Rogerd
2011-08-27, 01:44 PM
Blood Dimmed Darkness (nWOD) - IC
For the mortals of New York City things continued as normal, most were completely unaware of the supernatural beings that were in their midst, going with their daily routine. Only a few knew things went bump in the night, some even went bump during the daytime too, caring nothing for the insignificant little creatures on whom they fed, used in various power games. Today Randolph Carter III stood poudly in his study, admiring the view of his garden - each bush neatly trimmed and shaped, the grass cut and foliage neatly pruned. But not by him.
This was done by his garder, Marcus Smith, a rather slim old man, with greying hair and a somewhat dour manner. All of which he saved for anyone that dared to mess with his plants. In fact several years ago a couple of hoodlums had crept over the ten foot wall and kicked some prized roses to pieces. Neither they nor their bodies were even found, except the odd leg or limb found dozens of miles away. Of course no blame was attached to the Carter household - who himself was early sixty, the gardener was even older.
He looked back towards his desk, puffing on his cigar, a smile alighting his features. Soon the time would be right and he would act, but for now let the human inside whom he rode some element of free will. For despite 'looking' sixty, Carter was as spry as any athlete, intelligent as any nobel prize winner - such were the boos he brought. Not all his kind were like this, but he had destroyed those who tried to aid the monkeys of this worthless planet. Soon the Urphage would rise and destroy this feeble city and with it would open the doors to its kind.
For the mortals of New York City things continued as normal, most were completely unaware of the supernatural beings that were in their midst, going with their daily routine. Only a few knew things went bump in the night, some even went bump during the daytime too, caring nothing for the insignificant little creatures on whom they fed, used in various power games. Today Randolph Carter III stood poudly in his study, admiring the view of his garden - each bush neatly trimmed and shaped, the grass cut and foliage neatly pruned. But not by him.
This was done by his garder, Marcus Smith, a rather slim old man, with greying hair and a somewhat dour manner. All of which he saved for anyone that dared to mess with his plants. In fact several years ago a couple of hoodlums had crept over the ten foot wall and kicked some prized roses to pieces. Neither they nor their bodies were even found, except the odd leg or limb found dozens of miles away. Of course no blame was attached to the Carter household - who himself was early sixty, the gardener was even older.
He looked back towards his desk, puffing on his cigar, a smile alighting his features. Soon the time would be right and he would act, but for now let the human inside whom he rode some element of free will. For despite 'looking' sixty, Carter was as spry as any athlete, intelligent as any nobel prize winner - such were the boos he brought. Not all his kind were like this, but he had destroyed those who tried to aid the monkeys of this worthless planet. Soon the Urphage would rise and destroy this feeble city and with it would open the doors to its kind.