The Mortal Instruments {Roleplay} discussion
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Hotel Dumort (Vampire Hideout)
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MOVED - CHECK BIO, Head Moderator of Awesomeness
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Nov 29, 2013 12:40PM
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Vintage posts decayed and rusted to look as dead as their masters stood out in a terribly cold street. Maybe it was the death, as New York had been warm one street before. While poppies breath and idle sounds progress in eerie musk, the choir of five dozen souls hide slyly in their dusty hollows. Status: Undead.
It was the exact opposite of broad daylight in the alley while outside and streetwise, the birds had the gal to sing.
A slumped figure waited in the sun, his hands knotted in his limp hair, his long coat covering his neck. He was the existential equivalent of desolation.
Fira came around the corner, annoyed at the slowness of her fellow brethren. Her hair was tied up into a slightly messy bun, and she had several hairs that curled around her face. She wore her quiver at her side, bow on her back, and seraph blade on her other side. She had several runes carved into her forearms and collarbone, but none around her star-mark. The stele she carried in her hand glimmered in the night; it was a beautiful sea blue. Her face was stone hard, although she looked like she had on a very, very faint smile.(view spoiler)
Passing from the lazy sunlight and into the coldness of the street ahead, Darcelle felt a slow chill travel down her spine. She was no stranger to the unnatural, but here it was strong, stronger than she had felt before. Through the odd beam of misplaced sunlight filtering through cracks in the dilapidated walls on either side, she could make out the shadowy figure of another girl, Fira, making her way in the opposite direction. Darcelle fingered a knife she had tucked into her sleeve. In addition to an array of knives, two crossed seraph blades were strapped to her back. Darcelle stepped into a patch of sunlight, coming to a stop across from a tall man leaning a wall. "Magnus Bane?" she asked, her French roots twisting the words ever so slightly.
Fira nodded to Darcelle, and waited for the answer from the stranger. She fingered the pen that she had stuck in her pocket. Wondering if she should give it back, she shuffled her feet a bit. She was excited, and she could feel adrenaline pumping through her veins.
Unfolding himself to full height, the stranger towered over them as the lanky form of a late teen. Despite his grace and feathery hair which felt unkept by nature, the man had taken ample amounts of eye makeup and racooned himself arched darkness around freaky cat eyes making them the most Marilyn Mason possible. By standard, Warlocks couldn't be changed into vampires so this must have been one at least.
After a little eye contact, he turned on his heel and began lapping for the dark, speaking to them all the while, "I have successfully requested an audience with Maureen's lackies as she's illegal and out of town. Don't thank me just yet," he angled his face so he could see them from the corner of his eye, "If it wasn't for us, they would all be fast asleep." The whole coven in their cubbies.
Fira was startled by his cat eyes, but then she just got curious. She was slightly annoyed for no reason by the six inch difference between their height.
Before the went down to the galleries of the undead he added, looking exasperated and perhaps a little bored (a coldness known in the Warlock kind). "I suppose I should do this before you start getting ideas," said Magnus. "I, Magnus Bane am not here to cater to you. I am not here to heal you. I am doing a completely selfish act, " For two species of Shadown Wolders that I'm pissed off at right now, "If you stab me in the back when my back is turned because you didn't like what you saw in there, please don't make the mistake in thinking that I'll ever help your kind again," he voiced it tightly, sharply cold and edging on the emotionally vacant. Magnus more awfully curled the ends of his fingers around a small glass bottle which he held.
Fira snorted. "What do you think we are, helpless children?" Fira gripped her stele tighter in her hand.
"You cuddly little things," said Magnus amorously. "Now what's your names? Before I make them up for you." Magnus surveyed them intently with his arms crossed and his hip jutting out to the side.
"Fira Dawnstrider." She told him flatly. "And this is Darcelle Nightflame." Fira shoved her stele into her pocket, and shifted her feet to a more comfortable stance.
Danwstrider and Nightflame. Flush new from whatever place they began from. Darcelle's accent could be spotted a mile away, the way she said her 'a' and went up end of sentence but Fira was a mystery. They would be interesting histories to study later. They may have been on his bad list right now but that didn't squander the fact that Shadowhunters made great novels. Some characters, though, were never meant to be brought to life.
Magnus motioned to the vacant seeming building. "Any questions before we meet the family?"
Fira looked over at Darcelle, then said, "How many vampires live here?" She reasoned it to be a good question. It did differ from place to place.
Ticking out his fingers in Chinese multiplication, Magnus counted soundly, a slight frown on his face as he went through the pattern twice."I'd indulge you with it but I don't have the numbers," A blood pact, animated corpses type of shindig. "Safe to say, the only way you're getting out of there if you begin a fight is with another Downworlder's help. Preferably Werewolves but instead you have moi..." Like even he didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
Fira looked at the expression on his face and knew that it was a very large den. "Well then... Should we go in?"
Darcelle had been standing quietly throughout the entire exchange, listening, but saying nothing, only nodding when Fira introduced her. The other half of her attention was aimed at the building, her eyes taking in every piece of it. Darcelle gestured with a dagger towards the entrance. "What are we waiting for?" she said, answering Fira's question with another.
((I noticed that allot of people have French characters. ^^ I'd help you find curses but all the ones I know aren't used in France. It's still cool to see the overwhelming amount of francophone-ness.))They were both so dry to Magnus, he doubted even the vampires would drink from them, lest they find nothing but pure, unaltered macho clinging to the walls of their veins.
Casting his eyebrows up, he continued the trek for the entrance, picking through the route of garbage with violin like stalking.
"That door's painted on."
There were no stairs worth taking, nothing safe from rot. Remembering who was the first vampire to sow those curious seeds, the one which banned stairways was a vague thought at the back of his mind. Something told him he'd known the person once.
Some garbage was pleasant. Not pleasant exactly, garbage never was, but seemingly harmless. Walking through the streets of Chinatown or watching as poverty scavenged of what those with the rich chalice spilled. Those pieces could be made anew into cute octopus plushies and head bands, the reminiscence of a good meal or the wrapping of some child's pleasure.
This garbage was no recycling. It told a million words, all of them beginning and ending with 'macabre'. Recycling was the farthest thing from their minds. There was no cleanliness, no shopping bags. No happiness to this mushroom circle of bones and rotting flesh. It felt like a trailer park married Hans Zimmer's Angels and Demons soundrack and their child was a bloodthirsty pack of age old bone lickers.
Sickly sweet and chilling, they appeared by stink wed to a grimy dumpster at the end of the alley. Magnus considered getting the girls to move it. That was a new low. Casting his wrist out in a flick, the dumpster was pushed aside as if by an invisible crane, tipping a bit in the air before settling to the right soundly. Behind it a spit tunnel.
Magnus lit his hand, letting the fire blaze his face in blue.
"Guard my back, we're entering their territory now," Damn, he sounded like...
((I used a French face claim (just curious, do you know her?), that's why, and I thought it'd be a good chance to work on my French. I take French at school ^^ And I already know a couple of French curses... XD))Picking her way silently through the piles of garbage, Darcelle followed Magnus to a giant dumpster that seemed to fill the air with an almost unbearable stench. With a dagger in each hand, she turned to watch the street devoid of all life - dead or undead.
((What's a face claim?))
((Instead of finding a random picture on the internet, I chose a specific person (they're usually celebrities, models, singers, etc) for the appearance of my character.))
((I've never done that, wow. I've... What's her name? Chances are I don't but if she's a known actress, perhaps. Which curses?
If you ever need help with your French, don't hesitate. I'll probably accidently correct you when I can.
Like 'Dumort'. It's not 'Du mort' it's 'de mort' but you know... it's in the books...))
((Shy'm. She's a singer and dancer. Well, maybe not curses, but not polite words, like merde.Thanks! I noticed that, and it bugged me the entire book through.))
((Merde? ^-^ I'll look into her. I've actually never seen her in my life. It's really cool that you're teaching me about it. The ones I know are like 'Les Cowboys Fringants, Coeur de Pirate, Marie-Mai...'
If Camille has any ounce of French still in her unbeating heart, that sign would have driven her insane.))
There was no point in telling Shadowhunters to be very, very quiet. They were already worth putting bells on.
A field day in a home full of grumpy vampires. Only the insane would walk through that threshold.
((I think she won female francophone artist of the year two years in a row. I'll keep those in mind. ^^))
The blue light from Magnus' hands shone onto her back and illuminated some of the clutter and debris around Darcelle. Nothing moved.
Just like that, a brunette boy awaited them deeper in the entrance. His hair was slicked back, truly contrasting with his gaunt individual motif. Like most vampires, he looked both beautiful and sick. Just sick enough to make a stranger approach and question how they could be of service. The looks helped too.A shadow flickered behind Magnus' cat eyes, the very same kind that had taken over when he'd set the ground rules. He shook it away.
The vampire suddenly stopped looking at the ground from his stand-off point and began gazing at the three newly visiting.
"There will be no fire in the Hotel. No Nephilim neither."
Magnus pursed his lips but didn't douse the flame. He stood flashy, hostile, flamboyant and haughty, intent on keeping all the vampires ten feet away at all times and with determination like that scrawled across his features, the vampire betrayed his own kind. Instead of seeming vampire-like, the boy accepted his explanation before it was even said--like a trained dog.
Magnus at his inmost calm could make a Bond villain role over and bark. Explanations later.
"The aforementioned fire is to keep these two safe while in the Hotel," Magnus motioned to the Shadowhunter girls, "And I assure you, they do need to be here for the talk we're about to have."
A barrier between instigators.
The vampire nodded sagely, oddly perplexed by the presence of the living. "I am Maur," he said to the girls, everything he said was deadpan in a plain American accent, despite it, the pun wasn't forgiven, "I am the tour guide for this evening. You will obey by our rules while within the haunted house. Do not step a foot out of the hallways I bring you. Do this for your own safety."
Fira peered upon the pale, sickly beautiful person. She gazed into his pale violet eyes, and she knew the moment she spotted him that he was a vamp. And a dangerous one. Fira smiled at the boy when he looked at her. She flicked her beautiful hair back. This was one way to lure them in... Although it was a terrible one, and a way Fira hated to kill a being like that.
((Hey, I was wondering if someone took the head vamp Camille?))
((No, I don't think so. Check the Thread. But you do realize that she won't be showing up here?))
((No we didn't. Camille would be killed if she even came in contact with the vamps here!))
((She is the head vamp. I'm sorry it's been awhile since I've read the books.))
((She may be the head vamp, but the coven there is against her. Like I said, she would be killed if she suddenly showed up.))
((Okay. This has changed form when I was the mod. Are you following the book?))
((Um, YES.))((Have you read ALL of the books?))
(Okay, cause I was like "Are you CRAZY?!" Because: She lived a life of luxury and eventually succumbed to feeding on humans. When this was discovered, she was forced to flee, and Raphael Santiago replaced her as acting leader.))
Darcelle doubted their safety was the first thing on this vampire's mind. As Maur - honestly, was death the only thing in this horrid place - turned to lead them down the hall, Darcelle glanced one last time the way they came, taking in all the exits, and then fell into step slightly behind and to the right of Magnus. She knew she was the bodyguard; she didn't know enough about what happened to do any of the talking. But she was fine with that at the moment.
Fira gave a quick fleeting glance over to Darcelle, needlessly telling her to be AS CAREFUL AS SHADOWHUNTERLY POSSIBLE. She slipped her sneakers silently across the cobbled ground, and walked just barely behind their guide.
((We'd need a major time warp to include Camille here... However, there has been talk of a 1800's, Infernal Devices, roleplay. If you picked her then, she would be very much alive.Not to mention, the whole confusion with Maureen.
Most likely, she's taken over but isn't hiding in Dumort. Raphael needs more power and may be hiding in Dumort in the meantime. Whatever the placement, vampires in general still live here and the Shadowhunters are being set to make sure that their girl will not accidentally marry the Dumort gang with Vlad's (Vladimir is the 50+ vampire group which will be visiting town). This is supposed to be an attack on vampire politics but I have a feeling... As well as a secret certainty, that every one of our characters is here for their own reasons.
So, now that you've raised the point--who is in charge right now?))
Pulling his lips in a tight line, Maur tried to steady his features, his adam's apple bobbing next to the suddenly visible veins in his neck. Fira extending her pulse to him nearly made him take the wrong turn. Magnus couldn't hide his amusement at this display of slow motion ping-pong. Someone should make a Nephilim nature channel. Hit new show 'Predator in the Urban'. It would have been funny if Magnus wasn't so preoccupied. There were some slip ups you just couldn't talk yourself out of.
Laughing at vampires in a vampire hotel was one of them.
Gods, it was dark. Thinly veiled black walls pealed with cobwebs. The spiders scurrying upwards back in their hollows reflected on the glass of their eyes. Blue fire pulsed, cold colour making this seem like a real time episode of Paranormal Activities.
"The great hall is ahead," Maur said, stopping and letting them walk ahead so he could take the rear.
A vampire's power was not in their beauty or their smile but in their mind. Magnus ignored this, too fond of his own path. But he Shadowhunters would be the ones attacked if Maur decided to swindle them.
Nasty darkness subsided when they reached their destination: A crowded ball room, glass chandeliers and cracked 1800's tile. All it lacked was a grand staircase (something that had been butchered off from the top like two amputated limbs). Around them, vampires. Above them, vampires. All lips ceased when the trial arrived.
Magnus suddenly quickened his stride, sashayed right to the middle of the hall and snapped his forefinger and thumb with such loud practice that--well, it wasn't the snap that made the gathered jolt--it was all oil lamps in the room flickering ablaze at once. Walls sweepingly enkindled, and then settled to nice candle dinner feel (a blue candle dinner). Luxurious, very high tea, and ready to jump out of their glass cases at the beck and call of the elemantalist, the fire settled on a hundred fine faces.
And there was light, and the ungodly hissed in ill feeling, in hostility.
Magnus crossed his arms and tapping his foot dramatically: Making it clear that he was waiting for a few other people to end the procession.
When they did, the vampires edged back even more. Despite them being only three, with the torches lining the walls and the Shadowhunters taking the center, the vampires couldn't help but feel surrounded.
Back and forth, back and forth, the vampires hadn't begun to jeer or whisper at all.
"Shalom and good night." said Magnus, fondly taking full advantage of the momentary silence, "I'm dazzled to bear light to your angelic faces," he raised an intricate eyebrow and looked to the front as if he nobly had to fall for their master's favor he just couldn't seem to find such master, "If only I was solely here for that."
My life would be much less complicated, he seemed to say, flicking off a piece of lint from his sleeve.
After the whispers and conversations Darcelle had heard emanating from the grand room ahead as Magnus, Fira, and herself made their way down the dark, damp hallways, the sudden silence that filled the room like fog seemed overbearing. As if a giant had covered the room in a velvet cloth, even the sounds of creaking floorboards and the shuffle of feet seemed oppressed.Blue fire sprang into being at Magnus' call, startlingly lively among the rings of Undead crowding the balconies and floor around them.
These vampires seemed almost... in awe of Magnus Bane. Any advantage in an unfamiliar place will do, Darcelle thought as she spun a dagger easily in one hand, the reflective surface shattering pinpricks of blue light into the air around the three.
((Before the third of our party makes a just as passive post, we need to figure out who's in charge--not only of the vampire council but of we, the writers, ourselves.))
((Yeah... The thing is, Darcelle is new, she doesn't really know exactly what's going on. I've been meaning to read through the RP you had with Magnus and Emily, but it slips my mind every time, so I don't exactly know what's going on either. Which reminds me, I think I'll go do that now.))
((One quick thing here: what is Emily's goal? To kill the vampire clan? The rest I think I get. So now the three are on a diplomatic mission to ensure that the Dumort vampires do not end up like the clan Emily wishes to summon. Where is Emily now?))
((I don't know where Emily is now but yeah, that's her goal. Since she hasn't popped up in the flesh yet, I decided to get some kind of something rolling for you Shadowhunters. A little initiation. XD Welcome to New York--here's a mug, a tee-shirt, and probably the biggest mess on the face of the Earth. The mug is for the coffee you'll be drinking. You're gonna need it.
Humor aside, Emily's mission: To kill a vampire clan.
Magnus' mission: To get his love life straitened out, to make sure the whole of Downworld hasn't gone completely insane like everyone else (he hates vampires but he doesn't hate them), and oh, to save a revenge bent Emily Thorne.))
Fira fingered the hilt of her blade. Her wings twitched, hidden inside of the coat she wore. She wondered if they would have a better effect on the vamps if they could see the wings the angel had given her. She knew they were a great advantage in a fight, but anyone would be reluctant to reveal such a secret. Both Magnus and Darcelle were doing things that were almost mystic. Fira just kind of stood there and studied the vampires. She made them wiggle slightly when she set her unrelenting gaze upon their hideous yet beautiful faces.
