Knife in the Back//The Wren//Open for apps! PM to Tundra

[Tordier]

Banshee
Kinta McGregor
She was so focused on the moment that it took the clank of some hunk of metal being dropped a distance away to get her to notice the arrival of some strange man. He did not look familiar to her, personally, but it seemed both Ty and Shay recognized him. However, that was hardly as interesting as the idea of a fresh kill...
Shay had no objections. Spectacular! Now all she had to do was stay close and wait for the opportune moment to arrive. After briefly studying the prisoner's expression, Kinta was surprised to find that the expression was not one of terror as she had hoped. Rather, she picked up a certain... Depth to the prisoner's gaze. It was slightly un-nerving, not that the Banshee let it show. There was more to this whiny nobody, but as far as what that might be, Kinta had not a clue.
So, until she could puzzle out what was going on here, Kinta just tightened her grip on the prisoner's shoulder and dragged her a few feet from the bus where they would be out of the way. No doubt Ty was going to be very busy with that. She had no idea how he was supposed to get those scraps running again, but she had never been the 'techie' sort and so did not understand such things very well.
As soon as she heard that terrible-sounding sputtering of an engine, Kinta knew it was time to go. That was good. There were far too many people around. She needed to get to wherever they were headed and then sneak away somehow... Just out of sight...
Kinta roughly steered the prisoner onto the bus and plopped her down in one of the seats. Then, she sat delicately right beside her victim and considered pulling out a knife to give her prey a few shallow cuts while no one was looking.



The Rogue
Cass
The silent blurr drew a few steps closer, intensely interested by the arrival of the man who was so obviously tied up in the same situation as the rest of the team. His hand drew closer to large, sturdy-looking knife in his belt. It was not Cass' first choice of weaponry for this situation, and he honestly had no intention of actually attacking. The action was more a combination of instinctual suspicion and comfort. He was incredibly wary of that man, but not entirely sure why. It was as if seeing that face triggered a distant memory of a long-forgotten dream and it irritated the Rogue that he could not properly recall it.
After a short while, it seemed that there was no apparently danger, and Cass' heart left at the sound of the engine, sad as it was in such a state of disrepair. He cast a quick glance at Surreal to be sure she was quite well, and then stepped a little bit closer. Now that the bus was working, it was only a matter of moments before the group would be moving again. Silently, the blurr strode over and climbed into the bus. When he came to the back, she stopped and sat slowly, knowing full well that the action of sitting would upset Surreal's balance. The rogue had a feeling one of her wings needed looking at, though he was not sure. Until then, it would be best to minimize the flapping about that she would have to do in order to keep from falling off of his shoulder.
Once he was nicely settled, Cass busied himself taking a mental inventory of everyone around and trying to decide exactly how best to make himself useful, either by doing something or just staying out of the way.

[Mystic]

||Surreal||

Unease swept over the scene before them as a new figure appeared from pure mist. The foggy air parted to make way for a very formal looking man, sauntering along as if he hadn't just intruded on a catastrophe. If Surreal had of been human that moment, she was sure the back of her neck would have prickled from the mere sight of him. The way he carried himself.. even the most idiotic of humans would know that he was dangerous.

Surreal wasn't one to show weakness.. most of the time, but she couldn't help but stir atop Cass's shoulder as the man approached the bus, therefore getting closer to them. Yes, it was known that Surreal could be very distrusting, and that she could instantly dislike someone once they made their first impression, but she didn't know what to make of him. He looked dangerous enough to be an enemy, that's why she was so on edge. And the way he was walking, with such swiftness, wasn't helping her opinion of him. But as he stopped before Ty, he seemed to greet the giant with a some kind of affection.

As Ty stuttered and tripped on his words, Surreal couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Oh, how scared he looked, and how clumsy he was with his tongue was mentally making her cringe. But as he uttered that one word, she just went blank. Father? Really? Well.. she could honestly say she wasn't expecting that. From what she could see, it was obvious they hadn't talked to each other for a while. Well, from what she was getting from Ty anyway. The mystery man seemed comfortable.

Shay, acting as level headed and unfazed as usual, spoke to her son as if her former lover wasn't there at all. Was that guy even her former lover? Could they still be.. together? Possibly. But it wasn't Surreal's business to know, so she kept her mind at bay. It was hard, though. Sometimes Surreal's imagination could get the better of her, and her mind would just wander. Did Shay still feel anything towards this man? From the way she was acting, it didn't seem so. But she was good at concealing emotions, so it was hard to tell.

Suddenly, Surreal felt herself slightly jerk at the movement of Cass. Her wings started to jut out, in case he wasn't careful enough and she nearly fell. But she had no need for it. It was obvious he was trying his best not to jolt her around too much, and somehow, she was okay with this. Her wing was injured after all.

As they sat in the back, Surreal readied herself for a long, bumpy ride to their next destination. Though she was still uneasy about that winged creature, and the man who's name she had found to be Vladimir, she closed her stormy grey eyes, lowered herself, and rested atop Cass's shoulder.

[blue_dun]

"Joel! Don't leave me here! I want to come with you. JOEL!!"
Joel shook his head. How in the h*ll had he fallen asleep in the middle of all this?! But he had. And he had dreamed about her... Her... The one that got away.
Then he realized that he was laying on the floor on the bus, on his side. This must only mean one thing: that Ty was alive and he had flipped the bus over himself. This also led to another supposition: they were going somewhere.
Wearily stretching with his one good arm, Joel went over to a seat and lounged in it. He had already made up his mind that he would go where the Wren was this time, but then he would steal away to her. She would know how to fix him up. He would hold her at gunpoint if he had to.
He touched Rift, andwas comforted again. There was another girl across from him, but he paid her no heed.

[Tundra]

^^^^^^
||||||
Bumps!

[Derelict Draught]

((Disclaimer: The viewpoint expressed below is not intended to offend anyone. There is no actual commentary on any practiced religions. This is the viewpoint of the character and intended as nothing more than motive for the characters actions.))

Screaming.
Crying.
All around the dying.
Here the world lays bare. Humanity stripped of glory.
Humility for a race obsessed with the sound of its own heartbeat.
Here they are brought to their knees.
Mortality brings peace and strife alike.
Here though, here one escapes.


He watched the world for centuries. The people flaunting and maiming their way towards renown. The way humanity prized its own filth, dawning elaborate garbs of decreasing value. They were trash. No better than the lowliest of scavengers. They scuttled about wasting their time and promise on minuscule squabbles and pointless desires.

Disgusting.

Even their gods failed to impress, each more opaque and luxurious than the last. Even his own seemed to lose clarity as the ages dragged on. What great entity would condone such a world? A crucible of sinners? Perhaps the world had fallen to the darker gods, those who appeared to relish in the misery.

Faith, the last shimmering hope of a decaying race, grew more hopeless by the decade.

Now. Now he would change things. Unveil the absurdity of their reality to all. Soon his influence would spread, his numbers finally rising to a number strong enough to overwhelm what few members of the Knight Templar remained. Soon...Soon his blessing would permeate the globe.

Now though...No he needed to collect the source of his fate.

The armored figure rose from his seat. The girl, Bree, had fled. Initially he'd payed no mind to the girl's full identity settling for the mere possibility that she carried the bloodline within her. He'd been wrong however, nothing grew within her womb. Another existed then. She could lead him to the one...or provide the dwindled resources of the Wren to his search.

A shrill whistle broke from the figure's helm, piercing stone as though there were no more than air before it. The whistle flooded the cave and compound alike, alerting the men above and stabbing at any who dared to possess magics within his domain. The interlopers wouldn't get far, his traps would see to that, if his men didn't beat them.

-----------------------

Malberry stared at the girl blankly. In the dim light, he could only make out a few vague features of the girl. She seemed familiar however he couldn't place a name to her. That couldn't be good then. He never forgot a face, nor a name.

Slowly he took up step behind her, his expression conveying his uncertainty.

What was he doing? Find a strange girl hanging upside down in the dark and his first instinct was to help her. For all he knew she might have been boobytrapped. Whatever strung her up could have been lying in wait. Theres still a chance for an ambush. She might well be a trap set for anyone foolish enough to wander too close.

The possibilities swam about his mind as he followed. Who was she? Why did he feel like he could trust her? Finally he stopped. He needed answers and until he got them following would be the greatest folly he could muster.

"Wh-"

His words were interrupted, then his thoughts and then his body.

Every muscle within him convulsed. His blood turned to daggers as his heart pumped, slowly tearing at every fiber of his being. His vision went dark yet he remained aware. A rich iron taste filled his mouth as his body revolted against himself. His skin grew cold, his sinus ran freely and then it was over. A soft ringing within his ears and a puddle of bile the only remnant of the attack.

"Who the bloody ell are you and what madness is this!"

---------------

(Now the long one)

Jessica allowed the Butcher to force her about. Struggling at this point would only cause problems, her best interest remained silence. Let the girl think she had control. So she sat, her eyes centered on the back of the seat before her. Waiting.

[Tundra]

Kuar watched absently what Vlad was doing, curious why the man decided to show up now of all times. His tail flicked in both frustration, curiosity and caution. He knew Vlad was a friend of Shays, but he couldn't help but feel his presence there wasn't welcome. A small but of mist flowed from his eyes, but his control of his feral side had improved greatly since Shay and him had last known each other. He was pissed off that he could really d nothing to ease Shay's worry, to ease that sense of pain. Turning his back to bot Shay and Vlad he walked cautiously through the park clearing any sighs that any of the members had been there. Blood was a problem, but overall he was able to get most of the stuff either destroyed or returned to their owners.

After cooling down from this he made his way back to the bus, walking around it examining the damage of the outside himself. The tail likes were broken and blown, every window seemed to be broken, scratches and dents galore, he would be surprised if Shay could really hide it when it was this extensive. Then again she could practically trick him if he didn't know her so well. Running his claws lightly along the side he walked past Vlad his tail coming close to cutting the man as he walked onto the bus. It wasn't any better inside really, but at least he could get the glass out. Moving seat to seat, really ignoring those who were there, or passed out. Eventually what needed to be cleared was out and he sat down near back, not near anyone, but still closer to the back then the front. He during this time stayed out of Ty and anyone's ways. He didn't want to snap at anyone, and his grip on Dovah(lol so just realized i have been playing Skyrim to much....) weakened as time went by.

Dovah was what he had come to call the feral state of his mind, his ancestors had one hell of an anger. Kuar over time had managed to gain control on his kinds natural rage, anger, and hatred of the world. It helped him live, blend in, but there were times when it just broke free, especially when Kuar was injured. Speaking of which, Kuar ran his claws lightly over the wound on his wing, and the stab wound he had in his side. He had been lucky really, the stab being close to piercing his lung. Everything seemed to still be in place. Maybe he would talk with Shay later, maybe. He figured that Vlad fellow would want to speak with her first, he seemed o so intent on it.

---

Twisted Fate stared into the distance, his hands shoved into has jackets pockets as he stared into nothingness. He closed his eyes and sighed, lowering his head slightly. He was, bothered really, normally he wasn't really bothered by anything. But lately, he had this feeling of unease, of confusion. He ran his fingers lightly through his deck of cards, thumbing and counting each card. He had counted each card over and over again, it really still hung on him that three were still missing. Usually they returned, filtered into the deck as if they never left. Twisted figured it had to do something with that undead creature he had kept from killing off the rest of the Wren members. This somewhat was what had gotten him involved in Shays whole deal. He still kept his distance, especially after the whole explosion. Tight spaces weren't his thing, a bus certainly fell into that category. Shifting his weight he looked over at what was going on with the bus. They seemed to be fixing it up, making sure everything was in working order. He would maybe talk more with Shay on what was going to go on after they settled in more. He took a look back in the distance before turning to help with getting things set up and going.

[Tundra]

^^^^^^
||||||
Bumps!

[Verdana]

[[Time skip to new base tomorrow.]]

[Pandle]

Sorry, i got logged out and was stupid enough to forget my login details xD but back now, i'll post.

[Pandle]

Vlad //

The last time he achknowledged his offspring it was to condem It to a rather gritty ending.
Unfortunatly It survived and has proved to be a pain in the preverbial arse ever since.

He stands rigid, back poised on an invisable stretcher to hold him thus, his eyes unwavering from the mop of thick hair, messy and unkept, on the chisled skull of his eldest child. The boy is not much of that anymore, more appropiatly he is a man, old enough to spawn his own children. His salute is humoured by Vlad's own uncertanty, he has slaves and minions to deal with children, they are below his understanding. But mostly he is distracted by Her.
He catches sight of her perfect sillouhette from the corner of his rotating lanterns; she is just a shadow illuminated by the burning fires of the wreckage.

Earth. Always so full of chaos and noise. How he had not missed the place.

"Son," Vlad mummers, equaly as uncomfortable with the word as he is with being implaed on silver stakes. "you are not infertile." The humour in his voice is absent, instead the strict, warning words fill the air between the family members with a sharp edge. Shay arrives, and soon there is no time to leave any more private matters, he lets them slip away down the road into the drainage system. He once met a Marshwiggle down the sewers, a charming fellow named Puddleglum, but that was a long story and there was no one to listen.
There was a time when Shay would listen, her ears, pointed and elongated at their tips, slightly rounded lobes, joined -not that he studied her ears every night- very slightly. They suited mother-of-perl earings. He still had them in his pocket, he could feel their weighted pressence against his leg even now. He'd given them to her at the ballroom dance to celebrate Motzart's sixteenth birthday, it was in Vienna.

It was also where Erzebet Bathory had been lurking. The begining of a long disaster that was to mark the midpoint of an unoffical divorce, the death of two men, the conversion to werewolf blood and the spilling of a carton of full-fat milk.

It is no suprise to Vlad that she cannot draw her gaze to him. She was selfish, she ran away from him, made terrible choiced that threatened not only herself but Ty as well and disregarded the Throne that he had reared her for taking. He has forgiven her that though, she shouldn't be so hard on herself, he fancies, perhaps he will tell her that he forgives her. Maybe then they can rekindle their romance and he can, will, wisk her away to Valgaderion where the planet is no longer desolate but the remakable chalice of an Empire so broad it now verges on rivaling the Butterfly's herself! He would restrain himself from over-taking the boundry line if she ruled, but she does not. Like many other things she abandoned it. Like she abandoned him.

Finaly her face turns, still a perfect sloped nose, a slightly pointed chin not hazed and blurred by the beginning of wrinkles. Her brow is melted from the wax, deep valleys of thinking marks lining the space between her eyes and her hair line. But Vlad can see past these inperfections to the youthful, loving, laughing child he loved.
"Must you always assume I am after something from you?" His lips part wearily as a sturdy man slides past, its strange limb protruding from its behind close to making contact with Vlad's own leg. He hops aside, narrowly avoiding the collision. Urg. Half-breeds.
"Perhaps I came to be of comfort to you, to assist in the rearing of our magnificant...son..." He did not. Of course he did not. He came for advise. He has his own son now, Icarus Bluff. And there is a terrible secret about the boy, formed in the spillage of the dropped full-fat milk. Vlad can hardly bare to achknowledge the problem, but it has grown to large to ignore now.
"Do you remember, when we were in love?" He turns to stand beside her and takes her arm gently, he straightens her hunched form and listenes to the cracking of bones as they ammend themselves in her chest. His fingers dance woozily around her cheekbones, so defined and purposeful. He admires her. "The stories by my fire. The sarcophocus. I can recall one time you know," he steps forward, gingerly leading her by the arm as he did at the ballroom dance, he leads her away from the bus, to an open space free of rubble, "when we danced on the embers of the new born star," his left hand slides down to her waste, her broad square-tipped fingers taking a hold of her hip while his right hand lifts with hers. He begins to rock their bodies to a slow waltz, his feet keeping to the timing perfectly.
"We watched a universe be born while we danced on its sun. Do you remember Shaygrin? How you laughed and we swayed in time to your violin? And the universe rang with your laughter, it still does you know. They call it the Nyah."
His eyes beseech into hers. His thinned lips ringing with an ancient longing, a hurting as old as life itself.
"I've missed you."