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shadowsworn

By Invitation Only


Background: This RP takes place in the city of Toronto, in the present day. This does not necessarily mean that you need to know much, or anything, about the city or it's environs. I will try to fill that in as much as possible for you, and as necessary.

You are all ordinary people (insomuch as anyone is ordinary, I suppose, you know what I mean I hope) who live in, or are staying in, Toronto. If you want any help with details pertaining to the city to flesh out your backstory feel free to contact me. As I said, it's not strictly necessary to know much, if anything, about the city.

You all vaguely know a man called George Dantes. None of you is close to him. Perhaps he is a friend of a friend, or someone you talked to once at a party, or something of that sort. You don't know him well. He is a quiet, withdrawn sort of man, and doesn't talk much. You have almost forgotten him.

In your introduction post you are contacted by him somehow, maybe texted, recieved a voice or answering machine message, or a letter from him. You do not talk to him or see him, and, indeed, have not done so for a long time. He asks you to meet him outside of Union Station later that day, that he will be arriving by train in the city there at 7 pm., and saying that it is a matter of some urgency, but not explaining further.

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Lick

Gray Fidèle. How can one describe a person such as he? Young, vibrant, smart and in love with his music? An individualist, you could say. A man of few words and big thoughts.
Earphones, bandanna-headband, rock group tshirt and some old jeans. Looking the same every day, yet bringing something new with his mind along was just one of his many qualities that make him who he is.
18 years old and attending school at the University of Toronto, Gray was a young man striving to prove to himself, and the world, that a previously-failed academic can rise from the dust and become something great. He is currently planning to minor is Theory of Evolution, and to major in Physics.
Being raised with the religion of Christianity has been putting so many questions into Gray's underdeveloped mind as a child. Where did God come from? Why did he decide to make us? Why are there other "gods"? So many questions, so little answers.
Curiosity getting the best of him, he decides to look more into the evolution of man. Little did he know, the first book he read on it (The Third Chimpanzee) would only be a portal to a vast world of interests that he was deprived of as a child. Quantum Physics, Quantum Mechanics, The String and Chaos Theory. What the hell were all of these theories? He had no idea.
Thirsting for the knowledge that could possibly open his mind to more than just one belief, he abandons his religion. Pouring through book after book; movie after movie; documentary after documentary, he finally has all the proof he needs to form an opinion on the society he lives in.

This is his story:

"Come on. Ring.. RING!"

*bell rings*

"Finally.."

Music blaring, he doesn't hear the voice calling his name.

"Gray! Gray!!"

Still walking..

"GRAY!!!!!!!!"

"Huh?"

"Sheesh, boy. You gotta take those 'phones off before ya go deaf."

"Heh.. Yeah."

Or maybe you can stop acting like my bloody mother for once.

"Anyway. I was told to uh.. deliver this to you..?"

"What is it..?"

"Read it and find out, jackass."

that's better.

"Yes ma'me!"

"Gray,
I highly doubt that you remember me, but my name is George Dantes. I came into town a while ago, and you were the only person nice enough to show me around. Anyway, I have a very important favor to ask you. I cannot disclose the details here, but I need you to trust me when I say that this is most urgent. Please, meet me at Union Station at 7:00pm sharp. This is dire.

-G.P.

PS: Keep this to yourself. No one else under any circumstances. "

George? The shy little man who got lost in the library..? Hmph. Never thought I'd talk to him again. I wonder what he wants..

"What does it say?"

"Huh? Oh. It just says.. uh.. my uncle died. I gotta go though."

What was I thinking? Uncle died? Ah shit.. Here it comes..

"WHAT?! OH MY GOSHH, GRAY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! Do you need to talk? Come here you poor baby!"

fml..

Several minutes later, Gray finally breaks free from the grasp of his overprotecting friend.

.....Well, he did say it was urgent..

Gray gets out of his dirty school clothes and changes into something decent. A Dissection tshirt with light-blue levi's and a white bandanna-headband.

He opens the door..

`doll

A crisp, satisfying crunch sounded from beneath her footsteps, the barest sprinkle of autumn leaves taking their place along the pavement. It was near the start of autumn, a small breeze caressing against the rosy cheeks of Sophia's face, which featured two hazy eyes of a soft blue. The gaze was a bit indifferent, a hint of curiosity peaking from it but showing very little. Perhaps a bit of tiredness. They were framed by long locks of dark hair and choppy bangs, resting above in a straight cut across her forehead.

A small buzz came against the front pocket of her plain white dress, where one hand rested as the other snugged in the second. The top, covered portion of her jeans was unfortunately too inconvenient to hold the device. Itching softly at her thin knit scarf, she then reached to slide open the phone that had vibrated. The screen read:

Sophia,
I highly doubt that you remember me, but my name is George Dantes.

George Dantes? She nipped at her bottom lip with the fingernail tips of her index and thumb. Ah, it was possibly the quiet man Sophia had briefly met as she asked for directions in the city. She had only recently visited to the country for family affairs, leaving her dear chéri and fiance back in the States. The random thought curled the corners of her lips into a slight pout.

I came into town myself a while ago, and was asked by you a few directions. We exchanged numbers as a way of offering a future helping hand in our travels in this area. Anyway, I have a very important favor to ask you. I cannot disclose the details here, but I need you to trust me when I say that this is most urgent.

Now what could a kind stranger Sophia passed by need from her? The thought was quite peculiar.

Please, meet me at Union Station at 7:00pm sharp. This is dire.

PS: Keep this to yourself. No one else under any circumstances.

The girl briefly scrunched her nose, as she kept walking during her musings at this text. Well maybe there was some point to this man's request. Sophia felt a bit unsure, but then assured herself that it wasn't as if she was going on some sort of date with an odd man in an unknown country. The odd man in an unknown country may have applied, but it was shrugged off.

She stopped by a cozy place for a quick drink and small bite, the whiff and aroma of hot chocolate easing all senses as coffee did for most. That was really all she had stepped out for in the night, fearing roaming alone without the company of comfort or her beloved. Sophia's gaze flickered from one side of the street to another as she found herself trailing the pavement once more, trying to recognize her direction.

Her destination? The Union Station.

The digital clock on her phone turned 6:42 as she scanned the bustling passengers of the train, getting off quickly as if they had busy lives, and no time to look about. Sophia was early, and found no need to glance about any further for the signs of a recognizable face. Most likely, the next train would drop off passengers around 7:00 sharp.

power_gamer_6

Desmond was bored and lurking his most visited sites as usual. It was 3PM on a Saturday. Much too early to be awake. He figured he'd check his Facebook, stalk some chick's photos, and do whatever else came to mind. A small window popped up on his desktop. Annemarie was messaging him. Again.

I thought I ****ing blocked this chick. WTF.

After some mindless droning about her work at the local cafe, he told her he had some things to do around the house and was going to sign off of instant messenger. She said goodbye. He blocked her.

I wonder what's new in the world of videogames today. Or at least what Off-Topic Discussion is up to over at SoloRPGs.com. Same old spam......and a High School Musical video thing with his face and another member's horribly plastered onto the characters from the film as they performed various dance numbers. He didn't wish to comment on it so he went to the Fantasy Tales section. There was a new thread, so he clicked on it.

Mirror Image: Depiction in Silver. Sounds interesting. He read on.
"...You all know a man named George Dantes." Yes, I do. That's weird. Haven't seen him in forever actually... How did UmbraOath-- The phone rang.

Desmond often walked around while on the phone, and had a tendency to leave it wherever the conversation should end. It sounded like it was in the kitchen.

He picked up the phone.

"Hi, I'd like to order a large, pepperoni pizza for delivery. That'll be all." He smirked.

"Wait what? Des, why are you such a...? Nevermind. Listen dude, it's Matt's birthday in a couple of days and I wanted to know if you were good for Saturday."

It was Vlad.

"Yeah, sure brotha. What time? Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay, I'll be there. Later, broski."
He hung up.

Walking over to his fridge, he noticed a Post-it Note that was not there before.
It read, "Desmond. It's George Dantes. Haven't seen eachother in a while. Meet me at Union Station at 7PM tonight. Urgent. Cya." He ran out of space.

How the ****? Soddin' guy never says a word, then suddenly he sneaks into my place and asks me to meet him at Union? Brotha. He's dunzo. Doneski. Done like dinner. Done.

He went back on SoloRPGs.com, and kept reading: "He asks you to meet him outside Union Station ... at 7PM." I'll be damned, brotha. Shit just got real.

Well, he thought, I got sod all to do and it's 3:30. It'll take me like an hour to get there so I'm gonna go browse \b\ for a bit and leave a little early so I can grab some food at the Eaton's Centre. I'm bloody starving.

At a quarter-after-five, he left his apartment and got on the 34 Eglinton bus to Kennedy Station. Stepping off at Bloor-Yonge, he got on the southbound train and at 6PM he was at Dundas Station. He stepped out of the station and into the mall, and headed for the food court.

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Bekk

I opened the glass door of my bookstore, Changing Hands. 11 Saint Thomas Street. This was a familiar address to me. My life, my home, mt cash flow. Everything in my life happened here. I moseyed on in and threw my book bag onto the floor in front of the desk and looked at my phone. A flashing red number at the base read, "1." I looked at it for a second, making up a message in my head. Hoping it was someone calling me to tell me I had won the lottery. False hopes. I hit the button.

"One new message. Message one:

Hello, Arthur Reed. This is George Dantes. You probably don't remember me but I bought a book in your store a couple of weeks a go. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland. Great book. But that's not why I called. I would like to meet you at Union Station ad 7P.M. Bring some books...

Beep!

End of message one."

I slowly put the phone back on it's ivory pedestal and shifted my gaze toward the clock.
"5:40."
It taunted me.
I slowly pushed myself up and took my good ol' time gathering the books, messing my hair, getting dressed to go out.
"6:15."
I left the bookstore, flipping the, "OPEN," sign as I went out. I didn't bother to lock the door. No one would steal from me.

I looked around the busy, grey, town. It smelled strongly of rain out here. Luckily Union was an indoor station. After eying my care for a few seconds, I decided to walk. The smell of rain is probably one of the things I love most in this world. I let my head fall back, causing my dreadlocks to be caught in the minute bursts of wind, and walked towards union.

Union is quite a walk from my house, but I didn't mind. A nice, long stroll on an almost rainy day is just fine with me. I walked for awhile and finally made it. As I arrived, I sat in one of the green benches. I noticed the paint was peeling, and the left leg was bent, causing it to wobble back and forth, meaninglessly. I ripped the lip of my messenger bag from it's velcro counterpart. I reached in and grabbed the book, cracked it's old, dusty pages, and smelled it. I enjoy the way old books smell. I began to read.

I had just began when I heard the sound of a train creeping to a halt. The butlers shouted something, and the doors opened. I waited. The sound of footsteps drawing closer to me rang in my ears.

shadowsworn

OOC: hey bekk, no one meets George yet. Can you take that part out? Oh um, also could you change the phone conversation to an answering machine message or letter or something? I think Union is a bit further than that, too. Other than that, though, looks good. You write well :]

good work everyone :]

Just waiting for two-four more people.

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xkittyxlicksx

The sun streamed through the ripped garbage bag taped over the hole where a window used to be. Dust particles danced across it's beams, falling upon the placid features of a sleeping woman. She was sprawled across a pile of matresses which sagged with old age and use. A spotted cat tentatively navigated itself around the mess in the small, dark room. First exploring the bowl of old soup on the dusty tabletop, then pawing a piece of crumpled newspaper. It had just made it's way around a fallen pile of laundry when it was startled by a jarring noise.

"MURDER MURDER, A RIPE BLOOD STAIN. PULLED THE ****ING TRIGGER COZ I'M SICK OF IT ALL! MURDER MURDER A RIPE ****ING HATE, PULLED THE ****ING TRIGGER COZ I'M SICK OF IT ALL!"

The cat jumped straight in the air, then ran for the doorway with a venomous hiss. The woman stirred through the screams of Brody Dalle and tried to swat at her stereo with a limp arm.

"I WENT TO SCHOOL TODAY WITH AN UZI, SEE THIS KID, HE TEASED ME SO I SHOT HIM IN THE FAAACE. ALL THE WORLD'S LIGHT WON'T EASE MY PAIN. IT WON'T CEASE, I'M DISEASED - WILL YOU HANG ME PLEASE?"

"Goddammit," she muttered, forced to get out of her bed and turn the alarm off properly. With the small stereo in her hands she was able to read the time correctly.

[5:00 PM]

"Oh for christ's ****ing sake not again,"

Rifling through the mess of clothing on her floor she quickly pulled a black tank-top over her head. Having slept in her army pants the night before, she was already half dressed in her usual attire. In fact, the majority of time in her morning routine went to getting high or tying up her combat boots. Due to sleeping in, she no longer had this luxury - and so she went out sober, with untied boots.

It was a quick walk to her destination, just a few blocks West, down Queen Street. The woman ducked into a doorway beside a glass display case full of intricate looking bongs, a sign above her head read JUPITER. A tall, thin man with dark hair and tattooed hands stood at the cash register.

"Fey, you seriously need to go to class one of these days," he said dryly, not looking up from sorting through a box of glass vials.

"I could have sworn that I set my alarm for 12, baby. I don't know what happened!" She said, leaning over the countertop and giving the man a kiss. She pouted when he continued to ignore her.

"Do you have cigarettes?"

"No. Are you high?"

"No, Twitch, I am not high!" Her green eyes clouded with hurt and she fiddled with her two lip rings, staring at him. "What's up? You're acting weird. Look at me!"

Her boyfriend sighed and walked around the counter, extended his arms to grab Fey and pull her into a hug. She smiled, pressing her face into his bony chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. When they parted, his face was stone cold.

"Are you cheating on me?" he murmured, running one of his hands through her knotted dreads.

"**** you! Where the hell did you get that idea?" She tugged on his tight, black shirt and frowned at him. He just shrugged and passed her a folded note from out of his back pocket.

Fey,

Do you recall our last meeting? It should be vague, but you will remember.
I want to see you again. I will be at Union Station at 7:00 PM.
Please come alone.

-George Dantes

She read it twice, but couldn't recognize the name or the handwriting.

"Baby I don't know who this is, he's probably just random custy who grabbed off of me or something. Seriously, I'm not cheating on you." She put the note into a small pocket on her army print backpack. "Chill out, willya? I'll see you tonight."

"So, what. You're going to see him?"

"Of course I'm going to see him, I got a note didn't I? I just need to go by the house to get a few supplies, wanna spot me?"

Her boyfriend sighed, but gave her a pack of cigarettes and a small black box. "You better not be ****ing with me, Fey."

"Never, baby." She replied sweetly, stealing another kiss.

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shadowsworn

One way or another you all make your way to Union Station. The sun is already setting, although no lights have yet been turned on. The air is beginning to cool quickly, this close to the lakeshore, and you see several passers-by already wearing jackets against the autumn chill.

The building's entrance looks like the architect was trying to capture the feel of a Greek temple. The roof is flat, and below it on the side of the building is writing proclaiming that the building is indeed Union Station. You don't remember much from history courses. The columns beneath might be Doric or Ionic, but either way the effect they create, arrayed as they are in a long line across the entire front of the station, is an impressive one. The line of columns makes it difficult to see anything at all of the station inside, even when you can see clearly through the rush of streetcars, cars and pedestrians.

Suddenly, there is a break in the crowd, and for a moment you can see a very British looking man, wearing a grey jacket and hat, and sporting a moustache (brown, but also with some streaks of grey). Then he is gone again. When you can make him out once more he is standing in the shadow of one of the columns, looking out at the street as if he is expecting someone. This close, you can see that he looks faintly anxious. He has a frown on his face, and he is fidgetting with one hand in a pocket of his jacket.

As you see him, he makes out Sophia among the crowd, and smiles. He steps forward, as if to greet her.

As this is happening, Desmond feels a strange sensation that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. More by instinct than conscious thought, he looks backwards, and sees, in a high window in a building across the street, the last of the sunlight flash on the barrel of a gun...

The gun fires, and George is thrown back against the column by the impact, then slowly his legs crumple under him, and he sinks to the ground, leaving the column stained by a line of dark blood.

George's smile remains on his face, although his eyes now stare into nothing. The hand that he had in his pocket, you can see, holds a letter clutched tight, half in, half out of his jacket. Aside from one crimson splotch, the only thing on the envelope is some writing. "To the friends of George Dantes" and then below that "Leave This Place."

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power_gamer_6

Desmond stood there for a second but quickly snapped out of it. There was chaos all around him. Making his way through the crowd, he's yelling "Brotha! Brotha! Are you alright, brotha?!" He made his way to George and saw a woman trying to shake him awake. He looked around at the blood on the floor, and picked up the letter.

"You're wastin' your time, sista."

*will finish this later*

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xkittyxlicksx

Fey was just turning the corner of Front and Bay when she heard a single gunshot. Unfortunately, having spent a lot of time in the shadier areas of Toronto, this was a common sound. 7pm outside of Union Station, however, was something completely different. She was about to enter the building when she was alerted by a woman's screams coming from her left.

"HE'S DEAD. OH LORD HE'S DEAD. SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE."

A crowd was forming around a nearby pillar, around a man lying in a pool of blood. A man with horribly unfashionable hair was kneeling over his body and holding a letter.

"You're wasting your time, sista," he muttered.

"What the **** is going on, man?" She said, eyeing the gore beneath their feet with sick interest. Fey had never seen a dead body, and it was certainly not like the movies.

The man shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. The note remained in his hands. Fey took a step forward and swiped his out of his hand.

"Hey, don't touch-"

Ignoring him, she scanned over the letter. The handwriting was immediately familiar to her. A connection formed in her slow, stoner brain.

"What the **** is this shit, man. I'm not kidding, WHAT THE **** IS THIS? I have a letter from this guy. I was- I was supposed to ****ing meet him here. But... he's dead." She covered her mouth, feeling nauseous.

"Me too," the man said.

Just then more people muscled their way through the crowd.

"The cops are totally going to be on our *** soon."

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