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[Dark Waters] Nightfall in New Orleans
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Re: [Dark Waters] Nightfall in New Orleans
#41Her body still slightly damp from the rain drops pouring out of the sky. It was almost as if the angels them selves where crying out in vain. Even that did not stop the blood shed. Her finger tips had undertook the trouble to pull up her hair. Pulling it up and out of her face the jet black strands fell into a simple up due which she knew would hold. That is all that matted anyway.
The smell of blood was reeking, why she did not take note of it before she did not know. The chill that she had felt was something that she craved and longed for her own fear was something that she fed upon. “Alow l'obscurité po.” With a light smile, she opened the broken down door. Her snake like hips rolling as her foot steps where next to soundless on the burnt wooden floor. If it was a killer and they wanted to meet, how could she deny a fellow killer wants? If it was just a brawl then she had better go on and leave before more people came around. Then again why would more people come around this broken down place. By then she had reached the staircase which has long ago faded away. Her mind cleared of all thoughts. Leaping into the rafters that where still standing she hid in the shadows. The next move was up to who ever was after her. If they where in fact after her at all. Her hand drifted to her thigh as her finger tips found the head of one of her daggers. If needed she would be ready. Even if there was a chance that it might be unnecessary then at lest she was ready.
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Re: [Dark Waters] Nightfall in New Orleans
#42“Merde!” he softly swore. Someone else was in this ruin!
Jean-Paul’s hand jerked impulsively toward his sword before he recovered his composure. The events of the evening had obviously left him on edge. Given the downpour, no doubt some sort of beggar or vagabond had seized upon the place as a decent shelter from the storm, free of intrusion from the local gendarmes. For coin, such a person could help him find a skilled and discreet chirurgien to stitch up his leg.
Securing his valise beneath some debris, he called out softly to the unseen presence, “Bonjour! Est-ce que quelqu'un est là? Parlez-vous français?”
Jean-Paul walked cautiously toward the shell’s smoke-blackened stairwell. What stairs had been there were long gone, along with the roof, but he could make out where some sort of ladder had apparently been placed against the sagging remnant of the floor above. It was gone, presumably pulled up by the unseen vagabond above him, leaving nothing to be seen but heaps of waterlogged cinders and debris.
The continuing rain poured down on Jean-Paul, getting in his eyes as he stood peering above him. -
Re: [Dark Waters] Nightfall in New Orleans
#43From the darkness above, Jean-Paul heard a quiet whisper in lightly-accented French, "What do you want?" The question was short and to the point, as if the voice had somewhere to go and better things to do.
Attempting to mollify this stranger hidden among the scorched rafters, Jean-Paul replied, "I am injured and in need of a skilled doctor. If you could help me to one, I could pay you for your trouble. I have no wish to wander in this foul weather, seeking help at this late hour."
"Now, why should I help someone I don't know? That would indeed be something close to a fool," she stated simply. “If you blindfold yourself and do not look upon my face, I will take a look at your leg myself: If I am able to heal it, I shall do so. If not… then you’re on your own." It was the best she could offer him right then. There were too many people after her: Not only for her skill, but for other things as well.
The strange woman’s bizarre demands were really starting to irritate Jean-Paul. “Blindfold myself, indeed! The people in this town are all crazy!” he thought. “Why should I not see your face? I am newly come from France and know few people in this quagmire they call a city."
Suspicious thoughts ran through her mind. “Just what does he think I am? A fool? For all I know, he could be one of the many people after me. There’s no way I am going to let someone get to me that easily!”
Taking her fingers from the hilt of the dagger upon her leg, she called out to the waterlogged stranger below, “Then, I guess that you wish to have no help at all. This is all I will offer you: Take it, or I shall take my leave." She was not angry, but neither was there any kindness in her voice. Long ago, she had learned to conceal her feelings; it was one of the first things she’d learned when she took up her “trade”.
“What you do is no affair of mine! If you do not object too greatly, I shall wait below until this storm has abated slightly, then I shall seek a surgeon who lacks your idiosyncrasies!"
Just who was this man? And… who in the world would say “idiosyncrasies”? The clouds had parted; in the dim moonlight, she was able to make out some details of the battered old man before her. Despite his clumsy attempts to bandage it, the man’s leg was still bleeding: The blood that she had smelled was his. Leaping onto the ground, she landed with cat-like agility. Slowly she rose, as if she did not wish to frighten him. “Well, when you put it that way."
The woman that had appeared before him struck an almost piratical appearance to the baffled aristocrat. Clad in what appeared to be a coat and boots, she wore only her shift, corset and short petticoats. He could make out at least two knives and suspected that more were hidden among her outlandish attire.
As the woman approached, Jean-Paul was taken aback by her odd costume. Aghast, he blurted out, “YOU are a barber-surgeon?"
She smiled in a rather unnerving manner, as she enigmatically replied, "It is but one of many trades, of which I will not speak.” -
Re: [Dark Waters] Nightfall in New Orleans
#44The air seemed to go cold and stale in the room. Nothing but the smell of rotting wood and stagnant water remained. The shadows appeared to sway and dance slightly when Jean-Paul heard an all too familiar voice from the doorway.
"We know who you are, Jean-Paul. We'll not let the moon turn new before we feast on your flesh, the Master demands it..." A lanky figure was silently standing in the door. With a quick motion it brought up it's hand to point at the aged nobleman, but instead splattered black ichor up the front of the disheveled Frenchman. His hand was missing.
Small pieces of shadow broke away from the corners, taking shape as they moved closer to the two standing near the center of the room. Large rats, nutria of a decayed and rotting visage, scurried closer to the pair as larger chunks of shadows began to take other shapes, the shapes of men.
"Now let us see just how talented you are, old man!"
((that's four undead nutria and four more of your friendly neighborhood zombies.
Your clothes are ruined btw. Good luck!)) -
Re: [Dark Waters] Nightfall in New Orleans
#45...at the scene of carnage...
Alexander pulled himself up as best he could, leaning heavily on his walking stick.
"There is a safe place just a few streets from here, at the boarding house of Madame Revouel. We must hurry though...there may be no room there if we arrive too late."
He hobbled to the door, peering out a side window for guards. Satisfied none were in the vicinity, he motioned the rag-tag group out the door and down the street.
"Wait around the corner, I'll be there momentarily!" He moved back into the parlor, closing the door behind him. -
Re: [Dark Waters] Nightfall in New Orleans
#46The icy fingers of the wind seamed to grip upon her moon light skin. With a light shiver, she almost did not dare to turn around to see the face that went with the voce that had just spoken. Looking upon the man in front of her she smiled softly “Pleasure to meet you Jean-Paul.” Taking a breath she glanced on down at the broken peaces of glass to see just who was behind her. Only her mind could not believe what her eyes where seeing. It was not human but in a way, it was. Her voce lost as all she could do now was look. It seamed she was stuck in a horror story that she loved to read late at night. What was behind her was textbook zombie. Either that or a man in a very life like costume, or would it be dead like costume? Glad she had already tied her jet-black hair away from her face she torn her eyes away from the broke glass on the floor and slowly stood up. Almost as if, she did not want to make any sudden movements. It was the fear that drove her to do what she did. She lived on it. The love of the feeling of being afraid. If you loved it then the fear would slowly become your friend instead of a fo.
Still not turning as she looked to the glass again to see all that was behind her. There seamed to be an old fire place and it was not to far away but that was not any help. The beams would hold her weight but she didn’t think it would hold Jean-Pail as well. Even so she could fight better up there from a distance with her daggers and gun. Fingertips still holding to the head of her whip as she lashed it out into the night. The sound almost seamed to be the only sound in the old burnt home. It latched upon the beam a she swung her form back upon it. As soon as she landed, she called out to them “What about how talented I am? I dare say did you mean to leave me out of this fight. That truly saddens me. I guess I will just have to spoil your party by joining in the fun. You don’t mind do you Jean-Paul? Besides you ruined my pretty cloths. You must pay for the damages.”
( I am sorry it took so long)