Tartarus
Forum Replies Created
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As if on cue, Marion flounced into the room, dragging young Casey behind her. “Bell! Still sulking around and- oh Max, you’re here too! Good!” With that, she nudged the intern forward, clapping her hand on his shoulder proudly. “I found you a new team member! Casey here has proven to me that he has what it takes to be a bonafide SUF agent. And won’t it be nice to have such a handsome strapping young man on the crew?” She ruffled his hair and smirked as if she were the hunter who had shot the king buck. It was a nearly bi-weekly occurrence, that Marion would find some attractive but young intern and “take him under her wing” in her weird little way. “I think he’ll be a valuable player on this mission.”
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It was certainly taking that intern a long time to retrieve her coffee. But Marion was in no rush to go speak to her team about this issue so it was a welcome excuse really. She took the chance to tidy up a bit, spraying another half can of hairspray onto her precisely styled coiffure and brushing the ashes off her ruffled silk blouse. She was just freshening up her lipstick when the intern slipped dejectedly back into the room. “Oh there you are…” She said, turning to him and wrinkling her nose slightly. “Sorry, uh, Bell… Startled me.” He looked ready to curl up and die as he handed her the coffee cup. “Knives?” She said, taking a sip, “this is perfect by the way, thank you.” The boy was staring grimly at the ground. “Oh come now sweetie, it’s not so bad. What’s your name? I never did get to ask.” “Casey.” He said miserably. “Casey, Bell scares the shit out of everyone-” she paused apologetically, realizing that wasn’t quite the right metaphor for right now. “But that’s what being a policeman is, running around with terror in your heart and a scowl on your face. You freak out, you move on.” Casey laughed for a second before saying “yeah but, I…” And gesturing vaguely to his lower half. “Oh I have just the thing!” Marion said, handing him back the coffee and running to her office.
A few minutes later, two pairs of polished Gucci high heels clacked side by side down the hallway, the legs above them clad in elegant silk stockings, just high enough to give a peak of the garters under their owners’ tantalizingly short hip hugging skirts. People leaned out of their offices curiously as the agents walked by, greeted by a few wolf whistles. “Good morning Mr. Winston!” Casey called brightly to his boss and gave a dainty wave. Marion smiled and waved as well, the kid was a fast learner. “I still don’t know about these shoes. Or the stockings.” Casey admitted once they were inside the elevator as he stared down at his legs, which seemed rather mismatched with the shirt and tie he was still wearing. “Oh hush, they go with the skirt.” Marion laughed, pulling out a box of cigarettes from inside her bra and lighting one. “besides, you look amazing.” “Really? You think so?” The intern’s face lit up. “Definitely. Here,” she held out the box and lighter to him. “Calm your nerves.” He hesitated, clearly not a smoker, but then threw his hands up in dramatic ‘what the hell. Why not”, fashion, and accepted.
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“…so I said to her, ‘if you aren’t gonna satisfy me, maybe I’ll just have to wake up that little brother of yours down the hall.’ ”
“Heh, did you do it? The kid’s face would’ve been priceless.”
A gang of Alphas, probably just barely old enough to be allowed here, were making very loud conversation in the center of the room, their ties undone and feet resting on the expensive mahogany coffee tables. Most of those frat boy types avoided this place, opting for cruder environments. But there were always exceptions.
“Nah, let’s just say the bitch was feeling a bit more generous after that.”
The crew laughed and began enthusiastically slamming their beer glasses together before chugging them down and demanding that a passing waitress get them more.
Everley clenched her fists in the hem of her dress and tried not to listen, she would have dearly liked to walk over and knock all of their teeth out right now. Though of course a tiny omega like her had a better chance of sprouting wings than ever actually doing that. She could clean dried milk from a sleeping kitten’s face without waking it up, but to give an Alpha so much as a papercut, impossible.
“Could’ve done it anyway though. I swear you could smell that boy’s heat from the front door.”
“Already? At 11 years? What a freak!” -
In the conference room, a young intern stood uncomfortably beside the woman currently reclining like a woozy panther, her high-heeled feet propped on the table. Marion tilted her head languidly and gazed at the papers being offered to her. “Hmmm?” She leaned back in her chair and reached one perfectly manicured hand to take the packet. “Now what’re y’all up to this time…?” She mused, wiping the lipstick stains from her coffee cup as she read. The scent of cigarette smoke hung suffocatingly heavy in the air, and Marion made no attempt to conceal the full ashtray beside her. Mousy had strictly banned smoking in their offices, but he had made no mention of the conference room. The intern began coughing feebly from the smog and hurried toward the door. “Oh would you refill this, darlin’?” She held out the coffee mug to him as he came back. “four sugars, no cream. Thanks hun.” She turned back to the report as he left, a slight frown forming in the corner of her mouth.
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Name: Bailey Williams
Title: Sharp Sting
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Hero or Villain?: villain
Powers: can control huge cloud of needles magnetically, even from a considerable distance. Think a huge swarm of metal bees.
Appearance: http://www.skyrie.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/photo.jpg wears magnetized cuffs and head thingy, and a coat which is floor length in the back. The whole coat is usually covered with like 50 bajillion needles slid into the top layer of fabric, i just suck at drawing that kind of thing. hair is slicked back and then spiked.
Personality: cold and calculating, very creative thinker when it comes to ways to hurt people. is happiest when everyone around him is miserable and too weak to do anything about it.
Bio: stole a prototype magnetic field generator from the army research base his dad worked at, they had meant to use it to allow for lifting heavy metal objects, but with some tinkering he figured out how to use the field to control a cloud of iron filings, then upgraded to razor sharp needles.
Likes: being in control, mechanics and engineering, manipulating people and plotting
Dislikes: emotional, rude, unintelligent, or loud people, having to listen to authority
Other Info: -
Name: Everly Coldwater
Age: 24
Caste: Omega
Occupation: None really. Baby sits, Walks and grooms dogs and pet sits to earn a little extra money
Appearance: Short and lithe with large eyes and delicate features. Long wavy red hair usually in a loose braid. Wears a rockabilly style dress with little scotties on it at the club. Wears cargo pants and a t shirt everywhere else.
Personality: Gentle and affectionate, she’s sweeter than apple pie, which happens to be her specialty when it comes to baking.
Other important information: She lives with her parents, since she’s still unclaimed. She graduated high school but college is a no-no for omegas, so she spends her time caring for her many pets and the pets of other people. Loves to tell stories, especially to the neighboring betas’ children, who she babysits sometimes while they’re at work. She dreams of having her own family and “happily ever after” -
Please list the following aspects of your character. If you would like to play as more than one character go ahead, but no more than two.
NO SUPER POWERS OR SUPER WEAPONS OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT.
Name
Age (over 21!)
Caste
Occupation
Appearance
Personality
Other important information (illness, family, secret motives, etc) -
Rules
Members must be over the age of 21
Take the fights outside
The use of recreational drugs is strictly forbidden
Aphrodisiacs are also forbidden
As is anything used to induce unconsciousness
betas and omegas are not to enter the Alpha Lounge
Omegas in heat take responsibility for their own safety
Collared individuals are exclusive property of their owners
Do not engage in obscene acts in public -
oh cool! alright false alarm guys; you poor people still gotta deal with little ol me
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Oh, well either I misread that this morning or you updated it. But this is not what I signed up for. Count me out.
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Wait just a second
The information for this group said earlier this was a police force not a boot camp. I was under the impression we’d be fighting crime here, not getting “instructed” -
Name: Marion Merlot
Age: 38
Appearance: Ideal showgirl figure; tiny waist, large breasts, long
legs. With long wavy hair dyed blonde. Wears a lot of make up to make herself look perfect, and dresses like a wealthy peacock with sultry silk dresses, many diamonds, and high heels.Skills: charm/seduction, surprisingly intuitive investigator
Weapon of Choice: Whip
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Hello sorry if this is entirely impossible but would it be allowed if I were to start another group? Not a training one but more for people who want to play the older, less wild graduates of the boot camps? I’d do my best to keep it from interfering in your affairs, I promise.
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“I’m not a Cold One.” Lionel said, still focused on that mistake even after the appearance of a second Taren. He held out his arm haughtily, displaying the wound he had acquired on his way back to Enigma. The cut, though coated with dirt and debris, was clearly scabbing over with pure ordinary blood, not ice. Nor was the blood quickly dissipating into steam to indicate a firekin. “You’d know if I was. They’re weird looking.”
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Lionel beamed proudly, forgetting his fear for a moment as he set down his backpack and pulled a hand gun from it, holding it up before pulling out a second one, and a tear gas grenade. “Someone must’ve broke into the police station; the doors’re ripped off and…” The little boy falls silent, seeming to only now realize what likely happened as he wipes a bloodstain off one of the guns. All of those policemen would either be dead or inhuman by now. “I got these though! And I remembered to take bullets this time!” He grins again, holding up the backpack which was full of weapons. Rarely did Lionel bring back food when he was sent to retrieve it. The last time he went out he came back with seventeen stray dogs. Which, he had argued, could technically count as food if you were feeling especially barbaric.
