( ✧ ━ the house )

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Ｎ
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the ghost town of almwick has been abandoned for decades. there are barely a
ny remnants of those who had been resident, and only one legend of the town r
emains - the story of the wordsworth house. the old, victorian-style home sits
on the the crest of a steep hill that lets out over dryden fell, and is rumored t
o be haunted by fierce, malevolent ghosts. no one has ever dared enter, but th
at is about to change. six ghost hunters from all walks of life decide to team
up and take down the apparitions. however, after arriving & getting trapped i
nside the house, things become more complicated. these aren't just ghosts, t
hey are ghosts of the hunters' loved ones. now, they must decide - stay in the
house for the rest of their lives, or destroy what remains of those they love.
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it's been so long . . . where have you been? i've missed you, so much ━
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＆ ＲＥＧＳ！！！

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──────────────────────
you musn't leave this place. never, never!
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[ one ] follow cs rules [ two ] be active!
[ three ] reserve before posting [ four ]
forms/ooc on disc thread [ five ] realisti
c fcs only [ six ] diversity encouraged [ s
even ] one character p player [ eight ] t
his is semi-lit; 250+ words [ nine ] hunter
& ghost relationships will be assigned, but
this doesn't mean there can't be est relati
onships or new ones! [ ten ] have fun; dra
ma encouraged, & be kind to other rp'ers!

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Ｐ ＬＥＡＳＥ， ＨＥＬＰ， ＯＨ ＧＯＤ ＨＥＬＰ ＵＳ

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we didn't deserve this. why did it happen to us?
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the hunters are trapped inside by the will of the ghosts.
they each have a weapon of choice & main trait, chos
en by you. be realistic, but feel free to be original! age
range is 17-25. the loved ones will be assigned random
ly, and will also be randomly assigned platonic (friends,
qprs), romantic (bf/gf/df), or familial (sibling).
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ＳＹ Ｋ Ｏ Ｔ ＩＸ

weapon sniper riflexxxxxxxxtrait fearless
loved one ramseyxxxxxxxxxxuser havoc

ＬxxＯixＧxxＡxＮ

weapon twin pistolsxxxxxxxxtrait spacey
loved one ludwigxxxxxxxxxxuser maow

ＡxxxＬxxiＥxxxＸ

weapon clip point knifexxtrait headstrong
loved one romanxxxxxxxxuser O0

Ｃ Ａ Ｓ ＰＩＡ Ｎ

weapon throwing knivesxxxxxtrait lenient
loved one sawyerxxxxxxxxxxxuser aller

ＫxＳxＥ ＮxＹ Ａ

weapon crossbowxxxxxxtrait determined
loved one cadocxxxxxxxuser fair

Ｉ Ｎ ＤＩＡ Ｎ Ａ

weapon machetexxxxxitrait untrusting
loved one clementxxxxxuser jareau

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Ｐ ＬＥＡＳＥ， ＨＥＬＰ， ＯＨ ＧＯＤ ＨＥＬＰ ＵＳ

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we need you here. you have to stay. please . . .?
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the ghosts are trapped inside due to a curse on the hou
se. they will each have a power they cannot control,
and a main trait. the age range is 14-25. hunters will b
e assigned randomly, and will also be randomly assigned
platonic (friends, qprs), romantic (bf/gf/df), or famil
ial (sibling).
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Ｓx Ａ Ｗ Ｙ ＥxＲ

power thermokinesisxxxxxxxxtrait puckish
hunter caspianxxxxxxxxxxxxxuser day

Ｒ xＯx Ｍ xＡx Ｎ

power electrokinesisxxxxxxtrait stubborn
hunter alexxxxxxxxxxixxxxuser meow

Ｌ ＵxＤxＷxＩ Ｇ

power vitrikinesisxxxxxxxxxxtrait acute
hunter loganxxxxxxxxixxxxxxuser unshiu

Ｃ Ｌ ＥＭ ＥＮ Ｔ

power psionic blastsxxxxxxtrait apathetic
hunter indianaxxxixxxxxxxuser killjoy

ＣixＡxxＤxxＯxＣ

power ferrokinesisxxxxxxxxxtrait volatile
hunter ksenyaxxxxxxxxxxxxxuser gray

ＲxＡxＭ Ｓ ＥxＹ

power audiokinesisxxxxxxxtrait guarded
hunter sykotixxxxxxxxxxxxuser pitch

[pdf]

_______________________

disc thread

[pdf]

ＳＡＷＹＥＲ
i know, he knows, that he's killing me for mercy
─

It seemed as if Almwick was in a state of perpetual darkness; if Sawyer had not already lost his concept of time, this would've only furthered its deterioration. He had nearly given up on desperately attempting to tell the hour, via shattered clocks and the position of the 'sun' in the sky, which could never be seen beyond the thick, grey clouds over the town. After all, time was nothing more than a construct of the living, and one entrapped in endlessness has no need to count minutes. He can't waste them, after all. Still, he clung to whatever bits of life he could; it had only been a year, and Sawyer still wasn't ready to die. He'd spent two weeks attempt to digest anything, but nothing would go down, no matter how hard he swallowed.

The window beside him was open, but the muggy air refused to penetrate the icy air in the room. Realizing how tense he was, Sawyer took a deep breath, shaking his head. The air started to warm again, but his fingers and toes still felt frigid. He stood, quickly, pacing for a moment and attempting to distract himself. He made his way out of the room, sticking his head out first. Curse this house for being so . . . big.

"Guys?" he called out into the hall just outside of the room. He was upstairs; he found the downstairs . . . creepier. The two huge, double doors were almost taunting, and it was as if being closer to the exit put him more on edge. He moved to the railing of the stairs, keeping an eye out for any of the other ghosts. That was the trouble with being here - seeing any of the other ghosts was sometimes like, well, looking for ghosts.

He then heard a loud, echoing bang; as if doors were slamming shut. That was odd - no one ever entered, they knew the consequences. He furrowed his brow, glancing down the staircase, though he didn't have a proper view of the foyer. This sort of thing didn't happen here; days were supposed to melt into each other, lose meaning. He felt the hair raising on his skin; something was definitely happening. Something like excitement rose up in his veins, and he felt a grin growing on his face. God, finally something was happening here. He knew they had the potential of catching hunters, but, jeez, he'd never expected it to happen.

[imakilljoywannabe]

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Clement Lyndon Wester
19 • Apathy • Drowned • Hunter: Indiana • Tagged: Open

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Clement could feel it in the air. Something wasn’t right. His eyes opened, the darkness giving way to a dirty cream ceiling. Clement shifted, glancing towards the rotting doorway to see if anyone else had noticed the change in the ancient house’s air. Nothing greeted him other than the usual creaking sounds, but Clement couldn’t shake the unease he felt. After living here for nearly four years, Clement wasn’t inclined to having things change. True, an occasional new ghost popped up, but this kind of shift wasn’t the same as that. It was more foreign, and even less welcome. For a moment there was silence, a rarity in such an old building, before there was a sharp, loud creak; a sound the house and ghosts within were incapable of causing. Clement sat up, pushing himself off his uncomfortable mattress. He had never needed to sleep since he’d come here, being dead and all, but he liked the solitude having his own “bedroom” provided.

A loud slamming echoed through the empty hallways, and Clement moved with a bit more urgency. He had to know what was intruding on his home. No, not home. Home is comfortable, warm, and welcoming. This place was cold and musty. This house was a prison. A prison he, like all the other ghosts, was trapped in. Clement phased through the walls, knowing the rooms through which he would be moving had been vacant for the entire time he’d resided here. He came to a stop just before the final wall, choosing instead to peer around a corner. If it was something that could harm him, or maybe Roman, he’d rather be out of the line of fire. Clement wasn’t at all prepared for what he saw. Are those… humans?

His originally sluggish mind was now racing, trying to figure out three things. One, how anyone could be stupid enough to come inside this house and make such a racket entering. Two, who they were. And three, which was probably the most important, What do they want? His third question, and a little bit of his second, were answered by the glint of steel from their hands and belts. Hunters. Clement glanced around, looking to see if the other ghosts had noticed the people intruding upon their house. The lot of them were pretty strong when it came to protecting themselves, but it was better to get rid of pests as soon as possible. Hunters in particular needed to be dealt with quickly to keep the house from being torn up even more than it already was. At this point it probably wouldn’t take too much to bring the whole place down.

Clement bit his lip, sizing them up. These guys actually looked pretty formidable, and it wasn't like the ghosts had much practice dealing with hunters. He wanted to find the others, to seek out maybe Ludwig or perhaps even Cadoc to see what they would do. However, at the same time half of him was screaming to find help, the other (more curious) half made it so he couldn't take his eyes off of them. He had to know more about them- and the best way to do that, Clement knew, was to observe.


xxx

[GrayStar51]

CADOC
________________
ghost - ferrokinesis
hunter - ksenya
feeling - wrathful
tagged - everyone

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xxxCadoc tried to avoid the others throughout the day. It wasn't that he didn't like the other ghosts, it was just so... slow around them. While many of the others were still trying to cope with death or had accepted it with a contagious melancholic apathy, Cadoc still retained his vigor, his spirit, and it seemed too much to be surrounded by the dull ache the other ghosts had been swallowed up by. So, Cadoc stayed in the cellar most of the day, and would only come upstairs to socialize at night, when he was naturally more relaxed anyway. The cellar was very interesting sometimes. Filled with old boxes, Cadoc would spend hours rifling through photo albums, old books, and stray toys left down here over the years. Besides being entertaining, the cellar had iron rods supporting the floor above. The old, strong metal gave Cadoc energy, and perhaps more power and strength. While he was still a powerful ghost above, he was never closer to the thick metal than he was right now. He would just have to reach his hand up and touch them, and he would be energized by the power coursing through the metal. He felt more alive down here, it was his place. None of the other ghosts really appreciated it down in the cellar, probably because of the dark and dank feeling all around. The "dungeon", they called it. Fine by Cadoc, it was more of a sanctuary for him.
xxx While ruffling through a water-damaged copy of Tom Sawyer, Cadoc heard an unruly sound above, and then a shuffle of footsteps. With every step, dust descended from between the floorboards into the cellar. This wouldn't be too odd, except the other ghosts weren't usually so heavy set. The occasional scurry here and there, barely noticeable, was the typical sound of a ghost moving about. The thundering sound of boots across the rotting floor certainly wasn't a ghost, and it certainly wasn't welcome here.
xxx Enraged and ultimately just bothered about being so disturbed, Cadoc manifested randomly upstairs. He wasn't very good at appearing in a controlled location, he just wanted to be upstairs so he could see what was going on. Somehow, he ended up in the kitchen. He could hear other ghosts nearby, probably Ramsey or Roman muttering in another room. Cadoc would find them in a moment, but first, his curiosity had to be satisfied. Invisible for a moment, he opened the kitchen door, about a foot ajar, and stood transparent in the doorway. He saw a menagerie of the living, bearing weapons and backpacks. Amateurs. Cadoc had seen hunters before, but he quickly realized early on that they were never a threat. What were they going to do? Kill them? Ha, they could try. Hunters were usually just looking for a good scare, maybe a spiritual experience. While the other ghosts often tried to ignore people, hoping they would just go away, Cadoc wasn't one to turn the other cheek when his territory was invaded. He watched the hunters as they spread out, with scanning equipment and other gadgets, yet they couldn't detect him, a full figure standing in the doorway. Yet, Cadoc was growing tired, he would be visible soon. With one last surge of energy, he took the metal coat rack and threw it across the room, which crashed into the opposite wall. In a second, Cadoc slipped back into the kitchen an slammed the door.
xxx Once closed, he fell back, now visible but slightly dizzy. He stood, wobbling, and ran into the dining room. He ran his hands along the wall, searching for a piece of metal, something the draw energy from. He was like a magnet, pulled towards the metallic substances in the walls. He could feel nails, staples, little things as he ran his hand over the deteriorating wallpaper, but nothing large enough. He circled the house, making it back to the staircase. He would have fallen again, if not for the banister and railing. While the railing was a smooth polished wood, the supports were decorative iron spires. Taking both hands, Cadoc grabbed an iron bar in each hand for a moment, just enough to clear his light head. Energized, he ran up the stairs, seeking out the other ghosts.

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[left][center][b][color=#001818]CADOC[/color][/b]
________________
[size=80]ghost - ferrokinesis
hunter - ksenya
feeling - x
tagged - x[/size][/center][/left][left].
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.[/left] [list][size=80][color=transparent]xxx[/color] text[/size][/list]

[tatumpierce]

ᔕуKσTιχ ❅ 0000[ tags; open ][ 21 ][ the silent hunter ][ relationship; "....." ]

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0000
Sykotix was as distant as he ever was, crystal ice gaze set on scanning his surroundings. His body was at ease, muscles stretching with the effort of reaching behind him and holding onto his SR25. It's only fitting Syke would prefer long distance battle, but that did not render him an inept toddler in hand-to-hand combat. It was a matter of favoritism, keeping his body safe first and then resorting to different tactics if given no other option. After all, why would he carry around a portion of his close friend's knife collection if he did not intend to use them? His ears pin pointed the differing noises, picking them apart and deciphering which were of the human kind and which were not. Silence was Syke's best friend, but that violent calm eluded him now that he was stuck in a group of hunters. It was an ungodly place, dark and eerie, but none of those characteristics bothered this man while he worked effortlessly with his fingers.

It's a simple fact no living person in this room knew a damn thing about him, and Syke favored such an outcome anyhow. Even if they wanted to gather around the campfire and pass around childhood stories, Sykotix wouldn't have much to contribute even if he tried. Countless sleepless nights he wasted away powering his mind to pass this imaginary wall between his memories and himself. The blockade wouldn't disappear, so he was stuck with a blank space before age 16. By age 17, he'd dug around for enough information to form a new identity and a new life. His name? Sykotix. It wasn't particularly a name anyone would use, and the effect gave him just the opposite of what he intended. It made him stand out, made him unique. But he stuck with it for reasons he'd never explain.

His rifle rested on his lap now, and considering the group's profound circumstances of supposedly needing to be hunting and scanning this home for trouble, Syke... Well he was never really one to abide by the rules. Rather, it didn't faze him in the slightest as soon as he stepped foot through that creaking door. His body sought out the staircase and without a hint of hesitance he sat down on the steps lazily and watched the chaos ensue. So now he wasted his time away as he would if he were back in his cabin with nothing to do: disassembling and reassembling his rifle out of habit. His lean frame hovered over the gun, using his lap as a table of sorts while he sat on the beginning steps of the staircase. He just couldn't be bothered to put forth concern toward trying to comfort anyone here who might have been losing their composure. It's not that he was apathetic, though in a general sense perhaps he was, but trying to comfort anyone was high above his level of social expertise, so instead of inevitably failing, he opts out and recedes into the background where none would pester him aimlessly. The man was perpetually distant, but if the group needed him, there was no one more willing to lend a helping hand if it were a dire enough circumstance.

Sighing, he looked down and realized, before he knew it, the gun was once in tact. His fingers itched to start again, but that was enough for now. He was never a fan of crowds, although he did like people in general. Unlike some others he knew and hung around with back east, Syke didn't push others to leave him alone, but he thought it often enough. How long had they hung around this haunted Victorian home already? A minute? Two? If there was one surefire way to drive Syke insane, it was confinement with more than two people. And last time he was updated, this hunting group most definitely consisted of more than two human bodies. The thought of the non-living apparitions also possibly becoming an addition to this lovely gathering only made it that much worse. Even if someone addressed him or if the group was conversating, Syke had a new objective, and that was to find a space where he could have some peace and solitude. It seems life had differing plans though, and his blue gaze swiftly turned to where a metal coat rack slammed into the wall with a loud enough noise to alert him of another presence. His reflexes were quick, standing up calmly although his eyes rove around with hyper speed, seeing the kitchen door slam.

Great. He repressed the urge to groan outwardly, instead turning to whoever was close to him at that moment and eyeing the man -or woman- warily. Syke hated the feeling of being watched, and his skin prickled uncomfortably. Even if he were to look in the direction from wherever the stare originated from, something told him there'd be nothing there particularly noteworthy. He inhaled, exhaled, then... sat back down. Ever the odd one, and rarely one to begin confrontations, Sykotix was simply biding his time, waiting for the moment where everything felt right and he could begin his hunting. The others might have been loud, but unless anyone were really paying attention, Syke blended into the background smoothly, quiet and relaxed despite the given circumstance and mission. He didn't like standing out. No, he much preferred being the silent observer-and so he continued to keep his lips sealed tightly, eyes watching every detail.

[unshiu]

Ｌ`Ｕ`Ｄ`Ｗ`Ｉ`Ｇ `.`` Ｖ`Ｏ`Ｎ `.`Ｂ`Ｒ`Ａ`Ｎ`Ｄ`Ｔ！
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glass filled most of the room's area, shards of different shapes, sizes, forms. the pieces surrounded ludwig in his usual spot atop the window sill. the small, precise incisions etched on the window he maintained represented a little over four years since day one. he worked through glass passively yet skillfully, eyes still fixated on the window and very vaguely everything past it. in a placid state, ludwig was both aware as well as immersed in thoughtless thought, ears ringing. besides the sound of glass movement, it had been quiet. it had been quiet for the longest time. at this point, time wasn't of much importance to him - or at least one would think that it shouldn't have been. regardless, he recognized that many seasons passed and things inhaled and exhaled life or continued to grow, whereas for some things, death prevailed. everything was changing and he was an exception (along with the other five occupants of the house).

ludwig would quite often attempt sifting through his memories, like the way one would quickly scan a book, flipping through pages as if searching for something specific - something that he himself didn't know of, to find something cohesive. for the most part however, it was empty space, re-arranged pages with missing words that didn't make any sense. alas, it was finally unusual movement outside that broke him out of his trance. the glass he was working on abruptly stopped moving midair and in the midst of action, a faint crack was heard. not having moved himself at all, eyes still glazed over, they followed the source of said movement. they seemed to be making their way to the house. as neutral as ever, he thought, this was going to be a change of pace. the ringing in his ears had stopped.

in no hurry, ludwig set the glass on the floor gently, leaving his art piece unfinished in an unnatural, amorphous state. he walked through the halls languidly. hearing an echo of a bang, an eyebrow raised. ludwig had to pause and reach into his memory for a moment. ahh, yes, the noise could only be associated with wooden doors. wooden doors closing shut rather loudly, signifying that something - someone would've had to open them first in order for the outcome to be achievable. it really had been a long time.

questioning the humans' motives, he wondered what business they would have. seeing a familiar stature, ludwig reached out with his hand and placed it on clement's shoulder. he brought a finger to his lips, an unspoken shhh, eyes never lifting their gaze off of the humans. eyeing the weapons they possessed, his mouth formed into a small-shaped "o", eyebrows raised with what you would normally assess to be a pleased look. it was the first time he'd seen this many hunters, and he really couldn't take his eyes off of them. he watched the six as if they were prey. licking his lips, they pursed themselves into a thin smile. eyes crinkling with ambiguous emotion, ludwig's eyes made contact with all the ghosts present. no words were needed to express what he was thinking.

.`
ＣＨＯＰＩＮ ＮＯＣＴＵＲＮＥ ＯＰ． １５ ＮＯ． ３ -- ＩＮ Ｇ ＭＩＮＯＲ``````````````````````.```-- ５２４
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