Role-Play Samples

Here are just some samples of role-plays I've done in the past. Each of these posts were plucked out of different role-plays, so they are rather spontaneous. If you are interested in doing a role-play with me however, then perhaps this will be useful to you in getting a feel for my writing style. Of course, many of these role-play posts are a bit older, and my writing may have changed since then. Also, I'm a terrible proofreader, lol, so don't mind any little typos you might find. (My hand enjoys typing words that my brain never even intended!)

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Table of Contents
Angel's Regin
A fantasy, centering around angels and demons

Harry Potter and the Battle of Hogwarts
A Harry Potter role-play taking place at the end of the 7th book

Let's Do Lunch
An office romance role-play written in 1st person

Tower
A sci-fi action thriller

And By Night, They Walked
A vampire and werewolf role-play

Paths of Destiny's Crossing
A World of Warcraft role-play

Arena
A gladiator and slave role-play

A Segment From: Angel's Reign

The placid countryside in which the Seraphin palace stood was nothing short of quiet and serene. There had been little in the way of penetration from the fallen angel tyrant known throughout Teralli as Nethara. Her Tainted ones were spread across most of the world, but the smaller villages and towns, especially those whose dominions were buried away from the rest of civilization in the more rural areas, were some of the few that remained, in addition to some of the most capable cities, who had great armies to defend their borders. However, it was only a matter of time before the harsh rule of Nethara would reach each of these defenseless and hidden-away lands. There was little hope for their future, except to hope that they would remain free for as long as the Lord would allow.

This day marked a new chapter in the life of the young elf maiden Vespera, daughter to Arthur and Nicolette Seraphin. The elf, whose years outmatched those of any mortal man's, but whose physical appearance coincided with that of an early twenty-year-old, wasted no time in finishing her final preparations, having already completed her prayers for good fortune. Disguised in a common gown with no particular ornaments or materials that would reveal her prosperous identity, Vespera took one final glance back at her family's castle. No more was it the majestic and magical place she had viewed it as as a child. Now, standing there in the gloom of the rain under the dark sky blanketing the world in shadow, the palace appeared ancient, cold, and unforgiving of her sins she was about to commit, her first being her departure. She stared at it for a few moments longer, stealing time that was not hers to take, and a single tear fell down her face, accompanying the streams of unsympathetic rain, which soaked her every inch, turning her normally very light hair a dark shade to add to the absence of light.

She wished things could be different, that these troubles would not bare down on their world and threaten her or her family, and for a second, the elf maiden felt her heart sink and a knot form in her throat. A wave of uncontrollable guilt overwhelmed her at the thought of what she was about to do. After all that her family had done for her and given her, how could she abandon them in such a way? In anger, Vespera fell to her knees, screaming in agony and throwing a fist at the muddy earth. Why did things have to be this way? Why could she just not live happily, as anyone from this world was entitled to? It all seemed so very unfair. The moments ticked by, and, not being a fool, she was aware of this even still, clutching her fist. It was her decision some years ago to aid all those she could against this threat with what abilities she had. She had, after all, practiced and exercised them for some time now. She knew she was ready...physically. Emotionally, however, was another matter for Vespera. It now appeared she had not prepared herself properly for her silent farewell.

The heavy sound of hooves on the earth would have normally been undeniably noticeable, but because of the thundering rainstorm that was coupled with the moist earth, Bron was able to approach his rider almost without her being aware. The large male clydesdale lowered his head to her, seemingly understanding her pain. His large, black eyes met hers, and despite herself, she smiled. Placing a hand on his long cheek gratefully, Vespera summoned the strength within her and stood, without another glance back at what was her home. The elf maiden mounted her steed without any sort of gear - reins, stirrups, or even a saddle, and took off into the downpour, her hazy figure disappearing into the mist and fog just as a light within the castle flickered on. (No doubt, someone, be it her parents or a servant, had become aware of her absence.)


It was a five day journey on horseback from her village in the country to the great city of Linkei, known throughout the lands as the City of Light. Vespera wasted no time in the small outposts and towns she rested at along the way. She had set out on a mission, and she had to stay committed to it now, for it was far too late to turn back around. She could only imagine what her parents would have to say to her. Frowning in shame at the thought of her parents, Vespera quickly proceeded through the gates and passed the countless guards on watch into Linkei, carried by her ever-faithful Bron, whose endurance had proved more than useful over their short passage. The city was marvelous and extraordinarily large. She never had the pleasure to visit the city, though she had heard a few of her wash-women in her palace speak about it. Though she knew it was the largest city on the continent, Vespera could not quite comprehend its size until she had experienced it firsthand. Overcome with a new sense of determination at the sight, she felt her heart lighten subtly, a feeling of hope embracing her.

Slowing her steed to a leisure stride suited for navigating in town, she continued forward, eyeing the city hungrily, taking in each sight with wide eyes. It was clear to any observer that she was not from around these parts. Though she dressed as close as she could to any commoner, Vespera still possessed a rather valuable silk pouch for her precious belongings and gold that she would need. Because of its washed dark color though, she felt it did not completely stand out against the rest of her facade.

"May I be of 'ny service, miss?" came a voice from below her.

Glancing down to the streets atop her lofty clydesdale, Vespera saw a man whom she could only describe as being a beggar, for he wore tattered clothes, possessed a large satchel for collecting coins, and looked so dirty, that it appeared he had not had the opportunity to shower for the past week. Behind the filth and the appalling attire though, it was quite evident that this young man, a human, was naturally handsome. She wondered if anyone else had the eyes at all to see it too.

"Excuse me?" was all she could respond with, unsure what exactly this man was getting at.

Her gentle and kind tone must had surprised the man, especially coming from such a fair elf, for he took a moment to collect himself. "I, I just," he stuttered, his dimples showing now, "Y'must forgive me, m'lady," he started, looking strained to find the most suiting words, "but it appeared as if y're here for yer first time." He paused, searching her eyes for some form of acknowledgment. She nodded her head with a faint smile. "Y'see, I've lived 'ere for all me life. If ye'd like a guide or summit, I'm at yer service."

"That's very kind of you, sir. May I inquire as to your name?"

"Oh! O'course. How forgetful o' me. I'm Beckett, Willard Beckett." He offered his hand, but quickly withdrew it at the sight of how dark and dirty it was against her fair and light complexion.

"It is a pleasure," said Vespera earnestly. Holding out her hand for him, she said, "I am Vespera, and I thank you for your kind offer."

Astonished, once more, the beggar reluctantly took her small hand and gave it a little shake, bowing humbly before her. He, apparently, had not expected her to stop when he addressed her.

"I'm afraid my duty here will be too distracting for me too take any pleasure in aquatinting myself with this glorious city, Willard, but I shall not forget your kindness. For now, I hope this can express the gratitude in my heart." She pulled out a few gold coins from her silk satchel and dropped them into his open sack on the curb.

His eyes, now lit up with exuberance and life, Willard tipped his patched hat at her, revealing a full head of thick and healthy brunette hair, and beamed. "I look forward t'the day we cross paths again, miss Vespera," he breathed, flushing red.

Nodding in agreement, the female elf turned her thoughts to rotating her horse around, and as soon as it crossed her mind, he was pulling her in the appropriate direction. Though not entirely sure where she was headed, Vespera felt confident that this was where she was needed.

A Segment From: Harry Potter and the Battle of Hogwarts

The air was deceivingly fresh that morning and smelt of an array of breakfast foods, the aroma of delicious pancakes with rich syrup, sausage and egg biscuits, and warm hash browns carrying all the way up to the Ravenclaw tower as if by magic, waking up the groggy seventh-year from a rare, peaceful slumber. Willow Waters opened her dark eyes to find herself face-to-face with her best friend of seven years now, Ireland O'Carroll, her long, white, wavy hair falling down to tickle Willow's cheeks as she peered over her bed. Startled, Willow instinctively pressed her head far back against her pillow to allow some space. Ireland giggled.

"Did you know," questioned Ireland with a peculiar tone, "that you drool in your sleep? Thought it was just somethin' like water you spilt overnight, but I had myself a closer look and it most definitely is drool." She made a mock-disgusted expression. "You're a bit unusual, you know that?"

"Me!?" shot Willow, wiping her mouth in humiliation. "You're the one who's watching me in my sleep!"

"Oh, come now," pressed Ireland, grabbing Willow's arm to pull her out of the four-poster bed. "We're already late for breakfast! If we're late to class..." Her voice trailed off, and suddenly Ireland's soft, light skin turned even paler, her face turning serious. "Well, we just can't have that happen," she then concluded, attempting to put on a smile.

Pausing, Willow then reacted, turning to the large, wooden clock on the wall. "Late? But, how? I'm never late! Thank goodness I showered last night," she said more to herself. "I need to get dressed!"


The morning only grew progressively worse at Hogwarts for Willow and Ireland. After a quiet breakfast in the Great Hall (which, thankfully, was as delicious as always, thanks to the ever hard work of the House Elves) without any mail from either of their owls, the Ravenclaw duo had made their way up to Charms class on the second floor, only to find that their favorite Professor, Professor Flitwick, was ill with a throat infection and could not speak to teach them their lesson. Instead, he had them all going over their previous lessons and testing one another. Despite his pressing smile, Willow suspected that his illness came rather conveniently on the day when they were supposed to learn how to use the Caterwauling Charm in order to detect dark wizards or Death Eaters that trespassed. Nevertheless, she tried to make the most out of the class period by practicing the Engorgio charm on various parts of Ireland's body (most favorably, her nose), while Ireland was persistent on using the Muffliato jinx to fill Willow's ears with an unidentifiable buzzing.

Later that day, when the hallways cleared out just before the bell rang for another class, Willow found herself in the presence of a Slytherin boy by the name of Conner Raines out in the Transfiguration Courtyard. Ireland had already gone on to Study of Ancient Runes, which was one class the two did not share. Conner's familiar sly smirk caused Willow to stop dead in her tracks, her eyes flickering uneasily toward the door to her next class up ahead - Transfiguration. McGonagall was already in a foul mood after being forcibly replaced by Snape as Headmaster. She would not be so forgiving if Willow were to show up late. Nervously, for WIllow was no fool and knew exactly how Conner felt about her, she approached Conner in an attempt to be nonchalant.

"All right, Conner?"

"Willow," he breathed, his piercing gaze never leaving hers. "I know you can't talk," he noted, as if reading her mind. Willow's eyes darted around, making sure Filch or, Heaven-forbid, Professor Snape were lingering around. "But I needed to see you." His voice dropped low, taking a few cautious steps toward her, his hands open in a non-threatening way. "I just wanted to make sure you were...okay," Conner explained.

"I'm fine," answered Willow almost a little too quickly. "I mean," she added apologetically, "I've been better. Things here have been better," she said, referring to Hogwarts, "but at least I'm not hurt. I heard a few kids had some rather painful detentions."

"Exactly," nodded Conner with an obvious look of concern on his scruffy face, his deep brown eyes almost looking watery in the daylight. "I couldn't stand it if something like that were to happen to you. I just..." He trailed off, lowering his head and breaking his stare into her eyes.

"Conner, I'm fine. Really. I'm stronger than you think," she reassured him, nearing him, close enough now to touch him. He did not raise his head. It was clear he was fighting back tears. Touched, Willow put a hand on his arm gently.

"Wil!" came a voice from the other side of the courtyard so suddenly that it caused the two of them to jump. Willow immediately dropped her hand.

She looked over to spot a Gryffindor boy a year younger than she named Dashall Hawkins. He was wearing a rather confused and disturbed look, his eyes shifting between the two of them as he approached. "I've been looking for you! You were supposed to meet me in the library over an hour ago," he reminded.

"What? Oh! Dash, I'm sorry," said Willow earnestly. "I completely forgot. I've been having an off day. How about we make a raincheck for tomorrow? I have class now."

"Clearly," he said darkly, eyeing Conner. Conner's smirk grew, rolling his head around in the other direction, now looking more like he were suppressing a laugh rather than tears.

Willow ignored his remark and offered a smile. "I'll see you two later."

Turning and leaving the seventh and sixth-year boys alone, Willow made for the large, double doors to Transfiguration. Before she reached them though, the bell rang and the doors closed automatically, shutting her out completely, as if in an angry rage. Sighing loudly, Willow turned to roll her eyes at her friends before pulling open one of the doors and entering class late.


"What'd he want?" asked Ireland later after their classes for the third time. "I mean, what was he doing wandering around anyway? And how'd he know your schedule and that you'd be going to Transfiguration?"

"I told you," replied Willow, exasperated as the two sat in the Great Hall that afternoon, their books and piles of blank parchment spread out between them. "He just was concerned like any friend would be."

"Why won't you just admit that you like him? It's as obvious as troll is stupid! You can't deny it."

Willow looked up from Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks to shoot Ireland a dangerous glare. "I don't like anyone right now. I'm too...busy being confused," she admitted. "Conner is dangerously intriguing and a mystery and obviously does like me a lot, but Dashall is sweet and gentle, but safe and protecting. I just don't want to make a decision that I'll regret later, you know?"

"Keeping busy?" interrupted a voice from behind her. Ireland's eyes had already grown as large as goose eggs before Willow finished her sentence, clearly having noticed who stood behind her friend - Professor Snape, his scowl as deep and threatening as ever. Willow shot her head around to look up at him. "Perhaps your Professors are not providing you with an adequate amount of homework? We'll have to fix that. Thank you for bringing it to my attention," he said before turning around with a sweep of his long, black cloak and a subtle smile on his thin lips.

"Can this day get any worse?" moaned Willow, planting her face down into her book.


By the time dinner came around, Willow and Ireland both were ready to just retire up to their dormitories to relax and escape. The two sat and made quick work of their turkey and potatoes with Lexi Hart, another Ravenclaw girl, not really talking much. Snape ate at the High Table at the far end of the Hall, his rather stern glare pressing on the room where stillness had befallen the students ever since his promotion. No longer were the students rowdy and talkative. An air of fear was evident these days, especially since Dumbledore's murder and the rise of the Dark Lord. No one quite felt the same since, and it was hard to act normal.

"Let's play Exploding Snap after dinner," Willow heard a Ravenclaw boy suggest to another. "We can get another group going and play into the night!" He strained to sound excited, but it seemed to have worked.

"All right. Yeah!" replied the other boy.

"Great," Ireland whispered into Willow's ear as she leaned over. "We'll never get to relax."

"I have an idea," Willow responded with abruptly, causing Ireland's eyes to narrow in an attempt to figure out what it could be. "As long as we're back before sunset, we won't get in trouble." This caused Ireland's puzzled expression to grow.

After they finished their apple turnovers and the plates disappeared from the table, the pair exited the Great Hall with Ireland trailing Willow on her heels. They didn't speak a word though until they were outside in the courtyard, safely out of earshot from anyone important.

"Right then," said Willow, not stopping as she made her way toward the thin bridge, "Let's head to the lake."

"The lake?" questioned Ireland, attempting to hold her blonde locks away from her face as the April breeze blew past them. "What for?"

Willow suddenly stopped and spun around to face her friend, wearing a big grin. "To get away, of course!"

Making their way down the grounds that curved past Hagrid's hut, the low sun creating long shadows along the scenery, they reached the lake to find themselves anything but alone. It seemed as if some other students had the same idea. Skipping rocks were three fifth-year Hufflepuff boys. Sitting in a tree overlooking the black lake were two sixth-year Gryffindor girls. Playing with their feet in the water were a few young Ravenclaws. Even off toward the other side of the lake were some Slytherins taking a walk. In the midst of all the varied students gathered around the lake, Willow also noticed Dashall with some of his Gryffindor friends, Edward Capello, Tanner Falco, and a girl named Taylor Penny. Ever since Willow started hanging around with Conner, Dashall had become increasingly interested in being with Taylor whenever Willow was around.

"Willow!" called Dashall, running up to them. "Hey," he grinned. His smile was so honest and warm. "How are you two?" he asked, making sure to include Ireland, eyeing her shortly. Ireland blushed. He didn't notice.

"We've had better days," piped up Ireland, stealing away Dashall's longing gaze on Willow. "I think we got ourselves into a bit of trouble with Snape," she went on urgently, appearing to be happy to now have Dashall's attention.

"Oh, it was nothing," insisted Willow when she noticed the looks on Edward, Tanner, and Taylor's faces as they came up from behind Dashall. "We just may be facing some more homework is all."

"Yeah..." agreed Ireland.

"I can't stand the way that snake is taking over the school," added Taylor with passion in her voice. "He's not making life easy for any of us. If Dumbledore were alive --"

"--But he isn't," interrupted Dashall bitterly, causing Taylor to shut her mouth. "I just mean he's not coming back. We need to start thinking about the future and what we're going to do to get through all this. Something's coming. I can feel it."

"Got a dungbomb in your pants again, Hawkins?" taunted a familiar voice from behind them. Conner was approaching from the hill leading up to the castle.

"It's like he knows where you are!" whispered Ireland quickly into Willow's ear.

"Conner," replied Dashall irritatedly, his smile quickly fading. "Always a pleasure..."

Conner ignored him and went straight for Willow, his eyes, yet again, never leaving her, as if it were just the two of them standing there. "Wil," he said in a low voice. Dashall grimaced at the pet name that he himself used for Willow. "Heard some people would be down here. I was hoping I'd see you." He smiled.

"It's good to see you, too," smiled Willow, trying her best to act as if this were an ordinary greeting.

Dashall frowned. Taylor groaned when she saw Dashall was no longer paying attention to her and turned around to join some other Gryffindors. Ireland stole some more glances Dashall's way while he was distracted. Willow held her breath. It felt as if a bomb were about ready to explode around her.

A Segment From: Let's Do Lunch

"Where has the morning gone, eh, Evelin?" asks our boss, Mr. Chase, with a phony grin on his well-shaven face as he passes by my desk. He makes sure to drop off the audits for accounting he needs copied, his insincere "Thanks," as meaningful to me as his fake exuberance. I hate that he calls me 'Evelin.' Everyone else has always called me 'Eve.' I think he believes he's being respectful or proper by calling me by my true name. God, I hate him.

I offer a slight nod in response, just enough to let him know I acknowledged the papers, but not so much to tempt him to linger any longer, in fear I might show just enough enthusiasm to cause him to start a conversation with me. Taking the papers from the corner of the outdated desk of mine, I am disappointed to see that there are more than I had expected. Reluctantly, I take them, but as I stand up, my thoughts immediately settle on the figure of a certain man sitting in a desk near the copier. Suddenly, I'm not all that troubled to make these copies.

Before getting up completely, I make sure to adjust my dark, curly locks of a disaster I call my hair. It's not that I don't like my hair - I do - and I admit that I get compliments on it every so often, it's just that it never seems to do what I want it to, even with absurd amounts of mousse. This morning I had time to assist some of my natural curls though, by curling a few strands with the curling iron. Glancing at myself in the mirror on the wall quickly, I'm pleased to see that it paid off. Some.

With the pile of papers in hand, I make my way over to the large copier along the wall and near his cubicle. Since when did walking became such an Olympic sport? I immediately feel unsure of myself and begin to second-guess my strides as I draw ever-closer. Is it apparent? Oh shit, he can tell I'm nervous, can't he? Just calm down, I tell myself. I just need to relax. Wait a second... Did he just look my way? No. I'm going to make boring copies for my repulsive boss. That's all. I won't even strike up any small-talk with him.

"Hi."

Dammit. I caved.

My attempts at concealing my delighted smile must have failed, as I can tell it's evident. My teeth are showing. I begin working the copier, desperately trying not to stare. How can I not? I feel as though I'm under a spotlight, with everyone watching how painfully obvious I am being. I try to relax my cheek muscles by thinking of the nastiest thing I can come up with -- Michael Jackson's hairy balls. Ew. It worked.

"So, slow day, huh?" I ask, trying to sound uninterested, as if I'm forced to make this small-talk with him. It's hard. "I've been dealing with a bug in the software which prevents me from inputing anything in the spreadsheets and of course monitoring our resources, which are getting questionable again, if you ask me. Bill says we're in the clear, but you know how it goes. We'll see at the end of the month."

Jesus, did I really just say that much? I heard myself talking, but the words were out of my control. My head is spinning. When I hear his reply, I almost forget how to operate the machine I'm using, allowing myself to get lost in his words. It's like I'm a high schooler with a silly crush all over again, only I've never experienced anything like this before. Usually, the guys will be the first ones to approach me. I'm much too introverted and too much of a pansy to ever attempt anything that daring. Unfortunately for me, most of the guys in my past turned out to be real jerks or losers, either the cheating-type or the 'College is for freaks; I wanna be a construction worker'-type. (I even once dated a guy who still lived with his mother and who let her do his laundry. Yeah, she totally washed his undies. It wasn't a pretty thing.) Now, however, I can't seem to stop pursuing him. I've been single for four months. I'm almost certain he is too. But what if I'm wrong?

I finish up making the copies and offer one last bittersweet smile his way before turning around and heading for Mr. Chase's office around the corner. My breath returns to me, and the smile quickly fades from my face. I can only hope my boss isn't in the mood to talk. As I knock on his door, he immediately gets up and opens it for me, his eyebrows raised in a questioning but welcoming manner, slipping a smile on as I attempt to decipher my feelings about entering his office.

"Those the copies?" he asks, returning to his desk and his computer. Good, maybe he isn't in the mood to make small talk.

"Yes, they are," I reply and approach his desk, setting them down. After a moment, I inquire, "Is that it?"

He looks up at me, taking his eyes off his monitor. His eyebrows raise again. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Thanks, Evelin!" He continues to type, almost in a sort of trance, and his face turns hard, his eyes distant.

He must be working on something important, I figure. Thankful, I turn around and close the door behind me. As I walk back toward my desk, making my way through the maze, my eyes flicker over toward the copier. No, not the copier. Just in that general direction - not at anyone in particular. At least, that's what I tell myself. Denise, the larger middle-aged woman also in accounting from the corner of the office makes eye-contact with me, smiling almost too sweetly, nearly laughing by the time she returns her attention back to her work. She knows. Who else knows? I'm like a walking advertisement with flashing words that announce all my secret feelings to the world. I sometimes hate how I'm read like an open book.

Sitting down in my less-than-comfortable chair in my cubicle, I roll up to my computer and take a look at the clock. It reads "11:30." Only a half an hour till lunch. Already, the dim, yellow fluorescent lights have begun to hurt my eyes. Returning to my work, I can only hope lunch break comes quick.



I can't stop going over our almost trivial, short conversation Adem and I had a moment ago. I repeat each word the both of us said again and again in my head. I had abruptly ended the informal exchange of awkward words when I had realized I was babbling. Now, I was beginning to wonder if I came off as snooty or indifferent. All this worrying is keeping me from figuring out this bug on my computer so that I can do my job. I don't care though, at least not until I realize someone is watching me in my utter insanity.

Quickly spinning around to do a 180, I am face-to-face with Jason, a man in his late twenties with a distinct beer-belly and an almost permanent grin on his highly scruffy face. I have the great honor of having our two cubicles connected; the only thing separating us is a small divider going through our desks, so this is just one of many of his frequent visits over to my side of our cramped space. He smirks at me, obviously going over possible jokes in his head that he can use. I decide to say something first to prevent it.

"Hey, Jay. I need some help." After working with Jason for nearly a year, I've learned that distracting him is as easy as giving him another task to complete.

"I can see that," he throws back at me. He's a real riot. I have no idea how he's constantly managing to bounce between girlfriends every other week (no doubt bar trash).

I ignore his remark. "Excel won't let me input anything anywhere," I explain shortly.

Jason rolls his chair up close to me eagerly. Though he never seems to be single, this man always appears willing to flirt with girls, especially me, since I am so near to his desk. It's obvious. Probably more obvious than I am with Adem, or at least, that's what I'll say to myself. Still, Jason does seem to know more about computers than I do, so he has come in handy from time to time. He steals my mouse away from me, and I roll back to allow him some room, my eyes narrowed on the monitor, attempting to figure out what he can do to solve the issue. All at once, he's clicking all around on things that I didn't even realize existed, going into preferences and menus and all sorts of settings that I've never used before. It's too much for me to keep up, and eventually, I fall behind, lost. Within a minute of his playing around with my computer, he tries typing in Microsoft Excel, pounding the keys with his large fingers. It works. Jason leans back in his chair, that smug grin of his returning.

"Wow," I say, though try not to sound too impressed to give him the pleasure. "Thanks. I don't even know what you did."

"It wasn't hard," he insists, scratching at his blonde, spiky hair with a toothy smile. "You need anything else while I'm over here?" He asks as if he doesn't sit right next to me.

"No," I reply, trying to look as if I'm contemplating possible ideas. "I can't think of anything."

"Cool," he says, and then rolls back to his desk, almost seeming disappointed.

I hate to seem like such a bitch, but what am I supposed to do? Should I ask him if he needs my help? No, of course not. That's just silly. I wouldn't want to help him with anything anyway, and who knows - he might just make up something just so I can go over there with him for a few minutes. What I did was perfectly alright and normal. Wasn't it? Man, I really mull over things far too much to be healthy.

Sighing, I realize I have work to do now. First though, I glance at the time. 11:45. Is that all? I still have fifteen minutes left before lunch. I might as well make use out of it, I say in my head. I know I'm just telling myself that because I should, but I don't believe it. I'd rather just kill time on the internet in one of my message boards, talking about my latest read or the movies in the theaters - anything to keep me away from this job. I have to stay on track though. I've already fallen behind. My motivation is lacking, mainly because my boss, Mr. Chase, is not the regular type of man to be in charge. He typically lets things slide, so long as the company isn't severely hurt. Just last month, he let Denise get away with "accidently" breaking her computer chair so she could get a newer, more expensive one, and I'm almost positive Adem has done similar things here as well. I would try it myself, but I've never been that type. I've always been introverted and unwilling to be adventurous in any way. It's not that I don't want to though; it's just that I never had anyone there to convince me to try anything. Most of my friends growing up were all the same way I was, so that's just how I stayed.

Before I realize it, I'm typing away, and ten minutes have gone by. Only five until lunch. I didn't bring anything today, as I ran out of time to pack a lunch since I spent more time than usual on my hair this morning. So, I just figured I'd run to a fast food joint or something. It beats eating in the break room anyway, unless Adem's there. I know that he tends to go out to eat more often than pack a lunch, so I rarely see him in there, which, at first, was a bit of a disappointment, but eventually I grew to expect it.

"You got a salad again today, Eve?" I hear Jason ask over his shoulder, breaking my short-lived concentration.

"No, actually, I don't. I'm thinking about going out to lunch today."

"Where to?" God, I hope he's not planning on asking to take me anywhere. He has a girlfriend this week, right?

"I don't know yet," I say quickly. It's not entirely a lie.

He drops it. Thankfully.

A Segment From: Tower


Beep, beep, beep, beep!

The alarm was the worst and most obnoxious noise Will Ransford could imagine. When the relentless and ear-piercing beeping went off, snatching him straight out of a dream that he would never be able to recall, his hand immediately fell on top of the digital clock, hitting the large button which caused the rude awakening to cease. Groaning, the thirty-year-old rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Mondays were, without a doubt, the worst days of the week, especially if they were followed by long nights of alcoholic beverages, women, and a great many things Will himself was thankful he couldn't remember after coming home and passing out sometime between two and three AM. His body, on the contrary though, was forced to remember, as every muscle ached due to dehydration. His stomach was in knots, unsettled and craving food of the greasy, non-healthy sort. His mouth watered at the thought, which in turn was his ultimate motivation for forcing himself up and out of bed, slowly, and not at all unlike a zombie, towards the bathroom of his one-bedroom, middle-class apartment.

He stared at himself for a few long moments in the mirror. He showcased deep, dark circles under his equally dark brown eyes. His brunette hair was a disaster, tossed about from his sleep and plastered as such, due to the cream he styled it with. Sniffing, Will rubbed down his cheeks with his thumb and his pointer finger, feeling just how badly he was in need of a shave, hoping that somehow it wouldn't feel that scratchy and perhaps he could put off doing it just another day. Sighing, he pulled out his razor in defeat, setting it aside as he groggily squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

"This," he moaned to himself in exasperation through a mouth full of toothpaste, "is going to be long day."

~

"This is going to be a great day!"

Beverely Carrington was anything but pessimistic, even on Monday mornings, which her coworker, Virginia, found curiously to be both annoyingly irritating and strangely uplifting. Virginia, thankfully, worked forty-three floors up from the overly crowded, ridiculously eccentric lobby, or rather, the Fun Floor, where Beverely managed things at the front desk. As usual, both business people and tourists alike were filing in and out of the building, quickly devouring the large space as if it were no bigger than trailer home, causing it to become very difficult to maneuver around effectively to get where one needed to be.

"Is that right?" Virginia responded almost absentmindedly as she approached the front desk, pulling her bag and suitcase in close to her body, so as not to hit a few children that ran past excitedly.

"Yes," replied Beverely, her long, fiery red hair down today which coordinated with her young and dirty secretary look she had going for her, her blouse unbuttoned enough to get a feel for just how voluptuous her body was. "I've finally caught up with all this scheduling," she declared in her peppy, upbeat, feminine voice. "The boys upstairs also secured this huge deal with a client from - oh shit - overseas somewhere. I think it was like...Ontario?" Virginia opened her mouth to correct her, but was cut off before she could even form her first word. "Oh, and Mark from Accounting brought donuts and bagels in the lounge if you want some! You know Mark, right? He's that cute one with the butt. You know!"

Virginia had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "Beverely," she started in her usual, professional tone, "as fascinating as that all is, could you please just tell me when my meeting is today? Did you get a conference call yet?"

"Oh! Sure thing, Gin!" The nickname came with time and a work-relationship -- both of which, for Beverely, took no longer than saying 'Hello' to Virginia. Scrambling through her paperwork and folders, Beverely finally stopped at one in particular. "Yes! Mr. McKinly called and said the meeting's at 4:00."

Frowning, Virginia sighed in frustration. "Wonderful. That means, if I'm lucky, it'll last long enough for me to get paid overtime. Thanks."

With that, Virginia disappeared behind the ever-growing crowds of people, making her way toward the elevators on the far end. Beverely watched her go, a look of empathy on her almost unnaturally pretty face, which she soon dismissed with a shrug and a smile, returning to her phone calls.

~

The train ride into the city always lasted exactly forty-two minutes. Will had it timed now, after using it for so long. It was always near full capacity in the mornings, yet he regularly managed to find a seat, or at least take one halfway through when another person would get off at a stop before his. He had grown used to the unrhythmic shaking and lurching of the cars, the underground tunnels, the overhead sky passes, the slums with their graffiti and barred windows, the ritzy corporate buildings, and even the high-pitched screeching of the rails, which he thought would never stop sounding like nails on a chalkboard. No longer had he a desire to gaze out the window at any of this scenerey, but instead would read the morning paper, as if it really meant much to a guy like him. Mainly, he focused on the sports or entertainment sections, always eager to read his daily horoscope. Those that rode the train along with him, consisting of both well-off business men and women and the poor and penniless, would also be prone to read the paper too, or alternatively, attempt to drink their Starbucks or gas station coffee without spilling it on one of the unexpected turns. (Will found this to be quite humorous, and would even take his attention away from the paper to watch as some poor fool tried to sip their hot beverage, hoping inwardly to see it fly up and out of their hand. He, on the other hand, preferred to drink his coffee at his very stationary desk at work.)

Finally, his stop was called by the standard voice on the intercom. Picking up his briefcase, Will stood ready at the door, quickly departing as it opened. He normally would then wait for the bus to take him to Tower, but today he was running a bit late. Though he hated having to resort to taxi cabs because of how incredibly overpriced they were, he had no choice today. Standing at the corner of the street, Will scouted out the taxis which were literally everywhere. The streets of downtown Chicago were very likely filled with more taxis than any other type of vehicle, and they were constantly honking. To an outsider, it may have seemed overwhelmingly loud and rude, but to Will, it was the norm. He hadn't ever known much of anything else outside of Chicago, which suited him just fine.

He didn't even have to call for the taxi, as one, driven by an older Indian man, pulled up in front of him. The man said nothing as Will entered, awaiting a destination. The cab stunk of cigarette smoke, but at least the windows were all rolled down, allowing the cool morning air to filter in.

"The Tower building please," Will said as he shut the door behind him, setting his briefcase on the floor.

The driver took off, cutting off traffic from behind, zooming out and barely making it through a yellow light. The taxi driver tapped his horn at the cars in front of him almost the whole drive there. Will didn't mind, thankful that his driver was so eager to get him to work on time. He simply sat back, yawning, wishing he were still in bed and that the weekend weren't over.

Coughing up the twelve dollars for the ride, Will scrambled out of the yellow vehicle, jogging up to the lumbering Tower building, scaring away pigeons that paced the concrete steps along the way. He glanced down at his watch. Eight o'five. He still managed to be late. It wasn't the first time though, and surely wouldn't be his last. Plowing in the revolving doors, only to be greeted by the same introduction video playing on the monitors in the lobby, he shoved past people, making his way straight for the elevators, praying no one noticed his absence. He still had a long way up to go. With Tower's revolutionary technology though, thankfully the ride up to the forty-third floor took half the time it would in most other buildings. These elevators did, after all, make use of the less dangerous and more speedy magnetics to pull it along rather than cables. Still, he would have to wait for all the other people in the elevator with him to file out on their floors and pick up more along the way.

Arriving at last on floor forty-three, Will broke into a brisk power-walk, rounding the corner to the left and making his way to his office at the far end of the floor, past all the clerks in their desks behind padded dividers. He was stopped though by a sudden and abrupt, "Hey!" Turning around, Will expected to be face-to-face with his manager, an older, straightforward woman with a demanding tone. Instead, he found himself gazing into the eyes of one of the data entry clerks, Virginia West, whose name was one of the few he knew in the office.

"Oh, hi," Will started, unsurely. His face relaxed some as a sideways smile formed on his thin lips. He wasn't positive, but he thought he noticed Virginia's cheeks flush a darker shade of pink for a short moment.

Her eyes left his when she approached, getting straight to business. "There's a call for you on line one. I-I know," she stumbled, as if trying to find the right words, "because I, well, I had to file a complaint so...so, I put it in the folder in your office and that's when it rang. I just, I well... I put it on hold for you, since I figured you'd be here soon." Her tone progressively grew more anxious and irritated, either at him or herself for being so flustered -- he honestly couldn't tell. When she finished, she looked up at him with a slight frown.

"Oh, sure, no problem. Thanks. I, uh, appreciate it."

His hands almost seemed to have a mind of their own, a mind which was unsure what to do with themselves, as they attempted to find a divider to lean up against in hopes of looking suave. Instead, he completely missed the wall and ended up shifting his weight against nothing but air, causing him to nearly fall over. Laughing, Will regained his balance but not his dignity.

"Yeah, well, I'll go look into that complaint too for you." His eyes narrowed on hers. She said nothing. "Kay, well, thanks...again."

He spun around nervously now, and quickly retreated to his office, shutting the door behind him and swiftly moving for the phone on his desk, pressing the blinking green button next to line one. This certainly was shaping up to be a long day, as he had assumed.

~

By the time three o'clock rolled by, Dustin Sinclair, another office worker on the forty-third floor, was ready to take his much deserved brake. He, along with a few others, made their way into the break room, pouring themselves their sixth or seventh cup of coffee for the day - perhaps more in some cases - and relaxing in front of the TV or enjoying a snack from the vending machine. Dustin though preferred none of these commodities, but instead chose to sit in silence at the far corner of the room, giving his brain a workout with his trademark crossword puzzle book. To the others, it wasn't much of a break, but for him, it was enjoyable. For the most part, his coworkers considered him an odd, unsociable, and peculiar man. Perhaps he was.

The thirty-three-year-old brushed his shaggy yet stylish blonde hair aside so he could read better, contemplating his next word. It was then, that he noticed the unfamiliar sensation. His eyes narrowed as his hands bolted up to his head. Something was wrong. Something was...there. It was slight and almost unnoticeable at first, but the sensation kept building progressively, until he felt nauseous. Moaning, Dustin squeezed his head, laying it against the table in the break room. The others around him looked up, startled, unsure of what was happening. The feeling was so prominent and so unusual, he could hardly stand it any longer. He cried out in confusion and aggravation.

The others stood up. One man approached him slowly, equally puzzled. "Dustin," he asked. "Are you okay, man? Should I get someone...?"

"There's something...in there!" Dustin seemed unable to respond properly. "I...I feel it. It's in my head."

Thankfully, whatever was happening to him didn't seem to be painful. However, the invasion in his mind gave him a slight pressure on his forehead and above his ears. He squeezed his head harder, as if trying to push out the whatever-it-was from his head. And then, just like that, it was gone. The odd feeling in his brain had left, giving him the residual feeling it had been looking through his mind somehow. The others in the break room simply gawked at him, unsure if he was in any serious danger. Pushing his seat back and standing up, clutching his crossword book in his hand, Dustin shoved past his coworkers and out the door, returning to work, leaving them exchanging faces of bewilderment, snickering softly to themselves.

~

"Did you hear about the blackout on floor--"

"Yes," interrupted Virginia with a loud sigh. "Yes, I did. Many times now, in fact," she added with a snide tone, glancing up at the clock. It read three-ten. Break was over now and people were returning to their desks. Virginia though remained seated at hers, choosing only to munch on an apple while still continuing her work.

"What about basket-case, over there?" asked another woman in the office to Virginia, smiling and motioning towards Dustin in his seat at the other end of the room. "God, he's a loser. You should have seen him spazz out on break, Ginia."

"It's Virginia," she corrected, but it went unnoticed. The women in her office didn't really pay her much mind anyway, and only spoke to her to pass the time or get out of doing more work.

"He completely lost it," the woman went on, now speaking more towards the other who was near Virginia's desk who had been laughing at the thought.

"No way! That's hilarious! I bet he's on like bipolar medication."

A Segment From: Tower (continued)

The two women giggled together and returned to their desks, completely forgetting about Virginia altogether. It didn't bother her any. She preferred to be left alone. In fact, she always kind of had a thing for Dustin anyway, so when she heard his name come up in conversation, she couldn't help but wonder if he was okay. Glancing over the top of her divider, he eyes fell onto the older man, who seemed transfixed at whatever was on his computer screen, messaging his temples. Virginia titled her head to the side, studying him for a moment longer, until...

"Hey, Virginia." It was Will. She hadn't seen him all day, not since their little encounter in the morning. He approached her work station wearing a sympathetic face. "I just wanted to let you know that I took care of that complaint."

"Oh? Thanks, William. I'm glad to hear it." Virginia always had referred to him as William. She was the only one. She wasn't sure how to respond though. Did he really leave his office just to tell her that? Did he want a thank-you card and balloons? What was his deal? She could never quite figure him out.

Will, too, seemed unsure of himself now, reverting back to his sly yet less-than-confident expression. "Well," he started with a hearty chuckle, "keep up the good work." He threw her a rough pat on the back and turned around to leave. It, in turn, sent Virginia's small body wheeling towards her desk, crashing into her drawers.

Before Will could make it back to his office though, something rather unexpected happened. An ear-splitter clap of what one could only assume to be thunder echoed through the hallways and corridors of the office building, sending its employees lunging for shelter. Those near the windows poked their heads up, eyes growing wide as they noticed the glass on the building across the street shatter, plummeting dangerously towards the sidewalk below. Then, a second and a third bang followed, each equal in their strength.

Silence broke out amongst the people on the forty-third floor, as everyone gazed around in shock at each other. Some more brave of heart were standing near the windows, looking out at the madness and chaos that was building outside. And then, someone screamed.

"Look at the sky!"

Everyone rushed over to the windows now, their desire to understand what was happening greater than their confusion and fear. Virginia glanced back at Will, whose eyes were round in astonishment, as eager and lost as hers were. They both then made their way to open spots by the large windows and looked up. To their utter horror though, what they all saw was not anything any of them had been expecting.

Hurdling straight for them was a burning ball of flame. It was unreal. It took a few moments of staring at it for it to actually sink in with most people. Gasps and cries of shock and panic erupted amongst the employees. Some bolted, running for their lives. Others continued to watch it approach. Virginia turned around, undecided on just what to do, and then noticed Dustin. He was still sitting at his desk, his head resting on his hand, pushing up his hair, as he watched them all. His own expression was unreadable.

At that moment, the loudest of all the booms exploded, sending everyone, including Dustin, to their knees, clasping their ears. The office was in complete hysteria now. Everyone was looking at everyone else, searching faces for answers. They wouldn't need to wait much longer. A moment later, the entire skyscrapper shook violently as it was hit by the flaming object on the eighty-eighth floor. Everyone screamed, thinking it would be the last thing to escape their mouths. The floor beneath them rocked and the walls and windows trembled. Interestingly enough though, the building remained completely intact and did not crumble from the impact. Horrified people darted in and out of the hallways, trying to figure out what to do. Everything was a complete and hazy blur.

"Virginia!" cried Will, attempting to find her through the mass confusion. He received no response.

Then, someone yelled, "The windows are locked! They won't open!"

Will wondered why they were trying to open the windows, but then got his answer when he turned to look back outside. Almost impossibly, he witnessed as pedestrians and cars alike, along with the falling glass and rubble from the neighboring buildings, even the birds that flew past themselves, all appeared to be at a standstill. He gaped petrified, unable to move. Everything inside him was screaming to run, but he lost the feeling in his legs. How was this happening?

"William," then called Virginia to him from off to the side. "William!" she said again to try and steal his attention away from the outside.

He slowly turned toward her, his mouth wide open and his eyes as large as tennis balls. "I know," she said in disbelief. "I know! Stay with me here. We have to leave. Now!"

"What's happening?" Will asked, but quickly forgot to care when she grabbed his hand to pull him to his feet in a hurry. His sly half-smile returned just in time for Virginia to look back at him.

Normally, she would have offered some spicy reply to his boyishness, but instead, she simply said, "That's the Will I know. Don't leave me again." The words left her mouth before she could even process them, and so they came out sounding entirely different than she had originally intended them to be.

Looking around the crazed office, Virginia spotted Dustin again. He was looking just as terror-stricken as Will was, standing frozen by his desk. Though they rarely had spoken to each other beyond the formal "Hello," Virginia and Dustin always had an unspoken sort of communication and understanding between them that she could never quite put her finger on. His eyes met hers, and she beckoned him over. Without hesitation, Dustin came running towards them both.

"We've got to get out of here," he said when he reached them.

"Yeah, uh, you think?" replied Will, already beginning to walk out of the office and down the hall.

~

Screaming erupted into one long song of terror in the lobby of Tower. It could only be described as complete and total chaos.

"Dammit," muttered Beverely softly to herself from under her front desk, where she cradled her legs, biting her bottom lip nervously. "This was supposed to be a good day!"

A Segment From: And By Night, They Walked

Trembling and quivering madly, he hastily popped open the black and grey film container, pouring the small, round, red pills into the palm of his shaking hand. The drugs spilt out in numbers he did not require, consequently causing him to groan impatiently and in a loud, aggravated manner, as he attempted to sort out just two, while pouring the rest back in to its camouflaged canister. Hurriedly stuffing the container back into his jean pocket, the man, who appeared just under thirty, threw his head back, throwing the pair of pills in his mouth, and swallowed.

Letting out his breath, he placed his sturdy hands on top of the sink, allowing it to support his weight as he leaned there for a moment, head down, allowing the drugs to kick in, thereby enabling his trembling muscles to relax and return to normal.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, rolling his neck around, popping it back into place.

Lifting his head, the man forced himself to look into the mirror, whose modern silver frame was just as brilliant as the day it had been attached to that wall. His hair, somewhat disheveled, around four or so inches long off his head, was pure white, though not with age, and his scruffily sideburns grew all the way down to his jaw bone. Despite its unwashed condition, his hair was healthy and young, and, had it been properly taken care of, would have reflected that of perhaps a model in a magazine at a salon. His eyes, his right blue and the left green, were dazzling, radiantly more colorful than the average person without the aid of contacts. He didn't possess any beard, but did have hints of one, where small, prickly, persistent white hairs grew in - his five o'clock shadow.

Sighing, the man ran a hand through his hair once, causing it to stand up slightly more, before withdrawing himself from the public restroom, which, currently, he had been the only one occupying.

He emerged out into a semi-dim, vast, open room, whose walls were made of powerful steel, and whose ceiling stretched on for what seemed like ever, closing off in a dome-shape at its highest point. This was the Empire State Building of the underground, though whose purpose was to serve as a common meeting ground and safe-haven for his kind, the most trusted sanctuary, known only as "The Shelter," a covert named that could be easily referred to on the surface, above ground. It had quickly become the most popular of all the buildings of the underground for him and others like him, as it was easily the safest and largest. In addition, it lay just under - a full 300 feet under - the city of Phoenix, Arizona. This was only one of hundreds of compounds that none other than the United States government had built for his kind, all of which were either connected by a series of tunnels if they were close, or by their own transportation system, via a magnetically levitated train, capable of speeds up to six hundred miles per hour.

It all was far more than he himself had ever dreamed possible, and all these modern commodities easily surpassed anything he had personally owned, lived in, or experienced while living up above ground. Prior to settling down in the earth, he had experienced his share of bargain motels and nights alone under bridges or in alleyways, suppressing his now instinctual urges and stealing and pick-pocketing for money and food. That all had changed since coming here. Well, for the most part. He still enjoyed thieving whenever possible.

"Velganos," called a man to him from over by the water fountain who appeared to be around his age. "It's dusk! Are you going out tonight? It's a full moon, you know..." His voice trailed off as his lips formed a menacing smile.

Vel grimaced before he turned around to face the man addressing him. "Yes," Velganos answered shortly, patting the slight bulge from the canister in his pocket. "I think I will."


~


"You're not serious?" asked the scrawny, short man - though one could hardly call him a man. He was perhaps in his early twenties and still in college.

The woman sitting across from him, far the contrast in appearance, with her tall, slender, yet curvy body, nodded slowly, a tantalizing smile present on her rouge lips. "Oh, but I am."

Beyond her noticeably pale, almost sickly complexion, she was a sight to be had, and often was, by countless men within the crowded bar that night. Her medium-length brown hair was perfectly straight and often concealed one of her equally brown eyes, causing her to lift a finger, sweeping it away with sensual grace, then returning her hands onto the black hardwood veneer tabletop, she would tap her long nails in a seductive fashion in front of this mistake of a man.

"R-Really?" stuttered the man sitting across from her. "Well, alright, but I don't have a car. I just called a taxi, b-but I can go to the pay phone now and get another one!"

Taxi? A pay phone? This human was even more of an embarrassment than she had thought.

"No, there's no need," the woman replied quickly. "We can...go 'round back." She softly placed one of her slender hands on his, causing him to jerk nervously. "I think that should be more than fine. Don't you?"

"Back?" the small man questioned in a high-pitched voice which she thought suited him. "Y-Yeah," he laughed uncomfortably. "That'd work! Let's go then. I mean, if y-you're ready?"

The brunette had to make a conscious effort to not roll her eyes in humiliation. "Quite."

With her male escort, who was even shorter than she, the woman exited the bar, consequently causing a number of the more attractive men to offer her an array of questionable looks. The couple made their way around back. It was only around seven o'clock or so, yet the streets of Phoenix were already filling up this pleasantly warm Friday night.

Once the two were in the privacy of the back of the pub, out of sight, the man started to turn around to face her, asking, "Um, what was your name again?"

"Syrena," she replied, a less than fake grin on her face now.

Before he turned around fully, Syrena threw out her arm with such force, that it caused the frail, little man to fly up into the air and land up against the brick wall. Before the confused man had time to stand, she pulled him up, lifting him with one hand off the ground, so that he was eye-level with her. His expression turned to utter fear as she gazed into his frightened wide-eyes.

"I always love a cheap meal."

With that, Syrena, whose white fangs were clearly more evident now, sank into the man's thin neck, sucking the blood from his veins, allowing the warm fluid to caress the back of her tongue until every last drop had been drank.

"Ah," said the woman, appearing no older than a mere eighteen, throwing down the lifeless body near the dumpster. "Well that was a nice appetizer." Turning her attention back towards the busy streets, whose street lights just flickered on, she grinned wickedly. "Now time for the main course."

Her long strides were confident, a reflection of her straight posture and high chin. The young woman was filled with more self esteem than any others her age (or rather, what appeared to be her age), so much so, that it almost seemed unnatural, giving her the appearance as if something was just off about her, something unusual. None the less, the girl turned heads from boys and men of all ages as she strolled down the sidewalk that evening. It filled her with exuberance when the occasional car would honk its horn at her or a stranger passing by would whistle or make some remark. She loved the attention. She had lived longer than a lifetime, but one thing this young woman had never grown tired of was the way people - both men and women - observed her with anxious, flirtatious, and jealous eyes, unable to resist the slight chance that she would perhaps meet their gaze in return.

This was the way that Syrena thought and the way that she perceived herself. It was not that far off from the truth, but gave her the overwhelming sense of arrogance and a vain appeal. She had not a care in the world, for she was over 300 years old and feared not even death.

Rounding a corner and entering a small alleyway, the girl, whose wicked brown eyes flashed slyly, leapt up into the air with ease and poise, landing with more grace than even a cat could muster atop an anonymous building. She broke into a run, gliding from rooftop to rooftop, her elevation increasing with each building, as she darted and flew, eventually reaching the higher of the buildings, whose roofs dared to pierce the very sky itself. The lower clouds of the night had kissed the rooftops that Syrena shot through, dampening her crimson camisole and dark wash skinny jeans.

Suddenly, just as quickly as she had accelerated, she stopped, pausing. She focused her ears, which far surpassed any human's, honing in on the area where the near silent gunshots had been fired. She gazed out across the city, but the sound had not been born there. Rather, its location she pinpointed to one of the nearby buildings, somewhere from the rooftops not far.

Curious, she thought to herself, and continued on in search of a bit of excitement, unsure of all that this night had yet to reveal to her.


~


The ride to the surface was surprisingly short, or at least, it would have been surprising, had he not have familiarized himself with the passage countless times prior. The steel, oval elevators were all but silent and smooth, operating on a completely different scale than those on the surface. Feeling privileged, Velganos thought himself one of the few lycans to appreciate all that had been given to them, provided by their great government. True, he thought, they did only spend millions of the tax payer's dollars on all this to simply get them out of the public's hair, but in the process, they had granted his kind (along with the vampires, whom he chose not to reflect on regularly) a peaceful, safe place that was extraordinarily contemporary and appealing.

Once the elevator's doors opened, an equally modern room with glass, steel, and marble was revealed to him. It was the headquarters of Primal United, a facility owned and operated by the very teams of government, or the subdivisions to be precise, that had pulled for their subsurface cities in the first place. Primal was, to the public, a government corporation which focused on trade - a Trade and Development Agency which "advances economic development and U.S. commercial interests in developing and middle income countries. The agency funds various forms of technical assistance, early investment analysis, training, orientation visits and business workshops that support the development of a modern infrastructure and a fair and open trading environment." However, behind the public's eyes, their true nature was human-interspecies relations. Primal United, simply put, was a association that united both vampires and lycans and who were the highest agency in charge of dealing with all legal matters concerning the two.

Velganos stepped out to be greeted with the recognizable scene of numerous business men and women about, completely wrapped up in their own personal agendas. The building itself mirrored the one below, in that the place stretched upward forever, a glorious skyscraper whose various levels housed unknown mysterious to Vel. Though the atmosphere wasn't all that dissimilar from that below, he still, to this day, couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that was ever persistent in his brain.

Walking wasn't a favorite pastime of his. Unlike some of his kind, whom had walked since their own day, back long before vehicles were ever invented, he had embraced all that technology had to offer. Of course, that isn't to say that he actually bought his own car. After regrettably feeding on a man who, more than likely, had no family to return home to (for he was dressed in the finest suit, drove the finest car, and was on his way home past midnight - clearly, he, at least in Vel's opinion, was not supporting a family), Velganos had made the best of the situation by allowing himself to take the now devoured man's car - a bright red 2005 Lamborghini.

The engine growled and hummed with the turn of the key. It was hard not to smile, at least slightly, with the purring of his prized vehicle. Stepping on the gas, Vel squealed out of the parking lot behind the looming building and flew out, disappearing down the street. Looking up, the moon was almost nearly fully visible now as the sun was setting in the west. The change would come before he had arrived. Thankfully, his windows were nearly black, tinted darker than the legal limit for the state of Arizona.

It happened at a stop light. The beast within him erupted, overtaking his physical form. Howling in agony, all Vel could do was clutch the wheel, his white knuckles sprouting fur within moments. Hastily, he removed his clothing, not wanting it to tear and rip to shreds as it often had in the past. Throwing it on the passengers seat, he sat there for but a moment, naked. All of the sudden, the realization occurred to him - he would be too big to fit in his seat. Thinking quickly, a hand flew down to the seat adjustments and he pushed it as far back as it would allow, leaving room for his enormous wolf body. By the time the light turned green and traffic began moving again, he was completely transformed.

The den was on the outskirts of town. The forest was a nature preserve, untouched in its majority by the public. It was the perfect place. He screeched his tires as he swung into a place to park his car, sliding somewhat as he did so - a signature 'hello' of his, which allowed those already present within the den to become aware of his presence.

Kicking the door open, which flew upward in its famous signature fashion, the large, white wolf fell out, causing the sports car to bounce up from the weight that it had been relieved of. Shaking his head, Velganos peered up, staring at the entrance only he and his pack knew of. To the average eye, it appeared to be nothing more than an old bunker, perhaps for a war, that had been closed and boarded up for many years. He of course knew better.

Letting an excited bark escape his jaws, Vel stammered towards the entrance and forced his way in, shoved the thick door closed behind him and emerging into the near pitch black entrance hallway, the sudden cool temperature change from the underground causing his fur to stand up. He payed little attention to the large conference-type rooms off to his sides and instead continued on straight, headed for one large meeting area he knew the rest of the pack would be. Would they all be transformed by now to?

The great white wolf stood on his hind legs before entering the room, which in turn caused him to walk with an almost petrifying lumber. He was here. He was home.

A Segment From: Paths of Destiny's Crossing

It was late afternoon and the sun was barely visible now across the sky, struggling with every ray of light to shine through the dense foliage of the jungle canopy, creating dots and patches of light across the mossy earth. Creatures of all sorts contributed to the chorus of sound and natural melody that was easily heard all the way from the Rebel Outpost down to Booty Bay. On the western side of Stranglethorn Vale, the ocean hugged the coast, rising and falling up the beaches with each new wave. Guarding the eastern most point of the jungle were mountains, housing numerous strange and dangerous caverns.

At the southern tip of Stranglethorn, down at the docks of Booty Bay, making various purchases and restocking her knapsack, was a very peculiar being, blue-skinned and tall, easily towering over the goblins and even standing higher than any human. She was a draenei, an alien to this world, though she and others like her were quickly making this their new, and hopefully permanent home. Her name was Ilandi and it was clear just by the way she dressed that she was a hunter, though one might be more inclined to believe so by the rather large gun she somehow managed to carry. Her hair, adequately short, too was blue, though darker than her skin tone. Eyes white and appearing to be shining with some otherworldly light, she was really quite a sight. The draenei stood on two hooves and playfully allowed her short tail to sway behind her with each step she took. To some humans, she might have appeared odd or even intimidating. To her own kind though, she was a sight of pure beauty, ageless and delicate.

"Please," Ilandi spoke with growing desperation, "you must have some sort of ammo here. You're a weapon smith, are you not?" she asked in her native gypsy-like accent. "My bandolier, as you can clearly see, is rather light."

"Nope, sorry," replied the little goblin in an uncaring tone. "Only weapons. You can buy that sorta stuff some place else. Now leave me be!" he ordered in a rude sort of tone.

Ilandi glared at him with dislike, but didn't say another word. She motioned to her companion, a black wolf by the name of Graev, and the two left the building in search of another where they might be able to find more ammunition for her gun.

Booty Bay was confusing, to say the least. The entire town was composed of different layers of wooden docks and planks leading up and down to one another. Finding one particular place was nearly impossible unless you already knew your way around town. Ilandi was finding it difficult to even achieve any sort of help in being guided through the place. Usually, she had quickly found, there were guards at each city willing to help travelers find their way through the town. If there was such a thing here, she was too unfortunate to even find them. Browsing each individual shop, she at last came upon a place on the upper part of town that could repair a few of her items that had been worn and used. Her armor had withstood battle on more than one occasion as of late, and was in need of some attention. Unfavorably though, she was forced to wait for them to be finished before she was able to continue her search for more bullets. Unsuccessful, the draenei, heaving a sigh of utter disappointment, made her way to the lowest part of the town and down to a small goblin standing atop a wooden box who had acquired quite a little crowd of people. He was an auctioneer, she had realized. Then perhaps, Ilandi thought to herself, he would be selling some ammo.

Approaching the small creature, she waited with the utmost patience as he sold off items of varying types to those amongst the small crowd, until at last, she asked loudly above the other's voices, "Do you have any ammunition?"

"No!" cried the little green goblin coldly and continued on with his business.

She was starting to think that not only the locals of Booty Bay were rude, but that they also didn't sell the one thing she really needed. Accepting defeat for now, the proud draenei turned around and walked back up to the hotel, followed closely by Graev. He would snarl every so often at the passerby's who would stare at him for just a moment too long, sending shivers up their spines before turning around and acting as if nothing had happened. He was, for the most part, a solitary and indifferent wolf with a nature for being cool towards those he was unfamiliar with. Ironically enough though, he and Ilandi had become very close right away. Perhaps it was the fact that she had just lost her prior guardian and he could sense her loneliness, just as she could sense his own. He was, after all, a lone wolf before becoming her companion. Now, amongst the crowds of Booty Bay, the black wolf felt claustrophobic and as if he had no room to even so much as breathe. Despite the whine or whimper every so often though, he managed to put up with it.

Entering the Inn, Ilandi was disappointed but not so surprised to see that it too was just as full of people as the rest of this small shipping town. Graev appeared even more discouraged, lowering his head in angst. If only their luck would change and a room at this strangely tall inn would be open. Approaching the front desk while maneuvering around the varying races that made up the crowd inside, Ilandi was unsettled by the fact that the inn keeper, too, was a goblin. So far, she had not had such great experiences with their kind.

Instead of greeting her with a high-pitched, "Wassap!?" in a raspy voice, this goblin's voice was deep and low as he asked her, "Yeah, whaddya want?"

"May I inquire as to if there is a room free?" she asked with little hope, biting her bottom lip out of anxious habit.

"Well sure," replied the goblin in a sarcastic-type voice. "That'll cost you one gold."

"Gold!?" she exclaimed at the price. "I never even mentioned how long I would be staying!"

"One gold, miss. We're in high demand this season! The price is the same no matter how long you're here for," he explained in a matter-of-face sort of tone.

Ilandi, rolling her eyes as he turned away for a moment, sighed and glanced down at Graev. An intelligent wolf, she had no doubt he knew what was happening, and consequently howled shortly in discontent. "Fine," replied Ilandi with the same stubborn tone. She laid the gold down on the dusty wooden table and, without any further word, turned and began walking up the stairs.

"Hmph!" snorted the goblin as she left.

The first floor housed more of another sitting and meeting area rather than rooms, so the duo carried onward in hopes of stumbling upon some hidden treasure amongst this sailor's town. The third floor was a maze of boards set across the ceiling of the second floor in a real dangerous sort of way. The room they had was inside what literally appeared to be a hole in the wall. Nevertheless, it had to double-sized beds and would more than satisfy their tired feet and weary bodies. For now, this would be their new, but certainly not permanent home.

A Segment From: Arena

"Where are we!?"

Nell sat up with a jolt, her blonde locks dirtied and frayed, a hand immediately going to her forehead, which pounded out of a recent slam to the head. Peering across the small and utterly cramped and foul-smelling cage nestled atop an old wagon of equal repulsion, she met the eyes of the other Kirathavan women and men. They appeared wide-eyed and just as nervous and distraught as they had when they were captured and placed within the confines of the now rotting, yet surprisingly still sturdy, cage that enclosed them and kept them breathing down one another's necks. Seeking answers, the young woman of only twenty, attempted to stand, but was forced to crouch, as the top of the cage was far too low and clearly not designed for comfort.

"What happened?" asked Nell, her frustration rising at the lack of responses. "How long was I out for? Are we still in Kirathavan...?" Her voice weakened as the last question formed.

"Yes," answered a grave looking man in the opposite corner. "They're taking us to Eboracum."

Grateful for the response, yet taking a bit of offense to the obvious statement, she replied in a snide manner, "Oh, really? Because I thought we were going to Candy Land."

She knew it was more than inappropriate, especially at such a somber and serious time, which was why she turned away in annoyance to gaze out across the valley they were traversing, taking a seat in the only spot available, which was exactly where she was standing.


Nell couldn't be sure just how long it had taken the Eboras to drive their horse-drawn carts of soon-to-be slaves back to their own country. She had lost count of days rather quickly, as she found herself weakened by the lack of food and water and space to move around in. She, like the rest of the captured peoples of the northern country, spent most of her time sleeping. Those that were awake were wishing for sleep, or even death, as their minds wandered to just what lives they had in store for them. She had heard a few women speaking about all the different types of slaves Eboracum had working for them. From what Nell could gather, they enslaved people from all over to do just about anything and everything they wished for them. It was a horrible and sickening thought, and not something she had ever wished to see, let alone experience. Even still, it felt as if it were all just some terrible dream, or nightmare rather, that she would awaken from at any moment.

Yet the nightmare was only just starting. Nell and the others arrived in the port city of Isca in the late day. The city was bustling with crowds speaking in their own native tongues which she herself had no knowledge of. It appeared loud, dirty, and unwelcoming. She almost wished they were still riding on endlessly. Almost.

At last, the wagon stopped, just short of the harbor near a few businesses and not far from the taverns and shops that lined the street in front of the docks. She glanced at the others in her cage. Worn, weary, and already broken, their once fearful expressions now had changed to defeat. For the most part, they all had accepted their fate, to be auctioned off and sold to the highest bidder, or to be handed over to businessmen or wealthy people of power for whatever duties they required. They had given up all hope, now that they were in the Eboracum territory. Perhaps, it was wise to embrace the future that was upon them. In fact, it would be foolish to assume otherwise. However, Nell could not let go so easily. She was a fighter, and always had been.

The Ebora men driving their cart now neared the wooden door. Placing a hand on the lock, the driver eyed them all over, checking them quickly for injuries. Scowling, he sneered at the woman still lying down. It seemed that she had gotten sick on their journey, for she stopped eating a day and a half ago and refused any aid and help from the others. Nell felt sorry, but chose to stay out of anyone's business.

"You, there!" grunted the driver [in poorly spoken Kirathavan with a heavy accent], a hefty man with a scruffy beard and a deep scar over his right eye. "Get up! You damn well better not make me get you up, bitch!" he spewed out ill-temperedly. When the woman still refused to move, the driver turned towards the others. "Well!?" he demanded at them, expecting them to do something. "Get that woman up, or you'll suffer the consequences!"

Nell knew he would never do anything now to harm them, since they were in his possession. If they didn't appear to be in good shape or health, their price would be dropped drastically to potential buyers. Still, the others inside the cage did as they were told and knelt down beside the poor woman, attempting to get her up. Her body was stiff and cold. Suddenly, another woman announced in a shaken voice, "This woman is dead!"

The driver turned back around to face his captives, wearing an even more menacing face, if that were at all possible. He muttered something foul and inappropriate under his breath, raising his arms up behind his head and pacing back and forth, distraught. The other two men that had traveled with him in their carriage appeared equalling vexed, cursing and swearing while thinking of what to do.

It was at this moment, that Nell first noticed the young man. He was tall, semi-muscular, and blonde. He stood out like a fish out of water here at this place. He was just rounding a corner and heading to the great coliseum, along with a number of other men all seemingly marching in line. She studied him, a nagging air of familiarity piercing her mind. As he drew closer, it became clear to her just who it was. Her brother Kalin had left their home over two years ago now, and she nor anyone else that knew him ever found out just what happened to him. Yet now, at this very moment in time, he was here, standing not twenty feet from her, walking past their enclosure.

Calling out his name in a hoarse and dry voice, Nell's endeavors at getting her long-lost brother's attention seemed to be in vain, for he continued on, head down, quiet and seemingly unaware of the nature of things around him. His scaring along his chest and limbs became evident as he past by, along with the others like him. Had he become one of the gladiators from their stories? Is this why he left home? Had he willingly traveled to a barbaric land to participate in some ancient game that would surely kill him in the most gruesome way? Nell had little time to think on it, for their cage door was being opened.

"Come on," growled the driver as he held the door for them, while the other two men clasped their hands in bindings once they reached their brief freedom from the bars. "Get out! Hurry up, now. Let's move!"

Nell followed the others, allowing her hands to be bound, though not without a fierce shot of hatred aimed at their driver who took little, if any, notice, throwing her aside to the rest, looking around at the foreign and unpleasant world before them. Nell took in the city, the people, the noises, the smells. The town was busy with traders, drunkards, and out-of-towners. The arena games were no doubt in season and soon to be, if not already, upon them. So unfamiliar with their country and customs, she had little knowledge of just about anything that was happening in their country. She preferred it that way.

It wasn't long before their cart, as well as the other five that had imprisoned her people, were emptied. The slave drivers split them all up into three groups, each going with different men to different places. Nell saw as a few of the people that she had ridden with for those long and tiresome days were taken with the other groups. Hers was then ushered over to an area set aside for auctioning off items, or, in this case, slaves. There were a few seats haphazardly set up, and an old stand for the auctioneer. Otherwise, the people stood in a small alleyway behind a few buildings in a clearing. The crowds gathered quickly once they noticed the fine blonde-haired Kirathavan woman which made up her group. She never did see just what they had chosen to do with the now dead woman, but she could only imagine that it didn't consist of a respectful burial.

"Come now! Have a gander at these fine broads! I assure you, they are all genuine Kirathavans!" announced the auctioneer, a man in his late forties and missing a few teeth. His suit jacket, brown and tattered, wasn't fooling anyone. "They all arrived just today and are yours for the taking! Here, look at this one," called the auctioneer to the gathering audience, holding up the chin of a woman in her late twenties or so. "She's a mighty fine dame, now isn't she? I'm sure she'd make a lovely cook or perhaps even a fine mistress!" He chuckled loudly and received some dirty laughs from the men within the audience. "Now then! We'll start with this one here," he said, pulling the same woman up towards the podium.

The bidding went by fairly quickly, as each new woman the auctioneer pulled up was sold to a businessman looking for more slaves for his work or a home owner wishing for a maid. In comparison to their journey, the auction went by far too quickly for Nell's liking, as she was forced to witness the other ladies, some even younger than herself, be taken away, probably never to be seen again. Her time had come though, as the auctioneer turned to her, his rouge cheeks puffed out from the near permanent grin plastered on his wrinkled face.

"Come on up here!" he called to her in Eboracum. Though Nell had no idea just how much each of the girls were going for or just what was being said, it didn't take anyone of exceptional intelligence to understand what they wanted when they spoke to them. "Let's see..." he trailed off, examining her rather quickly, almost admiringly. "Yes, this one is quite a fine prize! I see those boys are doing their jobs looking for some first-class slaves for you good people! She is young, this one. She would make for a great little companion now, wouldn't she!?"

The crowd of Eboracum people, now even larger than before, consisting of many people without the money to pay for a slave simply there to watch the auction, watched her with greedy eyes. It was clear they felt no pity for her. Her humanity was nonexistent to them, for she was merely just one of thousands of slaves. The bidding for her ended with a battle between a man in the front row wearing a top-hat and business suit and a thin, balding man towards the middle. It ended with the business man as the highest bidder. He bowed respectfully to his competition before turning back around to face his new slave, grinning out of victory. He was no more than thirty-five or so years old, with long dark hair and cleanly shaven. Successful, as he no doubt was, he carried himself as such naturally, walking up to Nell, head held high, and eyes scanning her over like some prized chicken.

"Come," he hissed in a low voice in her own language. Surprised, though not entirely taken aback, Nell followed, scared to think what may happen if she refused. Like a dog, she left with the businessman, staying close to his side, eyes narrowed in dislike.

"You best not try anything, vermin," he said abruptly over his shoulder to her as they walked at a brisk pace down the streets. Nell scowled up at him, wanting so badly to come back at him with some nasty remark, but, with much effort, held her tongue. When she accidently bumped into him as they entered a crowded alley, he spun around to face her, quite cross. "Never make the mistake of putting your filthy hands on me again! You are nothing here, you understand me? Your place is as a servant girl in my household." He had little accent in his speech, and Nell guessed it was because he and his family owned many slaves throughout his lifetime, and had picked up their language over the years. "You are a disgusting rat and it shames me to now think I am out in public with your filth all over my fine suit! Now come!"

So completely stunned at the rude and outrageously disrespectful way she was being treated, Nell couldn't even form words in her head at the shock of being treated in such a hurtful manner. With tear-filled eyes, she reluctantly followed him down the cobblestone streets, through the alleys, and all the way back to his exceedingly large mansion which lay atop a hill on the outskirts of town.

To her utter dismay, this was only day one of her life now in Eboracum. She was, if nothing else, comforted by the thoughts that her older brother, whom she had admired and looked up to growing up, was here, in this very town. Her thoughts and dreams lay with him for the rest of the evening.

A Segment From: Arena (continued)

It wasn't the soft sound of footsteps outside her door leading in to her small yet livable quarters [fashioned even with the latest decorating trends of the Ebora people] that caught her attention, nor was it even the sound of the delicate creak of the door that awoke her that evening. No, none of this tore Nell from her deep slumber since, for the first time in many long nights, she was finally able to rest in a bed, not long after being permitted to shower (to wash whatever filth she could off her, as the people of the household had said).

Instead, it was the hushed familiar voice that startled the young woman awake. Peering across the darkened room that sat at the far end of the mansion on the top floor, along with other rooms for their slaves, Nell wondered just what time it was, for she felt as if she had only just fallen asleep. Was she dreaming? Did she really hear the voice of someone? Allowing time for her eyes to adjust to the dim bedroom and become accustomed to now being open, she finally caught sight of the figure standing in front of the now closed door.

He was in his nightly attire, soft clothing of a solid navy color, save for the golden stitching that laced the sides. His hair, straight, long, and dark, was perfectly styled, and his cool eyes echoed the reflection of the moon shining in through the small window. The man stood there for a moment in a solid and no doubt taught posture, staring back at Nell, the majority of his body hidden in the shadows.

Sitting up, she knew this was no dream. Before Nell could form a question to ask, he spoke. "Take off your clothes." His words were monotone and uncaring, as cold as the glare of his eyes.

It became clear that this was, in fact, the very businessman that had purchased Nell at the auction earlier. His rude and arrogant tone was unmistakable. "No," was all she responded with, in a challenging sort of manner.

The man, Ralph, whose name she had only come to know by hearing it through the heads of house speaking it when addressing him, suddenly abandoned his spot near the door, approaching her threateningly. "You will do as you are told," he instructed, staring her down, their eyes never leaving the other's. "Now, take off your clothes," he repeated in an even harsher and sterner tone.

Unsure of how to react, Nell suddenly felt an eerie fear overcome her as her body slowly came out of its sleep-like state. She felt more aware of things now, but nonetheless, was still very exhausted. Her challenging expression changed to that of a pleading, a single tear spilling over her soft, untouched rosy cheek. Her innocence was hanging on a thread, as Ralph sat himself on the bed with her, a calming yet pompous nature evident in his actions. He lifted a hand to the back of her neck, then allowed it to glide down her shoulder over to her long, wavy blonde hair. He played with it, twirling it around in his fingers while she watched in uneasy panic. Ralph then moved his arm behind her back, pulling her in closer to him. She was so confused, so unsure why this was happening. Hadn't he had told her only hours ago now that he didn't want her "filthy hands" touching him?

Ralph's gaze lingered in inappropriate spots on her body. A slight yet evident smile formed on his thin lips as he held the Kirathavan girl in his grasp. "Shh," he said quietly, "let's not make this any harder than it needs to be."

Frowning, Nell wasn't sure how to react. She knew if she screamed, no one would come to her aid here. This was his home and she was forced to play by his rules. Just how many other servant girls had he taken advantage of, Nell wondered as he drew her in, only inches away from his thin face. She could make out every eyelash, every freckle, and even took notice of his high cheek bones which seemed to suit his personality perfectly. He watched her for a moment, almost as if expecting her to do something. Did he want her to fight back? Had the other girls fought his advances? His smile grew though once he saw that she wasn't going to put up a fight. Although it was completely unlike her, Nell wasn't feeling all that much like herself for quite some time now. Her breathing quickened, which in turn only seemed to arouse Ralph.

Slowly, he moved his free hand, the one not supporting her back, up to her head, pulling her gently towards him, letting his lips linger for a moment close enough to hers that they tingled. He then embraced her in a deep and more passionate kiss than the young woman ever dreamed possible. His hand played with her hair before moving down to squeeze her shoulder and then arm, before making its way to her legs. Slipping it under her night gown, his greedy hand slid up her leg and began to rub areas she had never allowed anyone prior to even view.

Squealing softly, Nell broke the kiss. "Please," she pleaded helplessly, more tears now falling down her cheeks. "Please... Don't," was all she could think to say.

It was hopeless though, as he only just smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry your beautiful little head," he responded with. It was the first semi-nice thing she had ever heard him say. Was he only attempting to get her to give in? Or was the way he portrayed himself on the street just an act? No, that wasn't possible. "Just lay back," he instructed, "and I will handle the rest."

He kissed her once more before laying her down slowly. Nell receded into the deepest, darkest corners of her mind, escaping the situation in the only way she knew how. She fell into a sort of trance, fading in and out of consciousness of the activities he soon began performing on her. The immediate pain was what kept her in the here and now. She managed her best though at forgetting the torment as Ralph took advantage of her until he was at last satisfied.

When it was finally over, she lay motionless in the now dirtied bed with fluids spilt all over the covers. Nell looked up at him as he dressed himself. When he finished, he looked back at her, his usual disdainful expression now returned.

"May I..." she started, voice trembling, still drawing breath at a heightened pace, "please have fresh sheets...?"

Ralph scowled bitterly. "Rats don't deserve such worthy treatment," was all he said before turning around and disappearing out the door, slamming it behind him as he left.

Nell cried herself to sleep, choosing the floor over the bed. She did not waken until a knock on her door the following morning.

A Segment From: Arena (continued)

The knock on her door came early the following morning, though to Nell, early consisted of anytime during the day, as she felt it possible to sleep all the way up until the next night, her entire body feeble and weakened from the journey to their land and from malnutrition. Thankfully, she had received a small bit to eat for dinner after Ralph had brought her back to his family's estates, but not enough to keep her belly satisfied for long.

The door to her tiny bedroom opened slowly when Nell, hardly even awake enough to move, ceased to respond to the knock. The woman that emerged was in her mid to late thirties, pale-skinned, and with a number of painful looking bruises up and down her exposed and thin arms. She wore a servant's gown, grey and white, with a few patches she no doubt had stitched herself. Perhaps the most noticeable thing though about this woman was her hair - a radiant, never-fading golden blonde. It was possibly the only feature about this now seemingly broken woman that glowed with life persistently.

Upon spotting Nell asleep on the floor beside the bed, the covers a mess, and with a number of unpleasant liquids spilled about along with a few less-than-pleasant smells, the servant woman quickly approached the girl, fearful that she might be hurt after spotting the deep red blood-stained sheets. She placed a hand on her head and felt her pulse on her neck with the other hand. Letting out a sigh of relief, the woman let out a tiny yelp when she noticed Nell's eyes were open and fixated on her.

"Oh! Dear me! You're alright, miss?" questioned the woman in a cautiously low voice in their native Kirathavan. "You had me worried." Her eyes darted dangerously back towards the bed, a worried expression that seemed etched into her face present. "Please try and forget what happened," she said, referring to their night together, offering a bit of advice in a hushed tone, even lower than previous. "If you're lucky, he's had his peace and is moving on to his usual. You're new," she explained to Nell who was sitting up now, wiping the sleep from her stinging eyes. "It's become his way of testing out the new ones. It's his personal mistress, Miss Kara, that he returns to most nights, behind the back of his obscenely blind wife, I'm afraid." By this time, the servant woman was standing, taking the sheets off the bed and putting them in a pile to be washed.

"He's married?" was the first thing that escaped Nell's dry mouth.

The servant woman turned to her, surprised, and then nodded. "Oh, yes. Lady Lorana, is her name. Do not ever cross her. If she were to find out what happened here last night...oh, that would be quite an awful thing, indeed. If you were lucky, you'd be beaten until you vomited blood. If not..." She trailed off, turning her attention to the rest of the sheets which she attempted to fold over to try and hide the unpleasant blood and other repulsive bodily fluids. "You must be getting up now, Miss Nell. You don't want to make Lord Ralph wait. Go shower and clean up, then meet the other slaves down in the kitchen."

"What I am to do?" asked Nell, afraid of the answer. She wasn't handy around the house, and certainly hoped she wouldn't have to be cleaning the entire day. She was tired enough as it was.

"Hasn't he told you?" questioned the servant woman in a shocked voice. "Dear, me... Lord Ralph intends on attending the arena games today. He is taking you with him to accompany him."

Pausing for a moment as if to take it all in, Nell finally responded. "Why?"

Turning to face her, almost irritatedly, the woman replied, "You are his new young Kirathavan slave, sweetie. To attend the games with a slave, especially one that is Kirathavan, is a sign of the utmost power and wealth. You must have seen all the men with their slaves about? It shows their superiority over the rest of the common population."

Unable to refuse, Nell asked, "Couldn't he just purchase an expensive suit and call it a day?"


It wasn't long before Nell was back on the streets alongside the one man in the world she despised to even look at. It took all the effort in her body to not spit at him once she met with Ralph after breakfast (which included quite a big spoonful of some awfully appealing leftover porridge, fit for a slave). She didn't know what to expect when meeting with the man that had forcefully taken advantage of her the night before. She almost hoped he would feel awkward about it and refuse to meet her eyes. Instead though, he acted nearly the exact opposite, wearing a toothy, almost proud grin when she joined him by his side. Lowering his head to speak over his shoulder at her as they walked down the path leading out of their property as Lady Lorana watched with a piercing gaze, he said to her softly, infuriatingly, "Thank you for last night. You were one of the best whose virginity I had the pleasure of taking."

Arriving at the arena, Nell noticed a cluster of still yet to be sold slaves, much like she herself had been, lost, confused, weak, and terrified. She took notice of the clasps around their hands, and the familiar feeling of the metal around her own wrists reawakened in her memory. She rubbed them to try and rid the thought of it from her mind as she and Ralph searched to find their seat in the large and growingly crowded stadium.

"This is it," Ralph said quietly, not wanting the other nobleman to hear him speaking in Kirathavan to his slave. "Sit," he ordered Nell forcefully.

Nell did as she was told, though reluctant, and felt a mixture of negative emotions as she sat so closely to the man, the married man no less, that had taken away her innocence. She watched him out of the corner of his eye, so proud, so incredibly confident in his entire demeanor. He watched as more and more people lined in, scanning the audience as if searching for others of "his kind," almost as if to advertise himself and his success and wealth that he screamed, from his most over-priced top hat, all the way to his shiny leather shoes. Nell felt disgusted and fought to remain quiet as she was in a most unwelcoming public place.

Here is a sample from a zombie role-play I had started back on June 30th, 2008. (Damn, nearly a year ago!)

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July 18, 2010 - 3 Weeks Prior to Zombie Outbreak

The continuous humming of the ventilation fans throughout the maze of the subsurface compound failed not to emanate through to the alcove that lead into the lavatories. Within the private security of one of the many rows of stalls in the ladies' room, this constant buzzing was the only audible background noise, a comfort to the woman who sought solitude within its walls. This was one of the only facilities that went unnoticed by most of the other employees, for it was a remote and an inconvenient location for the majority of those with her clearance level. In addition, these restrooms were sharing the same steel wall with that of Project Edify - one of the most widely-known and infamous experimentation-based researches and testing stations that was being held and conducted on Sublevel 3, the lowest floor that this particular woman, whom was investing her time here, was permitted.

Sitting on the underused toilet, her legs spread apart, the brunette gaped at the small device in her hands, eyes no smaller than tennis balls, studying the reading on the pregnancy test. The digital readout window clearly read, "Pregnant." Setting it down once more on top of the metal toilet paper holder, she watched it ceaselessly, without batting an eye. She had already waited over ten minutes. The directions in her hand stated that the readout may be unclear right away, so it told her to wait until it did become clear. As time went on though, the readout on the test never revised itself, and instead, only became more evident. The word itself was unmistakable.

"Dammit," the woman muttered in hopeless anger. "Three tests," she whispered allowed for only herself to hear, her words helping her mind to reason and think about the situation more logically. "I've taken three now. It must be true... It can't be an error." She paused, gazing up at the stainless steel door, her deep brown eyes unfixed on anything. "I have to tell him."


"Lilah," greeted a man a bit older than she with a well-kept goatee and sideburns clear identification makers on his dark-skinned face. "To do I owe the pleasure?"

Lilah, the brunette woman, stepped into his office once the two bodyguards standing watch outside his door stood aside after hearing the man's confirmation. The office itself was unlike most anything seen above ground, for it was dimly lit, with a few rows of brightness-adjustable LED fixture lighting, no windows or plants, a very modernly-shaped steel chair, a glass desk, reflective flooring, and a very oval-shaped layout. The man, who was head of the Research and Analysis Department, sat at his desk, his hand still on the mouse for his computer.

When the woman, Lilah, made no effort to respond right away, the man stood up, studying her worried face, concerned. He started over to her, narrowing his eyes.

"Is something the matter?" His voice was sympathetic but formidable.

She tempted looking up at him, her small hands still quivering from the shock. "I'm pregnant," she managed to announce, but didn't continue to elaborate on.



August 1, 2010 - Day of Zombie Outbreak

The screaming sirens repeated over and over again in a continual, persistent manner unlike anything Dustin had remembered in the past. The tornado, which he, along with his parents whom he lived with, could only assume it was, must have formed unexpectedly and close. At seventeen, Dustin was outside working at his parents' horse ranch, in which he received pay for his chores rather than taking on any serious jobs while still in school. His parents, too, were outside, completing their own duties which such a way of life demanded. As soon as the piercing sounds of the emergency sirens were carried their way, the family dropped what they were doing and ran straight for their modest house in one of few plots of land in Redding, California.

"Mom!" yelled Dustin, heaving and out of breath, yet preoccupied with his confusion and surge of adrenaline. "What's going on?"

His parents, whom were closer to the house and thus had made it there before their son, were in a panic, gathering flashlights and items of importance. "I don't know," his mother responded with almost absentmindedly. "Now get downstairs! We'll turn on the news," she assured him.

"But--"

"You heard your mother," instructed Dustin's father in his renowned stern tone.

Once in the safety of their basement, the family turned on their small television within their family room, making themselves comfortable, or at least as comfortable as one could be at this point in time, on their couches and chairs. They listened in for what seemed like a century, even occasionally switching between channels to make sure what they were hearing was, in fact, the truth. The sirens still sounded from outside, now growing to become eerie and bestowing Dustin with an arsenal of goosebumps. The reporters on their TV spoke of the "walking dead," and casualties rapidly climbing. They failed, however, to go into any detail over this odd phenomenon which the family themselves were finding hard to believe.

Suddenly, the sirens stopped, drawing their loud ringing to an end.

Within a matter of minutes, odd and loud banging and thumping noises resonated into their basement. Dustin's parents eyed one another and then turned to him, who sat in the back of the room on one of the reclining chairs. They all held their breaths for a moment, hoping it was just the wind, for they never did lock or even close their doors, finding it unnecessary in such an urgent time. The noises, though, persisted, growing louder with each heartbeat. It became quite evident that these mysterious thumps were not the work of merely the wind.

"What's going on?" finally Dustin's father asked in a hushed and anxious voice. His mother tried to shush him, but he stood up, too curious to see what was now upstairs in their household. "This is ridiculous. I will not have thieves breaking in to my house when I'm standing right here!"

Climbing the stairs, Dustin's dad left the two of them uneasy and fearful in the basement. Neither one knew just what to expect. A minute passed, and nothing. Then, a resounding scream that belonged to Dustin's father cried out from somewhere above them. Dustin met his mother's terrified gaze, and the two of them bolted upstairs to the aid of Dustin's father, despite his mother's less-than-best attempts to keep him down in the basement. (Now, as a teenager, Dustin was finding it easier to get away with most anything he wanted, with or without his parent's permission.)

The scene that awaited them was beyond the seventeen-year-old's comprehension. Walls graffitied in blood and their house in disarray with countless things laying about, broken, and out of their places, it was more than just alarming. Rounding a corner into the living room, Dustin closely following his mother, they found his father, laying motionless on the floor, three men of varying ages crouched over him, tearing pieces of flesh right off his bones with their mouths.

Screaming, Dustin's mother nearly passed out, gaging in reaction, throwing her son out of the way. The three unwelcome men, whom she did not recognize, immediately turned towards her, their eyes glazed over and their skin pale, blotchy, and dirtied. They were unlike anything she had ever seen before. Horror-stricken, the mother of two stood there, gazing down upon the man she loved who now was missing key parts of himself. The men themselves neared her at an alarmingly slow pace as Dustin stood aside, watching, unsure what to do.

"Mom!" he yelled, hoping to bring her back down to the earth. "Mom! C'mon!" She failed to respond though, shivering and paralyzed in her spot beside their grandfather clock. "Mom," cried Dustin again with more urgency.

At last, she turned towards him, a look he could not ever attempt to describe etched into her expression. It was at that moment, the zombies grabbed her, one biting down forcefully on her shoulder, drawing blood from an artery. Dustin stood there in terror as he witnessed his mother being eaten alive. Even more horrible, she stared back at him, her eyes large and round, soon tearing up with the pain before they went dark and she collapsed on the floor.

Turning around, Dustin fled, sprinting out the front door. He ran and ran as fast as his long, thin legs would take him, blinded by the oncoming tears that rolled down his soft cheeks. He ran until at last he made it to their stables, stirring the horses with his desperate retreat. Climbing the rafters, his heart now thumping furiously in his head, the boy took shelter behind the stacks of hay, gasping for air.

It was there, that he waited - waited to die, waited to live, waited for this nightmare to end for almost a full day. Once nightfall set in, his older brother, Alaric showed up calling out his name.



She was without any form of transportation once she made it to the surface, like all the rest of the employees had been ordered to do, for reasons still yet unclear to her. Lilah flew in, everyday, to this undisclosed location after driving to a remote parking lot in a city ten miles away. After her shift, the same plane would then transport her, along with the others, back to their vehicles to once again return home, only to be repeated again the following day. Now, however, the plane was nowhere in sight as the bare runway lay abandon before them. Hundreds upon hundreds of workers roamed the outside wasteland somewhere in northern California, hoping that the plane would arrive shortly to rescue them from this unfamiliar place. The sound of its engines though never broke the sinister silence.

As the crowd of workers began to grow louder in anger and panic, someone grabbed Lilah's arm, pulling her aside. It was David, the head Researcher whom she had spoken with in secret quite a lot recently in light of their situation.

"Come," he said quietly. "I have my car around back." He motioned behind the warehouses which lined the above-ground region of Area 107.

She wanted to ask him for advice, for what to do and why everyone was being forced out of their safe haven of an underground when this outbreak was spreading. All she could muster though was, "Where are we going?"

"Sacramento," he responded with.



August 15, 2010 - 3 Weeks Following Zombie Outbreak

Somehow, Lilah had secured her position within the confines of the police station, like so many others were trying to do. The crowd outside only grew bigger as more and more people, frightened, hurt, and frustrated banged on the doors protected by metal bars to keep the rest out. The station itself was now full to the brim with civilians and policeman alike, making it difficult to breathe and even more difficult to move. Cops stood at the front doors with guns, all armored up in their bullet-proof vests.

Lilah sat, drained, at the end of an office up against the wall towards the back. Their food supplies were running short. She had only been there for five days now, but had planned on using this building as a temporary sanctuary. David had told her that there was something here, in Sacramento, that could protect them, a "sister branch" to Area 107, he called it. However, David wasn't so lucky in making it even this far, as his body was carried away by a mob of hungry undead, forcing Lilah to find shelter on her own, confused, lost, and unsure of their current situation. She had gone with him in hopes of finding a place to wait it out. After all, she had no family. It was only her and her unborn child now that she had to worry about.

The station itself was dark, as the power had gone out all over town almost a week ago now. Thankfully, there was still running water and the police radios were up and running, which kept the people occupied, though didn't help to ease their minds. The news reports on the radio kept them updated on the current situation, some taking an almost optimistic approach, while others spoke of Doomsday. While no one in the station so far had appeared to be infected, Lilah didn't feel comfortable speaking with anyone as she huddled in her corner, concentrating on the radio.

Though many things were still unclear, one thing was certain - that the zombies had, in fact, appeared again, and this time their numbers were spreading throughout the country like wildfire.