conclusion of what a painted lady was.
'How much were you offered?' He asked quickly.
'A week's wages but wh-' She replied before being cut off.
'I'll pay you double that if you let me take you out of here.'
'I was paid this morning but wh-'
'No more questions. Let's just get out of here.'
He reached to the side, grabbing a cloak from the corner of his eye and wrapped it around her. They left.

And hour later, he found himself watching her as she wolfed down a portion of pasta. They had found a cafe that was out of the rain. It wasn't far, but to the young man, it wasn't far enough.
She wasn't paying attention to him. She merely ate as if it was her first in a long time.
He looked at her face. It was one of the prettiest he had ever seen... and he had seen a few. He couldn't help but think that it was a bad stroke of luck that she fell into her profession.
'So what's your real name, Cydril?' She asked with a full mouth.
It took him off guard. She really was paying attention.
'Huh?' He managed.
'It's alright. Since your taking me out for dinner, I guess we are on a first name basis. Most of my clients don't use their real names. But... I'm curious. What's yours?'
'Mines... Well...'
'Don't be shy. I don't bite unless they want me to.'
'Agress. I think.'
'Agress... That's a nice name.'
'It means to always be on the agressive offense I think.'
'Does Agress have a last name?'
'Uhm. I don't know.'
'What do you mean you don't know?'
'I just... Don't know.'
'Alright... I get the picture. I won't ask anymore.'
'No! I mean... No. I want to tell you. I just don't know it.'
'Oh. Okay. My names Jone. Jone Vernand.'
'For some reason that sounds really familiar...'
'Jones a common name.'
'No... The other one. Vernand. Nevermind. It's probably nothing.'
'So what brings you to the city of LeCancia?'
'...If I told you, you wouldn't believe it.'
'This isn't pretend you know... I suppose it is in a way. Maybe this is how you get off. But please, if it is, I am only new at this and I don't appreciate being led along like this only to find out that you are just satisfying your own sexual desires.'
Agress closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten. Sometimes, people like this really annoyed him. Maybe it was the fact that they didn't understand, no matter how easy it seemed to him. Maybe it was because that people were too wrapped up in their own lives, that they were too busy to take any outside notice of anyone elses.
The count reached ten. He took a deep breath and took the not-so-subtle approach.
'Consider for a moment that I am not your client. Consider also for a moment that I do not know my last name. While you're at it, also consider that I am not sexually interested in you and that sex is the last thing I would ever ask of you. Consider that I merely paid you to take you away from your dreary existence in the hopes to save you the pain of having another man voilate you in the most intimate of ways. Now wrap that up in a little package of reality and that is what you are faced with!' He ended with a yell. This earned him nothing but a slap in the face.
'How dare you!' She screamed, getting up and storming off onto the street and out of his life.
Agress sighed and leant back in the chair he was seated in.
It happened again. He had only managed to keep two people in his life. All the others happened to walk in and out like actors on a stage. The fact that the two other people were actors wasn't a comforting thought.
He looked over on the table at the half eaten plate of pasta. A meal was a meal, and by his stomachs urgent requests for filling, he realised that he needed something to eat. It took him a few seconds to realise that the woman had pocketed the fork.
He was starting to catch the feintest glimpse of what this town truly was. He fully understood what this town was when the bill arrived for the meal.
----------------

There will always be more ninja. ^_~
- Zuljin.

Edited by: [url=http://pub30.ezboard.com/brpgww60462.showUserPublicProfile?gid=zuljinvernand>ZuljinVernand</A]&nbsp; Image at: 1/9/03 5:48:19 am

Banjooie
 
Posts: 900
Joined: Fri May 31, 2002 11:20 pm

Re: Is there such thing as fate?

Unread postby Banjooie » Wed Jan 08, 2003 9:40 pm

((o.o Just post on the OOC board so more people know about this. Furthermore, you are an intelligent new...<.< >.> nothingbie....and rock. o.o)


User avatar
pd Rydia
Moderator
 
Posts: 5269
Joined: Mon Apr 22, 2002 4:12 pm
Location: Temple of Fiends

Re: Is there such thing as fate?

Unread postby pd Rydia » Wed Jan 08, 2003 9:54 pm

(Just moving this to the correct forum.

Zuljin, you might want to fix your line break problem. When posting, paragraph indentations aren't translated well. Makes it hard to read.

Also, if you like to write, perhaps you would enjoy writing fanfictions? Just a suggestion based on your OOC notes.)


JoshuaDurron
 

Re: Is there such thing as fate?

Unread postby JoshuaDurron » Wed Jan 08, 2003 11:37 pm

((....
::in awe::
Wow. That was pretty darned good.))


ZuljinVernand
 

Re: Is there such thing as fate?

Unread postby ZuljinVernand » Thu Jan 09, 2003 5:03 am

{OOC: In the history of rp'ing forums, tradition begs me to reply.

Thanks Banjooie. I appreciate the comment. ^_^" I didn't think I'd slip into this forum this easily. @_@ It's crazy. These days its like a duck taking to water. Now replace that Duck with a guy that can't swim but can drink beer and replace the water with beer... and then I guess you have me. ^_^
But why would I bother posting on the board? Its not like many people are going to bother joining this. Of course, they are welcome to. But, to tell the truth... Out of experience, the more people that join an rp then the more it sucks because its too hard to trace which way every single character is going. Along with that, new idea's are great... but when too many new idea's are introduced it takes away from the rp. But then again... Some other people joining would be good.

pd Rydia. I can't say that I am too enthusiastic about the forum change. I read up on some of the Gaera stuff this morning and I planned to switch over to make it into a Gaera rp.
Although, thanks for reading it if you did. It's a good sign when a webmaster reads the rp of a newbie and tries to help them.
Not that I think I made any mistakes. People don't seem to have a long attention span and tend to get intimidated by something that seems too long and too involving. By breaking my rp up, it makes it seem easier to read. It's not a task to read through to the next section. Also... The way I do my paragraphs is that they change every time a new event or location changes.
About the FanFic's though... I have to say... I detest them horribly. Of course, a number of my characters and a number of some of my other stuff has been "borrowed" from other texts... But I am slowly getting away from that. They just help me along to make things easier these days. They aren't needed.
I thank you for your suggestion though. All comments and suggestions are taken onboard. The plain fact is, that I am trying to branch out into being a proffesional writer. This is just fun and experience rolled up into one. If I can write a novel based off what I have fun on, then all the better.

JoshuaDurron. ^_^ Thanks for the comment. Quite frankly, though, this is only the setting up of the peice. From here on out, you'll learn more, see more action, and (with any luck on my part) feel more emotions.
If you feel like joining. Do so.}
-----------
There will always be more ninja! ^_~
- Zuljin.


ZuljinVernand
 

Re: Is there such thing as fate?

Unread postby ZuljinVernand » Thu Jan 09, 2003 8:20 am

LeCancia was a city in which the unwary traveller was chewed up... and spat out. It was a city in which a small portion of tourists died each day... but their bodies never found. It was a city in which a person, totally aware of the contents of this location, could indulge themselves in the pleasures of the body and the mind. If someone said it was a tourist trap, they would have to be speaking literally. This city was made of sin. It was like the foundations were built from the promises on the lips of a demon. Every now and then, an innocent fell into its gaping maw.

'WHAT DO YOU MEAN I OWE YOU 1000 CREDITS!' Agress screamed as the waiter laid down the bill on the table.
The population of the restaraunt turned to look at him as if he was saying something out of place.
'I will have to ask you for your money now sir, and I will have to ask you to lower your voice or leave. You are disturbing our patrons.' The waiter spoke nochalantly.
Agress turned to look in his jacket. During the walk to the cafe with Jone, he had transferred the total sum of his money into his top jacket pocket.
He reached into it and took out a wad of parchment with symbols covering it. He placed it on the edge of the table and stood up to walk primly out of the restaraunt.
His head lowered again and his shoulders began to hunch in a way that raised his collar up so that it removed the option for rain to slip down the back of his jacket.
'Well... Easy come... Easy go...' He thought sadly. '...Now what do I do?'

The thought of going back to where this all started was becoming apparently unavoidable... However much he might have wanted to avoid it. And the gods knew that he did. When he had first opened his eyes in that small, dark room it scared him within an inch of insanity. The shadows. He'd never forget the shadows. That vision would haunt him until the day he would die. The way they weren't cast by anything in the room... The way they seemed just like a pool of darkness ready to suck him through the floor...

He walked down a narrow alley, in the direction of the establishment where this misadventure had started. After a few minutes of walking, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. He didn't know it but someone was... And they were looking for revenge.

This was the Temple of Small Gods. It was named this because it was the place where the despots, desperates, and underdogs of society went in times of trial and tribulation to try and barter their way into a pleasant form of afterlife. It was also because that it was all they could afford. The richer people in town could afford to donate enough money for each main deity to have their own building of worship.
A small building for small Gods.
The building had been there as far back as people could remember it. Over the vast number of years that this place of worship had been about, certain supernatural entities had clawed their way into a God like profile and gained small legions of followers. They weren't really Gods. They were more like Demi-Gods or Quasi-Gods. The real gods of the land never really bothered with them. They weren't worth it. It would be like smiting something insignificant and the energy expenditure from such an action would be a complete waste of time. So these false gods were allowed to rule their petty number of little followers and bask in the light of partial glory. Most of these False Gods choose professions to watch over and bless. It was a simple matter of supply and demand.
However, the temple was also a place that new religions started. Cults met to praise certain objects, animals, thoughts, and beings created out of their wildest imaginations. This being said, it was pretty clear that a good number of the minor priests and clerics of the temples were outright insane.
Which was why Agress was trying to avoid all of the fanatics handing out informational scrolls about their deity of choice, who just happened to be either foaming at the mouth, dribbling, or mumbling to themselves. It didn't help that this meant he had to avoid them all.

By the time he reached the entrance of the small Temple, his hands were full of parchment and his mind begging for absolution from a return trip through that insane lot.
Strangely enough, when he tried to find somewhere discreet to dump the mass of parchment he found a small bin with the words "Please rid of your refuse responsibly. The Goddess of tree's, Elkana, thanks you for it".
He shrugged and let his burden fall into the recepticle. It wasn't really the time to worry about where to dump a pile of rubbish, but this place wasn't familiar to him and tree's had never done anything to anger him before, so he reasoned that he shouldn't anger them either.
A finger tapped him on the shoulder.
'Hello. Would you be here to praise the great God Alkenith, the god of unseasonal rain?' A voice came from behind him.
Agress turned around to find a small and pathetic, yet hopelessly persistent, cleric in a black robe looking up at him.
'Er. No.' Agress replied, his eyes looking away frantically for a way of escape. Meanwhile, the cleric removed a small braclet and hung a string necklace over his head. However much you may have tried to look at the man as a normal human being, the small live rabbit hanging from a leg by it was fairly offputting. Currently it was trying to kick out of the loop holding its foot.
'Then you must be here to join my ceremony to hold the great goddess of pointless jewellery, Vanatia, up on high?' The, now that Agress looked carefully at the mans hair, balding cleric asked hopefully.
'No... I don't see why I would be doing that at all. Jewelery, however pointless, has never been my kind of thing.' Agress said, trying to let him down kindly. As he spoke, the cleric grinned conspiritorily and pulled down on Agress's shirt to bring his ear down to his mouth level.
'Ah... I understand. Don't worry. I'm not here to do any of those things either.'
He released his grip on Agress's shirt enough to let Agress turn his head to see the conspirital waggle of the balding mans eyebrows.
'Uh. What were you talking to me about all that for then?'
'I'm undercover!' The cleric snickered. Agress decided that the not-so-subtle approach was best for this line of conversation.
'Look. What is the quickest possible way I can end this line of conversation, so I can find out what you want me to do so I can do it, which will get you out of my life and hopefully never speak to you again?' Agress said calmly. This approach had gotten rid of the girl, so it suprised Agress that the priest did not so much as take it as an insult as he took it into his stride.
'Ha ha! A smart boy! Not many people are ready to question the reality infront of them so much that they get to the point that they become impatient with ruses which, because of their special gift, seem obviously obvious!' The balding cleric cackled. Now that Agress came to look at him a little more, he seemed really old. As well as possibly criminally insane.
'Uh. Good. I think. Uhm. I think I need to go somewhere else now. Bye.' Agress said as he turned quickly on his heel and walked away. He kept his head forward and refrained from looking behind him, just in case the old balding cleric was still following him.
Unfortunately the cleric was following him, and did catch up to him. Agress was spun back around as a suprisingly strong grip held his right wrist.
'Hey! Let go of me old man! Leave me alone!' Agress yelled angrily. This man was really starting to get on his nerves.
The man grinned and pushed a small box into Agress's hand.
'Open this when you have a moment alone.' The man said.
Agress stuffed the small box, only big enough to fit in the palm of his hand, into his pocket and then pushed the old man out of the way.
As he walked away Agress started to mumble to himself.
'Stupid old man... Why is everyone in this city trying to either rob me, use me, or melt my brains with their insanity?'
----------------

There will always be more ninja! ^_~
- Zuljin.

Edited by: [url=http://pub30.ezboard.com/brpgww60462.showUserPublicProfile?gid=zuljinvernand>ZuljinVernand</A]&nbsp; Image at: 1/10/03 4:45:08 am

Elementalist Daien
 

Re: Is there such thing as fate?

Unread postby Elementalist Daien » Thu Jan 09, 2003 11:07 am

(OOC: No, no, no. That's for BAD RP ideas, or those which have not been properly thought out. Now, now. That's not quite the case here.

Now I suggest that we take whatever comments to the OOC thread. Also: I'm thinking about joining. And I know others will. WON'T YOU? *rawrs*)


JoshuaDurron
 

Re: Is there such thing as fate?

Unread postby JoshuaDurron » Thu Jan 09, 2003 12:27 pm

((EDIT: o.o Just noticed the OOC thread on the OOC forum. Scratch the post that was previously here. Gomen.))

Edited by: [url=http://pub30.ezboard.com/brpgww60462.showUserPublicProfile?gid=joshuadurron>JoshuaDurron</A] at: 1/9/03 11:30:45 am

ZuljinVernand
 

Re: Is there such thing as fate?

Unread postby ZuljinVernand » Mon Jan 13, 2003 2:23 am

It was quite in the small apartment. The day just hadn't been slow, it had been dead. Maybe it was the rain that was keeping the clientel away. Or maybe it was because she was out so long that the word had spread around that she was out.

She would have liked to say that it didn't matter. She would have liked even more to say that she didn't need the money. The problem was, that she did. Badly. If she didn't get enough money for the payment, well then... Well... Something bad would happen to her. It wasn't the first time she had skipped one either.

Her head turned slowly to look at the rain battering down on the window pane of her erotically decorated apartment. She never got the money from that freak of a man that first called himself Cydril and then Agress. Honestly, what type of person hired a... girl of negotiable affection... to have... indecent relations... with and then just take her out for something to eat? It was like the guy was trying to tease her, and that was something she didn't stand for. She had enough worries without needing to be teased.

A knock came from the door downstairs, shaking Jone from her temporary line of thought. She stood up, taking off the cloak she had worn since she left the cafe, and then walked down the narrow staircase that led down to the street entrance to her small apartment. Her hand gripped the small handle that opened the slide in the woodwork which let her see at her client before they came in. She pulled it across and gasped as a dirty hand shot through the opening, grabbing her neck.
'Open the door and I'll let go...' A raspy voice came from the other side of the door.
She fumbled at the locks on her side of the door and turned the handle, the door opening slightly inwards. The hand withdrew and then the door kicked backwards into her, sending her sprawling backwards onto the stairs behind her. Her mouth opened and shut as she sought for words as her pimp, Sydney, walked inside. Needless to say, Sydney being a man of business, went straight to the point.
'Where was that kid that was here earlier!' He shouted, picking her up by the thin stands of clothing and pulling her so close up against him that she could almost taste the foul stench of his breath.
'I-I... d-don't... kn-know...' Jone managed.
She felt the biting sting of the back of a hand slap across her face, bringing her back down to the staircase. Sydney leered over her with a malicious grin planted on his scarred face.
'That little punk stole from me... and you, Jone, are going to help me get that little punk back...' Sydney spoke as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up the staircase.

Screams could be heard from the still open door of the small apartment. No one did anything though, for this was the city of LeCancia and for the woman named Jone... This was hell.
--------------------

Today's episode was brought to you today from the kind people at Meaty Chunks (TM) and MASS WEAPONS OF DISTRUCTION INCORPERATED. Also brought to you to day by the letters, "T" "Q" "G" but not "D".

-The being that needs no pronoun! ^_^





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