Boca Admins (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bocadelmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bocadellogs2024-03-25 06:25 pm
bocadelmods) wrote in bocadellogs2024-03-25 06:25 pm
Entry tags:
Event 1 - Saving the Slayer
Prelude
In the eerie shadows of the Hellmouth, whispers of impending doom reverberate through the streets of Sunnydale. The Powers That Be control the narrative, leaving us mere mortals grasping at the fragments of truth they deign to bestow upon us. Among these fragments lies the unsettling absence of our fellow warrior, the formidable Slayer Yvonne, vanished without a trace.
In a town fraught with perils, where the malevolent Bringers skulk in the darkness, the disappearance of a Slayer is more than a cause for concern—it's a beacon of dread. We're left to grapple with the harrowing possibility of kidnapped comrades, snatched from our midst by forces unseen and unfathomable. Our directives are clear: brace ourselves for the worst while clutching onto hope like a lifeline in a tempest-tossed sea.
Intel filters through the ranks, a whispered warning of the Bringers' sinister machinations. They seek to rend the fabric of reality, to unseal the very essence of darkness that festers beneath the surface of Cleveland. And in their nefarious designs, they crave the lifeblood of a Slayer, a conduit to unleash their cataclysmic chaos upon the world.
Yet amidst the turmoil, glimmers of hope emerge like beacons in the night. Some among Team Good, blessed with prophetic dreams or visions that pierce the veil of uncertainty, receive cryptic messages that hint at Yvonne's whereabouts. Whether it's a celestial sign etched in the stars or a whisper on the wind, these omens offer a sliver of possibility in the face of overwhelming odds.
The response to these omens varies, a reflection of the diverse tapestry of personalities that compose our ragtag band of heroes. Some seize upon these clues with fervent determination, weaving them into the fabric of their strategy with unwavering resolve. Others, burdened by skepticism or haunted by the specter of past failures, cast these signs aside, clinging instead to the tangible realities of the present.
In the crucible of battle, where the line between victory and defeat blurs like smoke in the night, every decision carries weight. Whether guided by intuition, prophecy, or sheer desperation, each member of Team Good navigates the treacherous landscape of uncertainty, bound together by a common purpose: to defy the darkness and stand as a beacon of light in the gathering shadows of the night.
The Showdown
Destiny, in its quirky way, has led you to this quaint eatery nestled under the ominous moniker of The Haunted House. Despite its claim of serving up only spine-tinglingly delicious cuisine, the décor tells a different tale—one adorned with relics of horror, each piece a testament to the macabre fascination of its patrons. Among the eerie ambiance, weapon props from iconic slasher flicks adorn the walls, a chilling reminder that in Sunnydale, even a casual meal comes with a side of the supernatural.
Outside, Bringers lurk in the shadows like silent sentinels, their presence a stark warning of the dangers that lie within. Yet, fortune smiles upon you as the guard stationed at the entrance succumbs to a well-placed blow, opening a pathway into the heart of the restaurant. As you step over the threshold, a palpable shift in the atmosphere envelops you, a prelude to the looming confrontation that awaits.
Within the dimly lit interior, Bringers stand vigilant, their ominous silhouettes poised for battle. But for those who prefer to leave the heroics to the chosen Slayers and their otherworldly adversaries, a different mission beckons—an urgent quest to locate the missing Yvonne, a fellow warrior ensnared in the clutches of darkness.
Navigating through the labyrinthine corridors of The Haunted House, your senses attuned to the slightest whisper of danger, you heed the advice whispered among the ranks: follow the echoes of distress, the haunting symphony of Yvonne's cries. They lead you, like a siren's call, to the heart of the restaurant, where the pantry holds the secrets of her captivity.
Yet, this rescue mission is no mere snatch-and-grab affair. The stakes are higher, the peril more profound. For within the confines of this seemingly innocuous establishment, a sinister plot unfurls—a plan to breach the very fabric of reality itself. The Bringers, unwitting pawns in a larger game of darkness, seek to unleash chaos upon the world by unsealing a forbidden seal.
As you stand on the precipice of this unfolding nightmare, the weight of responsibility bears down upon your shoulders. Every step forward is a gamble, every decision a calculated risk. For in the battle against the forces of darkness, victory is not guaranteed, and the price of failure is too ghastly to contemplate. With determination set like flint in your gaze, you press onward, ready to confront the horrors that lurk within The Haunted House and emerge victorious, if fate permits.
The Sneak Attack
The night unfurls with a shattering symphony, the sound of breaking glass echoing through the lobby of the Doubletree Hotel. A jagged rock, propelled with malicious intent, cleaves through the air, punctuating the tranquility of the March evening with a violent intrusion. As the shards of glass rain down, a chilling gust of cold air sweeps through the breach, carrying with it the foreboding presence of the supernatural.
In the wake of the shattered entrance, a horde of vampires materializes, their grotesque visages twisted in sinister delight. With fangs bared and malevolent intent burning in their eyes, they surge into the hotel like a tide of darkness, their predatory instincts honed to a razor's edge. Eight, maybe ten of them, their forms a blur of motion as they lay siege to the unsuspecting sanctuary.
It's a scene straight out of a nightmare, and as chaos reigns supreme, the harsh reality of the situation dawns upon those caught in the fray. In the frantic rush to orchestrate tonight's daring rescue mission, the hierarchy of the Slayer ranks has been laid bare, exposing the fatal flaw in their strategy. The seasoned warriors, the vanguards of the battle against evil, have been deployed to the front lines, leaving the inexperienced and untested to guard the hotel—a tactical misstep with dire consequences.
As the skirmish unfolds with brutal swiftness, the harsh truth becomes painfully evident. In the blink of an eye, one of the fledgling Slayers, her courage outweighed by her inexperience, falls prey to the ravenous hunger of a vampire's embrace. The sickening sound of tearing flesh mingles with her anguished cries, a grim testament to the merciless brutality of the undead.
Yet, even in the face of overwhelming odds, hope flickers like a lone candle in the darkness. Amidst the chaos and carnage, a glimmer of opportunity presents itself—a chance to turn the tide of battle, to wrest victory from the jaws of defeat. With grim determination, you steel yourself for the harrowing task ahead, knowing full well that the fate of the hotel—and perhaps even the world—hangs in the balance.
For this is not merely a skirmish, but a full-blown fustercluck of epic proportions, a clash of forces beyond mortal comprehension. In the crucible of conflict, alliances will be tested, courage will be measured, and sacrifices will be made. But through it all, the indomitable spirit of good endures, a beacon of hope in the gathering darkness of the night.
The Aftermath
Wildcard - What can your character be found doing after the battle?
In the eerie shadows of the Hellmouth, whispers of impending doom reverberate through the streets of Sunnydale. The Powers That Be control the narrative, leaving us mere mortals grasping at the fragments of truth they deign to bestow upon us. Among these fragments lies the unsettling absence of our fellow warrior, the formidable Slayer Yvonne, vanished without a trace.
In a town fraught with perils, where the malevolent Bringers skulk in the darkness, the disappearance of a Slayer is more than a cause for concern—it's a beacon of dread. We're left to grapple with the harrowing possibility of kidnapped comrades, snatched from our midst by forces unseen and unfathomable. Our directives are clear: brace ourselves for the worst while clutching onto hope like a lifeline in a tempest-tossed sea.
Intel filters through the ranks, a whispered warning of the Bringers' sinister machinations. They seek to rend the fabric of reality, to unseal the very essence of darkness that festers beneath the surface of Cleveland. And in their nefarious designs, they crave the lifeblood of a Slayer, a conduit to unleash their cataclysmic chaos upon the world.
Yet amidst the turmoil, glimmers of hope emerge like beacons in the night. Some among Team Good, blessed with prophetic dreams or visions that pierce the veil of uncertainty, receive cryptic messages that hint at Yvonne's whereabouts. Whether it's a celestial sign etched in the stars or a whisper on the wind, these omens offer a sliver of possibility in the face of overwhelming odds.
The response to these omens varies, a reflection of the diverse tapestry of personalities that compose our ragtag band of heroes. Some seize upon these clues with fervent determination, weaving them into the fabric of their strategy with unwavering resolve. Others, burdened by skepticism or haunted by the specter of past failures, cast these signs aside, clinging instead to the tangible realities of the present.
In the crucible of battle, where the line between victory and defeat blurs like smoke in the night, every decision carries weight. Whether guided by intuition, prophecy, or sheer desperation, each member of Team Good navigates the treacherous landscape of uncertainty, bound together by a common purpose: to defy the darkness and stand as a beacon of light in the gathering shadows of the night.
The Showdown
Destiny, in its quirky way, has led you to this quaint eatery nestled under the ominous moniker of The Haunted House. Despite its claim of serving up only spine-tinglingly delicious cuisine, the décor tells a different tale—one adorned with relics of horror, each piece a testament to the macabre fascination of its patrons. Among the eerie ambiance, weapon props from iconic slasher flicks adorn the walls, a chilling reminder that in Sunnydale, even a casual meal comes with a side of the supernatural.
Outside, Bringers lurk in the shadows like silent sentinels, their presence a stark warning of the dangers that lie within. Yet, fortune smiles upon you as the guard stationed at the entrance succumbs to a well-placed blow, opening a pathway into the heart of the restaurant. As you step over the threshold, a palpable shift in the atmosphere envelops you, a prelude to the looming confrontation that awaits.
Within the dimly lit interior, Bringers stand vigilant, their ominous silhouettes poised for battle. But for those who prefer to leave the heroics to the chosen Slayers and their otherworldly adversaries, a different mission beckons—an urgent quest to locate the missing Yvonne, a fellow warrior ensnared in the clutches of darkness.
Navigating through the labyrinthine corridors of The Haunted House, your senses attuned to the slightest whisper of danger, you heed the advice whispered among the ranks: follow the echoes of distress, the haunting symphony of Yvonne's cries. They lead you, like a siren's call, to the heart of the restaurant, where the pantry holds the secrets of her captivity.
Yet, this rescue mission is no mere snatch-and-grab affair. The stakes are higher, the peril more profound. For within the confines of this seemingly innocuous establishment, a sinister plot unfurls—a plan to breach the very fabric of reality itself. The Bringers, unwitting pawns in a larger game of darkness, seek to unleash chaos upon the world by unsealing a forbidden seal.
As you stand on the precipice of this unfolding nightmare, the weight of responsibility bears down upon your shoulders. Every step forward is a gamble, every decision a calculated risk. For in the battle against the forces of darkness, victory is not guaranteed, and the price of failure is too ghastly to contemplate. With determination set like flint in your gaze, you press onward, ready to confront the horrors that lurk within The Haunted House and emerge victorious, if fate permits.
The Sneak Attack
The night unfurls with a shattering symphony, the sound of breaking glass echoing through the lobby of the Doubletree Hotel. A jagged rock, propelled with malicious intent, cleaves through the air, punctuating the tranquility of the March evening with a violent intrusion. As the shards of glass rain down, a chilling gust of cold air sweeps through the breach, carrying with it the foreboding presence of the supernatural.
In the wake of the shattered entrance, a horde of vampires materializes, their grotesque visages twisted in sinister delight. With fangs bared and malevolent intent burning in their eyes, they surge into the hotel like a tide of darkness, their predatory instincts honed to a razor's edge. Eight, maybe ten of them, their forms a blur of motion as they lay siege to the unsuspecting sanctuary.
It's a scene straight out of a nightmare, and as chaos reigns supreme, the harsh reality of the situation dawns upon those caught in the fray. In the frantic rush to orchestrate tonight's daring rescue mission, the hierarchy of the Slayer ranks has been laid bare, exposing the fatal flaw in their strategy. The seasoned warriors, the vanguards of the battle against evil, have been deployed to the front lines, leaving the inexperienced and untested to guard the hotel—a tactical misstep with dire consequences.
As the skirmish unfolds with brutal swiftness, the harsh truth becomes painfully evident. In the blink of an eye, one of the fledgling Slayers, her courage outweighed by her inexperience, falls prey to the ravenous hunger of a vampire's embrace. The sickening sound of tearing flesh mingles with her anguished cries, a grim testament to the merciless brutality of the undead.
Yet, even in the face of overwhelming odds, hope flickers like a lone candle in the darkness. Amidst the chaos and carnage, a glimmer of opportunity presents itself—a chance to turn the tide of battle, to wrest victory from the jaws of defeat. With grim determination, you steel yourself for the harrowing task ahead, knowing full well that the fate of the hotel—and perhaps even the world—hangs in the balance.
For this is not merely a skirmish, but a full-blown fustercluck of epic proportions, a clash of forces beyond mortal comprehension. In the crucible of conflict, alliances will be tested, courage will be measured, and sacrifices will be made. But through it all, the indomitable spirit of good endures, a beacon of hope in the gathering darkness of the night.
The Aftermath
Wildcard - What can your character be found doing after the battle?
no subject
EDM made him think of Ronan and- he sucked in a breath. He refused to do that right now, he refused to tumble down that rabbit hole when shit already felt fucked without reminding himself of Lynch. "Sounds pretty cool. I love music, and EDM's good for parties." A lot was good for parties, really.
He didn't know how he could be ready, really. Maybe if he'd been raised as a hitman or something, or forced into the family business like his father had tried to do. "That doesn't make me feel better." His tone wasn't accusatory, just...tired. "Is that better or worse? Would they have hated what they became, so it's like- some sort of fuckin' mercy to kill them? Or-" Or could there have been any chance to help, to make things better? He knew he had helped; he'd saved someone's life. But other lives had been ended, and he didn't think they'd 'deserved' it--there just hadn't been any other options.
no subject
Ash slid a hand to find one of Kavinsky's and gave a squeeze. He wasn't going to push him into talking about it but that little inhale of breath, his eyes...there was more going on then what K was saying out loud. Benefits of living a long, colorful life, it's much easier to get a read on people. "We need a drink. Then you'll teach me poker?"
As they walk back to the bar he glances at K and sighs. "How you feel is pretty normal. That's what I was trying to make you feel better about. No one gets thrown into shit like this and isn't fucked up about it. Well...maybe a legit psychopath would be fine with it." He shrugged. "You still helped to save someone."
no subject
It was a small gesture of comfort, the way Ash touched his hand, but it meant more to Kavinsky than he would admit right now. He wasn't sure he'd know how to talk about it while keeping his barbs sheathed. "Hold on- have you never played poker?"
Kavinsky was fucked up about a lot of things; this was just fuel for the fire. But- of all things, he did take some comfort from the idea that if he was messed up about things like this, he wasn't a completely awful person. Contrary, apparently, to popular belief. "Yeah, there's that. That part feels..." He shrugged. "Well, it isn't awful."
no subject
Not that he can turn anyone into what he is with a bite. They are born not made.
Ash belts out a loud laugh. "No. Never played. I've watched. I'm more of a first person shooter or RPG kind of game guy. I do own a small boutique hotel in Vegas...I should probably know how to play poker." He never really thought about that before, that he's never played a game of poker. "Well, that's not completely honest. I have tried to play poker but once people started taking clothes off? I get distracted."
Ash ordered them both a drink. He was usually pretty good about remembering things about people so he ordered what he saw Kavinsky drinking the first time they had met here. "It's not awful. Pretty kick ass, in my opinion. The rest? I don't want to say you get use to it...not everyone does. But, you can do something different. Maybe help in a way that doesn't force you to have to hurt people you don't want to hurt."
no subject
Nodding, slow and thoughtful, he said, "Sounds sorta like Swan. He's one of my friends, fucking loves any kind of shooter games. He can get competitive sometimes, but you know- not in a massive bag of dicks kind of way." RPGs were a little more...fuzzy to Kavinsky. He couldn't say he was sure what games, specifically, fell into that genre besides really obvious ones, but he wasn't feeling inclined to admit that.
But then his thoughts backtracked a bit, snagging on another particular thing. "You own a whole ass hotel in Vegas? I bet that was pricey." He was interested and curious- and then he laughed again. "Yeah, that's kind of the whole point about strip poker." Probably.
It didn't escape his notice that Ash remembered what he'd had to drink before. It was thoughtful in the sort of way Kavinsky wasn't used to, but he didn't dwell on how most people didn't give enough of a single fuck about him. "I dunno- I'm not exactly the nerdy research type." And what other options were there? At least, according to every piece of media he'd ever seen about heroic teams.
no subject
Ash snorts out a laugh. "Not going to lie, I can absolutely be a dick when I get too competitive. But, sometimes, a twelve year old really is being a cunt and needs to know it." He is hardly a good, mature grown up by societies or most adults standards. Sure he plays the part of heroic warrior for his kinds cause but there is a list of red flags that would send most people running. He likes three kids and has no issues with mouthing off to the rest.
"It's not a big hotel, doesn't have a casino. Under two hundred rooms." Usually he would brag. Yet another charming personality trait. He doesn't feel that need with Kavinsky, which doesn't happen often. "Again, with me being honest, for who the fuck knows why...I like talking to you...anyway. Family comes from old money. I've made a lot more on my own. Do a lot of investing and buying property. But, the truth is I did it to impress a chick and because the hotel literally had my name on it. The Cromwell."
There were other reasons he made the move and bought the property. The hotel sits on a piece of land still ripe with the energy his kind protect. That is a secret he has to guard. Throwing money at a whole hotel for a girl fits with his eccentric, silicon valley billionaire persona he hides his real secrets behind.
"If that is the point then maybe I really did win and am actually a great poker player."
For all of the ways he is flawed there are some things he tries to get right. Like how he treats the people in his life. Ash spent years showing he cared by buying things and shoving money at people. Then he lost someone and learned that what mattered was everything else and he started to pay attention. Ash bumps his shoulder into Kavinsky with a soft laugh. "Hey, sometimes the nerds are gorgeous, six foot four men with tattoos and blue eyes. Maybe you are the nerdy research type and you just don't know it yet." He batts his blue eyes playfully at K as he hands him the drink. "You said you have power when we talked before. What could you do with that power that isn't nerdy or hurting people you don't want to hurt?"
no subject
And then he laughed. "I mean, yeah. If someone's out of line, no matter how old they are, no one should be obligated to be nice to them. I guess I should amend that and say he's not a bag of dicks to me or the other guys." And he'd never witnessed Swan play games with strangers, so he couldn't comment on that. He knew Swan could be a dick though, no video games involved, but it was generally because some asshole had been running their mouth.
"Still. I mean-" What did he mean? It wasn't really about the money, only partially about it being in Vegas. "It sounds nice. Probably nicer that it doesn't have a casino, you know? Cozier that way." Because, while he'd never been, he figured casinos were everywhere in Vegas. At this point, he also wasn't surprised to hear that Ash had money--or that he'd done something so extravagant to impress a woman. "The Cromwell's got a nice ring to it. I've done some shit to impress people, too."
He grinned. "I don't think anyone really loses with strip poker, anyway." Unless they were self-conscious, but he hoped someone would be kind enough to themselves to not decide to play if they didn't want to potentially end up in their underwear.
Snorting, amused, he took the drink Ash handed him. "Anyone can be a nerd, and you are gorgeous. I just..." He didn't know if he'd have the patience for research, or feel like he was being as helpful if all he did was dig around in books or the internet. He sighed. "I don't know, there might not be anything I could use it for to help." And he doubted he'd be able to get away with lurking in shady parts of town and eavesdrop or coax information out of anyone who might have it.
no subject
Glancing at Kavinsky he smirks. "Oh yeah? Tell me. Most over the top thing you've done to impress someone."
Tilting his head toward a booth he motions for Kavinsky to follow. If they were playing cards they need a table after all. When his hand bumps against the others Ash finds himself, yet again, curling his hand around K's. "Nerds get out from behind the desk to research, you know. We call that recon. Spy shit. Hacking. Interrogation." He slides into the booth. "Like dealing drugs but with information." Ash snorts out a laugh. "That's a bad analogy."
no subject
"Mmm." Did saving Ronan's life count as an over the top thing to impress him? Maybe the exact method of it, but the actual event...he couldn't have just done nothing, he couldn't have not gone back to check on him. "I dunno. Gave someone a car. Wish I could say he'd been impressed, but-" But he apparently hadn't figured out yet what it took to impress Ronan.
There was something nice about Ash holding his hand, and Kavinsky hadn't fully realized before that such simple physical contact could make him feel so warm. "That's not a bad analogy, actually," he said, after he'd settled into the booth. "And I guess interrogation doesn't always have to be as intense as TV makes it out to be." Someone didn't have to be strapped to a chair and threatened. People could be pumped for information without them even realizing they were giving up shit they shouldn't.
no subject
"A car is a pretty impressive gift. Seriously? He wasn't at least a little impressed?"
Ash likes it too. Likes the warmth from his fingers radiating into his palm. A creature of comfort he craves physical affection, even something as small as holding hands. "Have a feeling you would be good at that sort of work."
no subject
He shrugged a shoulder, struggling between wanting to brush the whole thing off and the urge he always had to talk about Ronan. "Probably not, since he told me I wasn't enough." And Kavinsky was still trying to figure out how he could be enough, what Ronan needed or wanted that he didn't seem to think K had.
The next bit made him laugh though; he couldn't help it. "Yeah? I seem like someone who's good at interrogations?"