LukeMinhere

Pastor Manfree scanned the broken down cathedral, and looked over the homeless that now were scattered throughout the sanctuary. Some were just sitting there, probably still drunk or high from the night before. Others were sprawled out across a pew, sound asleep. There was a time when he would preach to these folks, but soon found out they were not listening. They were locked in their own personal hell of life. It seemed to him they had no desire to get out of it, no desire for a better life, no desire for anything else.
Their wills were simply removed by their drug of choice.
Other times he would get the violent one coming in. They were of little trouble to him, in the state they were usually in. A police officer or two could be coaxed in to get rid of the problem. He had no money to bribe them, as most did, but many of them held some kind of moral belief that whatever went on, one did not harm the cathedral or the pastor. It worked to his advantage in these cases, and he was but a mere nuisance to them.
This morning, even the homeless were few. He could hear the cool wind blowing under the north door, and knew it had been a cold night. Not that the cathedral was that much warmer. There was little heat to be had throughout it, but parts of the heating system did still work. It helped tremendously that the big doors faced south. The windows on that side were all boarded up due to the damage caused by the Rikti.
The sun would be up soon, and may be poking it's first rays over Mercy Island already. Pastor Manfree rarely slept late, and was usually up before the sun. He went about his business of prayer and lighting the candles that went out, and replacing those that were burned out.
"Pastor Manfree, got a minute," one of the homeless called out to him. It rarely happened, one actually speaking, even rarer was that he was asking to speak to the pastor, and not just talking to some illusion of his mind.
"Yes, yes, how can I help you," he said as he made his way to the man. He was covered in old rags of clothes, mismatched all about, with an old worn stocking cap that just had enough material to keep his ears warm. His gloves was missing fingers, and worn thread thin as well.
"I think I saw somethin', sir, somethin' not altogether nice," he said, a moment of clarity in his eyes. "Just thought I would wanna talk it out with you."
"Go ahead, it is good for the soul to let these things out," the pastor said, and saw as a smile crossed the man's lips.
It was then that the doors burst open, and many eyes startled to the new comer. It was just morning, so the rays of light flooded in, and feathered a silhouetted figure. If Pastor Manfree was seeing what he thought he was seeing, the man had smoke, or maybe steam, flowing up from him.
Then he saw who it was.
"Jerrin!" he said, and noted that Jerrin had a young lady in his arms.
"Pastor Manfree, take her, I must go," Jerrin said, his voice filled with pain, as his body was smoking ever more.
"Set her down here," he told the vampire, who placed her on the empty pew.
"Through those doors there, it leads to the basement. Close the door, and lock it. Now go!"
Jerrin raced to the door the pastor pointed to, and yanked it open, almost pulling it from the hinges. He disappeared into the darkness below, where there were no lights, no windows, and nothing to bother Jerrin as he slept.
Pastor Manfree had never seen him in that state, though he knew inside the man really was a vampire. But now, his face had changed, and was barely recognizable. He had appeared to have been dead for some time.
The preacher allowed those thoughts to ebb away, and looked to the young lady on the pew. She was of African American decent, or at least mostly. She was indeed beautiful, even though she was sporting a bruised face. Her clothes told him she worked in some sort of club or tavern. Then he saw the front of the apron, "The Dirty Duck" with "Bar and Grill" written under it.
The homeless man had wandered over to them now, and began to stare at the lady, eying her legs that were showing way too much, with the way Jerrin had placed her down quickly.
Pastor Manfree removed his jacket, feeling the cold air now against his arms, and covered the lady. The homeless man, noting that the show was over, and apparently forgetting what he wished speak to the pastor about, walked away to a corner and sat.
Pastor Manfree closed the big cathedral doors, as the sun began to shine into them, darkening the sanctuary once more, the only sign of morning was the few remaining multicolored stain glass windows beginning to glow their pictures of Jesus, Mary, and the saints of old.

Angela raised her head, and the pain came back. A headache like none she ever felt, and she knew she had a concussion.
Was it all a nightmare?
Looking about, she knew she did not dream the nightmare, but it was a very real nightmare. Right here, right in view of the Arachnos base, and none came to their aid.
Right in the view of many Rogue Isle Police for that matter!
Angela's eyes cleared, and she saw why no help came. There were bodies everywhere, lying dead. Patron, worker, and police. No one left the Dirty Duck Bar and Grill that night, morning, so no one would have reported. She was willing to bet the door was locked.
Angela sat up, still very shaky, still very much in pain. She noted it was dark, and wondered if she slept the whole day, or a few minutes, or....she just could not tell.
Getting up was impossible, even though she was horrified by the sights she saw. She wanted to run, and not look back, but her body just would not listen.
"You are alive," the voice said, more matter of factly than anything. It brought a new wave of fear to her, and a wave of nausea. What little she had in her stomach came out in a gush, making a mess on the floor, as well as her skirt.
He was still here!
She heard the footsteps, though very light, walking across the bar toward her. She tried to focus, but could only make out a dark figure. She saw the dead bodies so clear, but she could not see him clear.
"Stay away from me...." she said, trying to sound tough, like she was not afraid. All for nothing as her tears began to fall, and her voice quiver, giving away the panic she was now starting to feel.
"I mean you no harm," he said, as he extended a hand, filled with a towel from the bar. "You are alive, and will live. I mean you no harm, I assure you."
Angela took the towel, and knew at that moment, this was not the stranger that came in. This was not the man that brought chaos, that brought hell itself, to this small bar and grill.
She wiped her face first, then found herself balling into the towel. There was no hand of kindness rested on her shoulder. He did not say anything else to quash the fear she felt deep within. He just let her cry.
"Th thank you," she finally managed, though she did not see where he went. Something told her, however, that he had not left.
"Who are you?" She asked, looking about, then finally her eyes settled on someone. She could now make him out a bit better. He was near six feet tall, of good build, but looked nothing like a hero that would have been needed to save this place. To save her.
He walked toward her, and came into better view. He was pale, and had a tinge of dark about his eyes as if he had not slept much. His clothes was outdated, looking like he stepped out of the 1800s, but he had a handsome face. His hair, pulled back in a pony tail, looked shiny and clean. The man was almost spotless in fact, except for a bit of blood by his lips, which he wiped absentmindedly away when he noticed her staring.
"Were you hurt as well?" She asked, attempting to stand again, but becoming nauseated and sitting as fast as she tried to get up, her head once again spinning.
"No one hurt me," he replied. "It should be me asking you questions I suppose, though none of this is really my business."
"This is horror, sir, horror. Have you called the authorities?"
"This entire blasted world is a horror, and no authorities can save us from the curses we have brought on ourselves. No, I have not called anyone, nor will I. You will have to do that," he said. He did not lift his voice, he did not say it in a way of teaching. His words were all put together matter of factly, as if it was what it was, and that a bar full of death was nothing new.
Then again, this was the Rogue Isles, and a bar full of death actually was nothing new.
"Is there anyone else alive," she asked, looking about.
"You are the only life left in here. None survived."
"Well, you are here sir, and I thank you for not running away. Can you help me get up?" She asked, and a strong hand righted her, pulling her to her feet with ease. Too easy.
Her head spun again, and she fell into his chest. He smelled like crushed roses, a sweet smell, a pretty smell. Like the roses she found in her grandmother's bible when she was a kid.
"You will need to leave here Angela," he said, and she wondered if she told him her name.
"Do you think he will come back?" She asked, suddenly remembering the killer may be about, that murderer.
"It will be daylight soon, and I must go. You must get from here, or the authorities will be asking you what happened. You know the police around here. They will not care what you know, but some...." he trailed off, then finished, "you are very pretty, and you do not need to be in their custody."
Angela thought that over, and suddenly understood.
She tried to balance on her own again, but began to fall into darkness. She felt the strong arms catch her, and she felt herself being lifted. Then she felt nothing else.

From what I have seen, all servers have rp people, and tend to be okay with ic play, even if some do not actively participate. Though I have never had personal problems, I know Freedom has had those that are anti-rp, anti-ic. Feel them out. It really depends on what you are looking for. I like to get onto the less used servers at times, usually with my wife, and we just rp and stay pretty much ic the whole time. My suggestion is to build yourself a friend base.

Angela's manager, Santonio Diego, sent her an escort to bring her to work at the Dirty Duck, after she had refused to go in for a week almost. He was not mad, but he needed her there. She was the best, and all of the patrons liked her, and, she did not use that to turn tricks. Prostitutes never worked out, they would make a few bucks and not show up to work, or, turn a bad trick and get themselves killed. None of which was any help to Santonio, whose job it was to keep it all in the profit margin. Angela was a beauty as well, and a pleasure to have around. If he could ever figure out a way to get with her, he most certainly would. So far, she refused his advances every step of the way. Unfortunately, this only made Santonio desire her even more.
Angela felt a bit more at ease as the night wore on. The midnight hour came and went, and it was now close to two in the morning. The place was still filled with the party goers, the night clubbers, and the off duty R.I.P. that frequented the place. It wasn't too often that Arachnos soldiers came in, though they did time to time.
"Angela, my darling, you are doing better. You must be feeling better, no?" Santonio asked, in a strange accent that sounded like something between Spanish and Italian.
"I am more at ease, and thanks for sending your two guys to get me. I tell you, that creep scared me the other night," she said, speaking of her attacker.
"Jus' some pervert no doubt. You should find you a man that would take care of you, one who would protect you," he smiled, and she knew he meant himself.
"If you find one like that, let me know, but for now, I am fine on my own," she laughed, patted his head, and headed back to the tables of hooting and holleringhollaring. Santonio just laughed, he may never actually "get her", but he enjoyed the cat and mouse all the same.The air was sucked out of the room, much like some giant taking a deep breath, as the door opened. Heads turned to the door as the stranger walked in. He wore a cowboy hat, brim low, with a long rain coat.
Was it really raining?
He was dripping wet, so apparently it was. He was all in black, but a broad smile peeped out from under the brim.
Probably drunk.
“Some weather we having out there,” he said to Santonio, as he walked up to the bar. Angela was off and running again as the Dirty Duck seemed to come back to life.
“Wow, didn’t know it was raining out there, or that we were suppose to get any,” Santonio chimed in, only halfheartedly. Weather talk always bored him. “Got a thirst?”
“A thirst, a hunger, you bet I got it all,” his laugh was strange, but Antonio was used to strange, this was Mercy Island, and he did run a club just next to the Arachnos base.
“What you wanting,” Santonio asked again, no smile this time.
“Man after my own heart, get to the point, lickity split, lickity lip,” he replied, with a lick of his own lip. “I will take the strongest brew you got, no kidding around me, no sir. I got a mighty thirst, and a mighty hunger, and you look like the man that has the answer.”
There was no way Santonio was going to give this man a shot of Recluse’s Fire, the best mix he had, if someone wanted to get fall down drunk that is. Instead he poured him some rum, and slid the glass to him.
The stranger was watching the crowd, or scanning it, as he lifted the glass from the bar without looking. One gulp, it was down, and his tongue reached out, extending far past what a tongue should, to lick his lips. Lickity lip, is what Santonio thought of as he did just that.
“Good stuff, you little weasel,” he said, but Santonio was not sure he understood him right. Surely this man did not call him a weasel.
“Sir, what did you say,” Santonio was not a man to just let anyone talk down to him.
“I said good stuff, sir, good stuff,” and the man smiled sincerely, as if he did not say weasel. Santonio thought he may have misheard, and nodded, as he went down the bar to help others out.
Angela was, at the moment, sidling away from a particularly handsy patron. The police of this area were not the top of the line, but they tipped well enough, making this just a hazard of her work. More incredibly, she held a tray of drinks that did not so much as spill a drop, leaving the table cheering for her agility, including the would be groper.
“Here you go guys,” she said, as she dispensed the drinks to another table. Many times she set them up two drinks at a time, warning that she may not get back soon, leaving them to have to make the long walk to the bar. In their condition, at times, those 10 steps could seem miles.
“Hey Angela, who is that oddball guy that just walked in, he is up at the bar,” Crazy Eight asked. He was called Crazy Eight because of his badge number, 44, and the fact that he once jumped down a snake hole for one silver dollar he refused to lose.
“Don’t know him, and don’t think I want to be knowing him. Already looks like he is annoying the boss, so I am betting getting to know him is pretty useless at this point anyway,” she smiled, patted ole Eight on the shoulder, and headed off, another handful of tips to stuff in her apron.
As she approached the bar, the only open space was near the stranger. It seemed no one felt very comfortable up close to him. She had to admit, she did not either, but all the same, she did what she had to do.
“Three brews of no label, one sour, the others drug free,” she called, in her own way of ordering one beer with a lemon and the others with nothing added.
“Got a way with words,” the man next her said, raising his brim, and smiling a strange smile at her. Too many teeth showed, it seemed. However, there were lots of strange dudes entering the Duck. It was a city of villains, was it not?
“Well, it keeps it all interesting,” she said, with only a side glance at him.
“You keep things interesting for sure,” he smiled, and nodded. “****.”
“Excuse me,” she said, not sure she heard the last words correctly.
“Excuse ME, hiccups and all, I said you keep things interesting around here, what with the way you handle everything. You are good for business, no doubt.”
Angela nodded,
“Do something about them hiccups, that can be dangerous you know.”
“I sure do, I think I need to hold my breath or something. Maybe the entire place can help me hold my breath,” he smiled, and seemed to stop breathing.
Angela rolled her eyes, and turned back to the bar.
“Come on Santonio, we got business to take care of, those folks don”t like getting thirsty,” she called out.
Santonia was in middle of pouring a draft, seemed held in place, as the beer poured over.
“You wasting money there boss,” Angela chuckled, thinking Santonio playing some kind of joke.
Santonio never moved, even as the catch began to overflow, not being able to drain as fast as the beer poured into it.
In fact, the entire place seemed to go quiet.
Angela looked about, and it seemed everyone just stopped in place.
Then she looked over at the stranger, who was obviously holding his breath, his cheeks puffed out far wider than they should be, his face turning red, almost purple.
“Are you nuts,” she asked, but the man just pointed to his lips as he held his breath, signifying he could not talk yet.
“What are you doing,” she looked about at everyone, who also was beginning to turn red in the face, their own breaths held.
Then, just as it seemed the stranger would pass out, reeling on his feet, he let out the breath in him, and sucked in a long deep oxygen filled breath.
The entire Duck seemed to do the same, and life started back up again as if nothing happened, except for Santonio cussing about spilling all over, and wondering why his drain backed up.
“What did you do?” Angela asked, staring at the stranger.
“Held my breath ma’m, hiccups and all you know. Kind of got light headed there for a bit, but it seems to have worked.”
Angela back away from him as Santonio brought her the new order.
“Here you go Angela, I got a mess to clean. Tell Brunas get over here and help me out, he is in the back with Louisa, and I may add, been there way too long”.
As he said that Brunas walked out, straightening his shirt. Santonio waved him over, forgetting about Angela and the stranger.
Angela just looked about, hardly believing that no one suspected something strange just happened. Apparently not even the stranger, who was fiddling with his collar, trying to straighten it out, looking every bit uncomfortable.
She now wondered if she even saw what she thought she saw.
Angela moved away and headed back to the tables to serve more drinks. The only reminder that something odd happened was Santonio fussing and cussing about the catch backing up, and some of the customers complaining that they spilled on themselves.
Soon she made her way back up to the bar, where the odd man was now eating peanuts, and tossing them into Santonio’s mouth as well. Santonio was smiling and laughing as if he was drugged, or some crazy.
“What are you two doing?” She asked, but was looking more to Santonio for answers than the stranger.
“Wait, wait, don’t make him talk, he may choke if you do!” the stranger called out quickly.
“Sit boy!” he hollared, and oddly enough, Santonio did just that, just like a dog. The stranger tossed him a peanut, and he caught it in his mouth, giggling and smiling as he did so.
“Good Boy!” the stranger said, “you are actually good for something you idiot. Bout the dumbest hombry ever to walk these islands, if I do say so myself, and I do.” The stranger never stopped smiling.
“Now, go kill Brunas for me would you, more peanuts where these came from. Take him in back, and do it good.”
Santonio clapped, and nodded, his own smile too big for his head.
“When your done, ace yourself, right across the neck bud, lickity split, lickity lip,” he called, licking his lips again.
Angela watched in horror as Santonio grabbed the knife he used for lemons and limes and called Brunas to the back room. Brunas nodded, looking a little pouty, probably due to being fussed at over taking too much time in the back with Louisa.
“Santonio...”she began to call him, but the stranger grabbed her arm.
“Let him go, lickity split, you and I got something to talk about anyway,” he said, still that strange smile on his face. Angela felt the fear she knew the other morning on her way home, and saw the ear that was scabbed over.
“You,” she said.
“And YOU,” he said, and smiled again.
“Help, HELP...” she called back, waiting on the crowd to come to her rescue. They all liked her, and most would be willing to put a bullet in this stranger for her.
Unfortunately, as she looked back, being held by the stranger, the crowd only smiled and waved at them, as if she was simply introducing him.
“Got a good man there, Angela,” someone yelled out, with a look of complete approval of her new “man”.
“He is a keeper, a handsome devil for sure,” Louisa called out, her hair a little messed up from her time with Brunas.
It was then she heard a loud yell, and a scream. Brunas and Santonio! No one else seemed to even care, as they went back to their chatter.
“See, I am a keeper, a good man, your people says so, so you must believe them,” the stranger offered, his grip on her arm cutting off circulation.
Angela began to push away, but to no avail. Her hits did him no damage, even though she had been known to knock a grown man out with one of her punches.
“Now stop this!” he yelled, pulling down hard on her arm, as she heard the pop of it coming out of place, then the pain of it slipping back into joint.
Angela fell to her knees, the white hot pain starting to ease, tears now filling her eyes, though she was doing her best to try and keep them at bay.
Again, the club went on as if nothing was happening. Louisa was more than happy to take over serving them drinks, flirting with them, and letting them grope her.
“I like this place,” the man said, looking down at her. “I think it needs a little more violence in it, but over all, it is a good place. Lotsa sinners! Lotsa losers! You know, according to what you call the Holy Bible, these folks are all hell bound in a basket, lickity split, lickity lip.”
Angela watched as the man licked his lip, the tongue once again going out further than it should, then licking his lips as if from another mouth altogether.
Angela tried to crawl away, but the man grabbed her by the hair and drug her back to him.
“I tried to get my friend to do some work for me, Angela baby. He did great for a time, let me in this stupid body, took me around, thought he was using me, thought I was something called supradine. He was an idiot though, never much use to me really. You I thank, though. You getting away helped me, in a way.”
What was he talking about?
“Before you, Angela, I was nothing,” he seemed to become very sincere, and very thoughtful. “I was but a grub, a worm, or, better yet, I was a slug. No, no, that is not it. I was a caterpillar! Yes, a wormy, sluggish caterpillar. Now stay with me, I am going somewhere romantic with this,” it was then that Santonio walked out of the back room, covered in blood, and crying.
Was he crying?
Again, the patrons never seemed to notice, in fact, one even clapped him on the back and nodded some kind of encouragement to him.
The stranger just seemed agitated, Santonio messing up his romantic attempts.
“I am so sorry dear, but I will need to handle this,” he said, letting her hair go, as she slumped to the ground. He walked away from her, fussing at Santonio for something, she was having a hard time hearing what over the talk in the club, that seemed to get all the louder.
Santonio was hunched over, his shoulders down as well as his eyes, as if he was some kind of a school boy being chastised by a teacher. He would nod, and his eyes avert, sometimes to Angela. Then the stranger motioned him to follow, and they went back to Angela.
Santonio was still crying, the blood starting to dry on his face and arms.
“Angela, tell Santonio that what I tell him to do, is for his own good. Why, I would never let my best friend in the world down, would I? You have known me much too long, Angela, to think I would ever let my best bud here down,” he said, patting Santonio on the shoulder, and nodding with sincerity.
“You are crazy,” Angela said, looking at the two in horror.
“See, Santonio old buddy old pal old friend of mine, I am crazy about you. You heard her say it, and you know Angela would not let you down.”
Santonio looked at Angela with pleading eyes, as he raised the knife to his own throat.
“No, don’t, that is not what I said!” She hollered.
“See, don’t not listen to me,” the stranger nodded,” go ahead, cut that jugular like a good friend. Take it like a man! Show us you got the fortitude! Lickity split, lickity lip, just like that.”
Santonio did just what he said, staring at Angela, pleading eyes. Lickity split, he was cut, he was bleeding, he was squirting, and he was dead. Angela watched as he fell, gasping for breath, looking about for help.
Life in the club went on as usual.
“Poor guy, he never knew what hit him Angela. He never knew.”
The strangers eyes turned toward the patrons, and eyed Louisa.
“Such a bad girl,” he said, smiling way too wide for his face. “I need some fun, Angela, you are such a bore. Me and Louisa, well, we can rock this town, rock it inside out. Now that poor Brunas is gone, and we WILL miss Brunas, poor soul. Now that he is gone, well, Louisa needs a friend, and by all that is true, I am that friend she needs.”
The stranger looked down to Angela, and grinned.
“Good night Angela, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite. Now I lay you down to sleep, best to be praying that your soul is not mine to keep,” he sneered this time, a most fearsome look, as opposed to the almost comedic look he had been displaying. Then he struck her across the jaw, and Angela blacked out in a swirl of pain.

I guess it started when I was a teen
And my parents will never know their little boy is such a fiend
I guess sometimes it works out, but you never know what it means
Cause a lullabye don't always turn to a dream
Naw, a lullabye don't always turn to a dream -Amos Lee

Why do you rp as a millionaire?
Well, Luke is my wealthy guy, but it is just his way. He loves money and things. He is a normal guy, only enhanced by his suit and weapons. He needs the cash to do it. Cash he mostly made from underwear adds and good investments, not to mention his only true super power, his gorgeous smile. He must be rich, it is just a necessity for him.
While Luke can fly or jump here or there using his nano enhanced abilities and different suits, he still loves to own the porsche or classic corvette.

"Where do you draw the line between game play mechanic and game lore?"

Pretty much where the two cannot come together. I really do not use levelling up or training in rp. "I trained today so I am better" just does not seem to cut it. Threat level doesn't cut it for me either, unless specifically used as some kind of document, but not something the character would be spouting on about.
I use game lore as much as possible. The game world was created with the lore for us to use, and much time spent giving us story lines and information. Why not use it? With that said, I have no problem with those that do not. It is simply a choice, and what one should come to terms with within their own rp circle.

The morning was drawing near, and he could feel his skin tingle. He hated this time of the night, where it would soon be gone, replaced by the burning orb that seemed to scowl down at him. He could not even stand outside in the light for any amount of time without his skin beginning to sizzle, and by all evidence, would soon catch fire. Dr Yu said it was because of some changes in his physical make up. The man was atheist to the bone, and gave no account to the fact that Jerrin fit every sign of being cursed, and being exactly what he was told he was for over a century, a vampire.
Jerrin sat on a billboard sign, some warning about the dreaded aliens that have attacked. There was a time it seemed the world only had to worry about illegal aliens crossing borders, but now it had all gone crazy, and they worried about aliens coming from the sky, from below, and from dimensions that no one seemed to know even existed.


"I hear tell there are other us's as well," Dr Yu had told him. "Quite possibly another you, Jerrin, as odd as that may seem to you."
"If that is so, is he cursed?"
"Cursed you call it, but look at me, I am aging, my hair is falling out, and I have arthritis. You, well, you cannot go in the sun, and you have some strange fear of being a vampire. I have explained all of that away to you, yet you cling to that old world thought process! We are in an age of new things, exciting things! Look around you Jerrin, all the things you did not know when you were actually a young human, up to now, when you are this new beautiful creature. You have not aged, you have not been sick, and you heal at an alarming rate. You could live forever, though the odds of no accident happening to you forever is slim..." Dr Yu let that tail off as he seemed to ponder the odds.
"Yes, doc, centuries. All of my family, gone. All who I loved, gone. All I knew is but a memory, one I remember very well, seeming never to forget. Anything. I do not dream doc, I remember. As if I am there, yet can change none of it," his mind seems to wonder off, though his senses obviously still keen.
Dr Yu glanced over to Jerrin as he poured himself some wine. This was his apartment, his part of the world that was safe. Jerrin was one of the few that could enter it without being harassed by his guards. The gangs that lived below kept people out, his own body guards kept people, and the gangs, out. His work for Arachnos on the side paid him well though, and he was given all of the material he needed to perform his serums. Most of which were meant to enhance the human condition. That condition of growing older, slower, and the final condition that even he feared, dead. Jerrin's blood samples were meant for development, yet, so far, he could not salvage any of it past a few hours out of Jerrin's body. He was beginning to believe the man was cursed indeed, or maybe he was cursed.
"I would kill to have your problem Jerrin, imagine, being able to study constantly, with little desire to ever leave my own lab. You do not grow tired, you do not need rest. You only sleep in the day, and personally, I think that is due to you BELIEVING you are cursed, not some silly curse....."
Dr Yu stopped shortly as Jerrin's cold eyes turned to him. Jerrin seldom showed any emotion, but the doctor was sure he sensed some anger, and the uneasiness in the room grew, as did fear in Dr Yu.
"If I have....offended you...." he began.
"I must go, I will see you again. However, if you cannot find a cure for my condition, then we must come to the conclusion that you are of no use to me. I am not in need of a friend, I am not in need of a companion, and I am not in need of your wisdom," Jerrin looked at Dr Yu in the eyes a moment, Dr Yu suddenly feeling a paralyzing fear come over him, and the vampire was gone.
"You are beautiful," the doctor said to the thin air.

Jerrin sat on the billboard sign, half wondering if the doctor was right about his fear of the sun. Maybe he would not burst into flames, but only felt the burning due to his "condition". Was it worth trying? He had a fear within him that drove him to his own underground hide away. Of course he did not sleep in a coffin. That was not only silly, but very uncomfortable it would seem. He only needed to stay out of the sun light.
He could actually hear the song of the sun, as the earth slowly turned the Rogue Isles into view. He watched painfully as the corona began to edge about, something the human eye could not view. Jerrin's own eyes began to burn, and tears of blood began to pool under his bottom eye lid. He had no water in his system, though he could surely drink if he chose. However, the blood satisfied all of that.
His own fear began to become unbearable, as his skin began to tingle, then burn.
The doctor was wrong!
Jerrin fled to his own home, a forgotten layer of some unknown. He was pleased he was so close to it, yet, as he entered, and was closing the door, he felt the searing pain as his hand began to burn. It quickly burned the flesh deep, quicker than any fire made by man.
"You are cursed," it told him, even if it was only in his own mind.
"I am cursed," he said aloud, holding his now smoking member, knees buckled under him in agony. He remembered burning himself as a human, and it felt nothing as this. This pain burned his flesh, and it seemed, burned right down to his soul.
"I am cursed," he said again, tears of blood dripping on the dirty floor.

Serious question, not promotion of sets, but why has rad/dark been over looked? I solo on mine quite easily. Probably any /dark can be easily soloed for that matter. It does seem that the debuffing factor of the rad/ gives good survivability. Is it the damage output that has put it off the radar?

I do have to agree, fire/dark.....grief, I feel like I am cheating when I play my fire/dark! Once he got fireball, rain of fire, tar patch, and darkest night...it was all over but the collecting of xp and goodies.

Angela counted her tips as she left the Dirty Duck, the cash feeling wonderful in her hands. She had not done this well in ages, but the bar was full of off-duty Rogue Island Police. Apparently they had some sort of gathering at the Arachnos Base, not far from where she worked. They were patted on the back, and received awards for this or that. They partied hard late into the night, and early morning. It was all done with now, past 4 am. Mercy Island, a place of opportunity and safety. Right. Angela kept her .357 in her purse just in case. The R.I.P. were never much to depend on before, unless you paid the protection money, or were a prominent member of the Islands society, none of which Angela was a part of. They were in no shape to help anyone, now that they were mostly all drunk and staggering home, or to whatever brothel they would sleep at that day.

His dark eyes watched her from relative safety. He followed her every move. She was tall for a woman, 5'10 at least, and her dark skin was smooth. She was beautiful, and he was hungry for a "colored girl" tonight.
"Lickity split, lickity lip, your going to be mine tonight lil girl," he said to himself.
She turned, her straightened hair flowing a bit around her. It was long, about to the waist, that was barely covered with her skimpy work clothes. He worried for a moment that she had heard him, but he realized she was only looking around in general, the money she had in her hand now secure in her purse, which she held close to her.
"Don't worry none, my little dark angel, I don't want that money. No my dear, it would not satisfy this hunger one bit."
He was bigger than her, his broad shoulders setting his muscular frame just right. He had no fear either, the supradine flowing strong in his veins. He was the hunter, and she would be his new victim. So far, none really missed the night workers that he took. He would make her a part of his collection. Deep in his own hide away, he kept many.

Angela never did like the shadow of the Arachnos Base she was passing by now, it was too big, and way to luminous. The drones almost appeared alive as they floated on nothing, looking for any move of violence. The soldiers that watched over the base were never friendly, even though she did kind of like that blond haired one that patrolled sometimes. He never so much as smiled, but he was quite a looker.
"Momma would smack my face for these thoughts," she said to herself, even as her eyes scanned the wall of the base. She did not see him, only helmeted faces looking down with no emotion. He may well be one of them, for all she knew.
Angela turned north, and proceeded away from the base. The streets were quiet, and she had quite a walk home. How she ever ended up on this part of the island, she never knew. She use to work at the Tiki Club, but she lost the job when she refused to perform a private "dance" for the owner. She was a bar maid, she was willing to accept that. She was not a prostitute.
The crunching of rock behind her startled her a bit, but she made no move to even look. She only slightly picked up her pace. This was Mercy Island, a place of no mercy. However, she had little to offer in the way of money, even the good earnings she had tonight was not much to those with super powers. She had no enemies, and kept to herself, with only a few friends in her circle. Luckily she was friends with the one they called Mongoose, and she would be in sight of him in about ten minutes. He monitored things for Kalista, a strange and influential woman that worked for Arachnos to pick out worthy possible members.
The rocks crunching were closer now. She looked about, but there were no others out on this cold night. She was alone, well, alone except for whoever was following her. Her hand went to the revolver in her purse, and she left it there. No need to look like she wanted trouble if they really did not mean her harm.

He followed closer now, seeing no one about, he would be making his move soon. He would purposefully make noises, the more scared his victims, the better. He loved to torture, he loved to torment. It was who he was. It was what he did. The black woman picked up speed now, and he knew she knew. Her pace quickened, and would be a run if she went too much faster. He enjoyed this.
It was what he did.
His hand wrapped around a cloth, that had chloroform plenty on it. It would put her out quick, then he would take her to his den. He would have fun, maybe for days, with this strong one. She would not die quickly, not like the last one. The whole blue eyed blond hair experience was boring. She passed out from fear every time she opened her big eyes. Her screams were good, but so short lived. She died in less than a day, probably from fear alone. He sure didn't bleed her enough, unless she was already anemic. What a waste. Lickity split, lickity lip, she just made him more hungry.
Not this jewel he picked up on. He saw her a month ago, even before he took blondy home to mother. He did not feel like it was the right time. But now, oh now, it was time. He felt it, all over his body. The supradine bringing every bit of senses to on high. Oddly enough, it dulled the feelings of most people, but not him. Lickity split, he was the man, and he controlled what the drug did, it did not control what he did.
He was now close enough to hear her breathing, and it was hard for sure. A few paces closer, and he could reach her. No rocks to kick now, he had to be quick, he had to be quiet. It was okay, he was the man, and the man could do anything he wanted.
One more step, and he was close enough.
He almost fell over as the dark woman spun about, aiming what looked like a cannon, at his vantage point, right at him. The hammer was already in motion. The chamber was turning a round into place. He could see it all happening as if in slow motion.
The blast sounded like a cannon shot to Angela, as the weapon bucked in her hand, spitting .357 rounds from her Smith and Wesson at whoever was foolish enough to think her their victim. She was use to firing it, so the recoil did not mess her up. However, whoever this man was, he was able to drop and roll quite fast, saving his head from a new hole in it. He was also up and running, way too quick for a normal man, though she knew there were drugs that could do that. She did not unload the revolver on him, in fact, she only shot three rounds, leaving three, in case he came back. She had more rounds in her purse, but she did not unchamber. Just in case.
"Shoulda aimed at center mass, like I was told," she muttered, backing away a bit, then turning and running in the direction of the Mercy Island lifts. Mongoose would be there to greet her. He was some kind of ugly, but a tough nut that did not tolerate idiots messing with the general population.

Deep down in his den, he knew the sun was well up in the air, probably somewhere around 10 am. The ear that was nicked had dried up and was no longer bleeding. His den was dark, but he could see well anyway. Probably something to do with the supradine.
While he was no longer bleeding, he was full of blood. He enjoyed the blood. He enjoyed the screams of the young teen age girl he snatched as he fled to his underground lair. No one would hear her screams and pleas of help, not in this once snake hole. No one would venture down anyway, even if they did.
She was his, and while she would not last more than another hour, for the next hour, he was the man.
"Lickity split, lickity lip......"

"There are none others like me," He told the pastor. His strange eyes following the man around the church.
Pastor Victor Manfree, a thin man, always with a look of thoughtfulness. He wore a suit and tie daily, as if ready to give a sermon, or a funeral, in but a moment. Jerrin could not tell which. In this God forsaken place, Cap au Diable, it would stand to reason more and more that it would be a funeral.
"It is true, none I have met anyway," he looked the creature over. "You cause a feeling of anxiety to come over me Jerrin, something I am not very use to. What is your intent?"
"I mean you no harm, yet, my intent," he paused a moment in thought, time fleeting by. The preacher was use to such actions from the self proclaimed vampire.
"My intent is beyond even me. Why do you come to this broken down cathedral. It was abandoned by priests many years ago when the Rikti killed so many."
"Where else am I to go, Jerrin. I am a pastor with no sheep, and a preacher with a word no one wishes to hear. This place, in many ways, as broken as it is, mirrors my own ministry. Yet I do not feel released by God to go back to the states. Am I a fool Jerrin?"
Jerrin just gazed over the wreckage of the once grand church, the few pews that were left in tact scattered and unused. He knew some made it to the church, in need of something. Food, clothes, maybe just a friendly smile. Victor would always give them what they were in need of.
"Your beliefs are not mine, yet I cannot help but respect that you hold to them."
"Are you an atheist Jerrin," this time a smile forms on the lips of Victor. Jerrin does not return the smile, in fact, it may have been many years since a smile crossed the face of the bloodletter.
"One cannot be as cursed as I am and believe in something greater, yet, one cannot be as cursed as I am and not believe in the one that cursed him," and while Victor knew there had to be more to his thoughts, he did not push the vampire. He knew he was left alive by the creature only because he interested the creature in some strange way. In fact, Jerrin told him when they first actually met, though Jerrin had stalked and watched him many weeks prior, that he was an intended meal. That he may still become one, if he did not leave and abandon the church. Victor would not leave. That was about a year ago, and he was still alive.
"I suppose one can be cursed, the scriptures do speak of it. Yet it also speaks of redemption, and forgiveness."
"I am not ready to forgive," his face was as stone.
"I did not mean for you to forgive, but maybe to be forgiven," the same conversation they had many times over. Victor waited, then felt it, the rush of wind. He needn't look back, Jerrin was gone, as was the uneasy feeling of his presence.
"You can be forgiven my friend," he said to the wind.

Dave, you do realize, what you replied to me means nothing. You are still assuming way too much. I said I do not crunch the numbers, not that I do not take numbers into consideration. I personally do not get on my toon and watch each tick, and write down each %. So to you, the statement "not being a doctor..." would mean I distance myself from all doctors, and do not take their advice on health issues? With that said, if a doctor tells me to eat more brocholi, because it would be healthier for me, and I do not listen because I can't stand brocholi (actually I do like it but anyway), by your reasoning, my life is now over. Utterly rediculous.

And be frank, you did read all of my post, you just felt silly about your own replies. If not Frank, be Dave...just be the Dave. Stick to your New Year's Resolution, niceness goes a loooong way.

Nice, opens up new ideas for me to try this again. Thanks.

Kind of thinking of a low level magic user who decided to use technology to enhance his abilities. May focus concept on the whip in some way.
I have times I like to solo, and the rate of levelling does not matter on some toons, as probably would be the case with this one. Even when I do team, most times it is with fellow VG members, so offending others or hampering a team would not be a problem.

I play SS/Invuln as well, and have lotsa fun with it. If you use rage properly you may not ever notice the crash. I am not knocking those that may, but I do not use it for every mob set. I try to time it for the crash. While annoying, just make sure you only have minions left when you crash, and you wont have any issues with it.