"You hunt monsters as well?!" His eyes widened in surprise as he processed the information. He leaned back slightly, studying the man in front of him with a scrutinizing gaze. It wasn't often that he encountered someone who hunted monsters, let alone meeting two individuals with the same unusual profession that looked eerily similar. The royal was careful to maintain his composed demeanor, but his tone likely betrayed it.
As he took a closer look at Sam, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly as he considered the possibility that the man he'd spoken to before was Dean, "I think I've met this Dean. The man I mentioned before? Rude, not forthcoming with information, no style..."
As he took a closer look at Sam, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly as he considered the possibility that the man he'd spoken to before was Dean, "I think I've met this Dean. The man I mentioned before? Rude, not forthcoming with information, no style..."
prog knife. wrote:
"Yeah, neither's my roommate. I'm like that too sometimes, but I think it's good to meet new people!" Asuka wasn't good at it, but she tried. She was just a little abrasive for most. The drink is placed in the middle of the table by a Pretty shady-looking waiter, along with some straws. "Whaddya do? Like what's your job and stuff..?" Asuka sticks a straw in and sips.
Aidan eyed his drink, not even sure why he bothered with it. But he might as well, so he picked it up and pressed the glass to his lips. The moment the liquid entered his mouth, it evaporated into steam and bellows out like gray misty smoke. "I'm a Hunter."
She glances around to the other patrons of the establishment. "Seems like the career path of a lot of people here... me too, I guess. Angels." Alarming, probably. "I don't mind it, usually. It makes people like me more." She grabs the glass when he's done and takes a significantly longer swig. Let's hope she could hold her alcohol well. Spoiler: She couldn't "It scares me, though... Sometimes it feels pointless. Like the whole thing won't end or pay off, it just makes me hate myself less because I'm told that I do something that matters."
He was surprised she hunted angels and wondered why she would do that. But she also didn't say she hunted the good ones because the bad ones could be called angels too even if the most common name for them were demons. But what she said hits close to home for him, "Its like you're fighting a never ending war you know you can't win, but you press on anyway." He seemed to understand, "Same here."
Emmyth Yhetui wrote:
"You hunt monsters as well?!" His eyes widened in surprise as he processed the information. He leaned back slightly, studying the man in front of him with a scrutinizing gaze. It wasn't often that he encountered someone who hunted monsters, let alone meeting two individuals with the same unusual profession that looked eerily similar. The royal was careful to maintain his composed demeanor, but his tone likely betrayed it.
As he took a closer look at Sam, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly as he considered the possibility that the man he'd spoken to before was Dean, "I think I've met this Dean. The man I mentioned before? Rude, not forthcoming with information, no style..."
As he took a closer look at Sam, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly as he considered the possibility that the man he'd spoken to before was Dean, "I think I've met this Dean. The man I mentioned before? Rude, not forthcoming with information, no style..."
Sam nodded, slightly confused by the reaction. 'As well?' Though he pushed the thought aside, there were a lot of hunters out there. It wouldn't be impossible for him to run in to another at this bar.
He then chuckled at the description the man gave. No, that wasn't Dean at all. "Must have met someone else. Dean is...charismatic. Kind, he hasn't met, well, anyone that didn't end up liking him. He's got a good since of style."
It's been so long since he'd seen his brother. He missed him.
One week earlier...
Rowdy wiped the dual axe blades down with a torn shirt from one of his most recent victims. The blood and tissue leaving a chunky residue on the fabric. He had devastated yet another encampment of hunters. In his last siege, he discovered black powder and how to use it. It made the perfect distraction when he raided this newest camp. He set a few bombs around the encampment with different-length fuses so he created a heap of confusion. Once he got the humans running in different directions it was easy to start the killing spree.
Between a razor-sharp short sword, a half dozen daggers, and his axes the unexpecting humans stood no chance. A dozen corpses now littered the gathering of tents, and their boat was left for his pillaging. He loaded his boat up with food and water supplies first, making sure he had about a month's worth. Then he took his time picking through and playing with the weapons. He found a fantastic harpoon and was quick to unbolt it from their ship and install it on his. It was a trick to gather the spears as they were pure silver, which would burn his flesh should he come into direct contact with it. He had to wrap them in a blanket to carry them onto his ship. He replenished his supply of black powder and gathered a few more nick knacks. He made sure to break the telegraph machine and toss it over the side of the ship. He then took clothes and jackets so he could replace the ones he ruined in his attacks on the hunters or wore out over time. Satisfied, using some of the black powder, he set fire to the hunters' ship and then their camp. Rowdy sailed away and watched the flames flicker in the deep, moonless, night.
He was an infamous hunter of all other supernatural hunters. Maybe not his name but his game was well known amongst those that might end up on the business end of his sword or musket. Rowdy wasn't born to be a hunter like so many had been. He had been an out of shape, couch potato before. No, hunters had made him what he was today. They had created their own worst nightmare when they had attacked and devastated his pack in Canada's Vancouver Island. Killing a werewolf's pack was unlike any emotion that a human could experience. Contemplate, if you can, a sky of stars all linked together, fueling each other, keeping each one in the proper place in the Heavens. Then, without warning, turn all but one off. The loneliness is uncanny, and it left Rowdy with an emptiness that he thought only revenge would fill. But he had trained, spied, hunted, and killed mercilessly for years now and that same emptiness still persisted in that place where his heart once was.
He had heard about the Hell Bar through whisperings and rumors in port towns where he drank himself sober most nights, just trying to stay three steps ahead of the loneliness that threatened to pull him into such a dark place there would be no coming back. He had sailed to the very edge of the Earth and struck bargains with some of the most unsavory characters one could want to meet to find this place. His hope: To find a demon, or Satan, or someone more powerful than himself to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to make the emptiness stop. No, mellow dramatic, he isn't looking for death. He is looking for someone who will hire him to do what he does best, kill.
Present Day...
It took longer to get to this God forsaken place than any rumor had warned him about, but here he was. He left all visible weaponry in his boat, not wanting to enter and immediately start a fight. Though, to be honest, with Rowdy around, a fight very well could occur. Shit, his name wasn't Rowdy for nothing. He was adorned in black leather boots, well broken in and worn in places. Black canvas pants, sturdy yet comfortable. A leather belt with a silver buckle, yeah it burned like Hell to put on, but it would serve its purpose if he came across any other creatures that couldn't stand contact with silver; belts were great weapons. A hunter green button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing tattoos up and down each arm, was tucked in his pants and covered mostly with a wool vest that was buttoned up.
As the door was unceremoniously pushed opened for him to saunter in, his icy blue eyes scanned the room, looking for threats. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and Rowdy had to tense all the muscles in his body to prevent his wolf from exploding out of him. That smell. He knew that smell. A hunter. But this was unfamiliar territory for the wolf, and he managed to keep himself under control. his saunter turned shaky as he wandered his way over to the bar. Sitting down was difficult when everything in his body wanted him to turn and lunge, but he managed it. In a low voice, his teeth gritted, he requested a drink for the bartender. "You got something back there strong enough to make an alcoholic wince?" Rowdy wasn't an alcoholic by any means. His body temperature was too high and his metabolism too fast for him to be drunk for long. If he was going to drink, he wanted to feel it, however briefly.
Rowdy wiped the dual axe blades down with a torn shirt from one of his most recent victims. The blood and tissue leaving a chunky residue on the fabric. He had devastated yet another encampment of hunters. In his last siege, he discovered black powder and how to use it. It made the perfect distraction when he raided this newest camp. He set a few bombs around the encampment with different-length fuses so he created a heap of confusion. Once he got the humans running in different directions it was easy to start the killing spree.
Between a razor-sharp short sword, a half dozen daggers, and his axes the unexpecting humans stood no chance. A dozen corpses now littered the gathering of tents, and their boat was left for his pillaging. He loaded his boat up with food and water supplies first, making sure he had about a month's worth. Then he took his time picking through and playing with the weapons. He found a fantastic harpoon and was quick to unbolt it from their ship and install it on his. It was a trick to gather the spears as they were pure silver, which would burn his flesh should he come into direct contact with it. He had to wrap them in a blanket to carry them onto his ship. He replenished his supply of black powder and gathered a few more nick knacks. He made sure to break the telegraph machine and toss it over the side of the ship. He then took clothes and jackets so he could replace the ones he ruined in his attacks on the hunters or wore out over time. Satisfied, using some of the black powder, he set fire to the hunters' ship and then their camp. Rowdy sailed away and watched the flames flicker in the deep, moonless, night.
He was an infamous hunter of all other supernatural hunters. Maybe not his name but his game was well known amongst those that might end up on the business end of his sword or musket. Rowdy wasn't born to be a hunter like so many had been. He had been an out of shape, couch potato before. No, hunters had made him what he was today. They had created their own worst nightmare when they had attacked and devastated his pack in Canada's Vancouver Island. Killing a werewolf's pack was unlike any emotion that a human could experience. Contemplate, if you can, a sky of stars all linked together, fueling each other, keeping each one in the proper place in the Heavens. Then, without warning, turn all but one off. The loneliness is uncanny, and it left Rowdy with an emptiness that he thought only revenge would fill. But he had trained, spied, hunted, and killed mercilessly for years now and that same emptiness still persisted in that place where his heart once was.
He had heard about the Hell Bar through whisperings and rumors in port towns where he drank himself sober most nights, just trying to stay three steps ahead of the loneliness that threatened to pull him into such a dark place there would be no coming back. He had sailed to the very edge of the Earth and struck bargains with some of the most unsavory characters one could want to meet to find this place. His hope: To find a demon, or Satan, or someone more powerful than himself to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to make the emptiness stop. No, mellow dramatic, he isn't looking for death. He is looking for someone who will hire him to do what he does best, kill.
Present Day...
It took longer to get to this God forsaken place than any rumor had warned him about, but here he was. He left all visible weaponry in his boat, not wanting to enter and immediately start a fight. Though, to be honest, with Rowdy around, a fight very well could occur. Shit, his name wasn't Rowdy for nothing. He was adorned in black leather boots, well broken in and worn in places. Black canvas pants, sturdy yet comfortable. A leather belt with a silver buckle, yeah it burned like Hell to put on, but it would serve its purpose if he came across any other creatures that couldn't stand contact with silver; belts were great weapons. A hunter green button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing tattoos up and down each arm, was tucked in his pants and covered mostly with a wool vest that was buttoned up.
As the door was unceremoniously pushed opened for him to saunter in, his icy blue eyes scanned the room, looking for threats. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and Rowdy had to tense all the muscles in his body to prevent his wolf from exploding out of him. That smell. He knew that smell. A hunter. But this was unfamiliar territory for the wolf, and he managed to keep himself under control. his saunter turned shaky as he wandered his way over to the bar. Sitting down was difficult when everything in his body wanted him to turn and lunge, but he managed it. In a low voice, his teeth gritted, he requested a drink for the bartender. "You got something back there strong enough to make an alcoholic wince?" Rowdy wasn't an alcoholic by any means. His body temperature was too high and his metabolism too fast for him to be drunk for long. If he was going to drink, he wanted to feel it, however briefly.
Emmyth's expression soured as he processed the revelation that Dean and Sam were not, in fact, twins. He let out a disgruntled "Hmph." his disappointment clear on his face, he wasn't fond of being wrong.
He turned his gaze to Sam, studying his expression with a critical eye. "Well, he certainly wasn't charismatic." he muttered, his tone tinged with annoyance. Emmyth couldn't help but notice the somber expression that seemed to be etched onto Sam's face, and he frowned. "Tell me you don't hunt with that ghastly solemn expression on your face." he remarked dryly.
As he spoke, Emmyth's attention was drawn to another figure who had just entered the bar - a massive, intimidating man who looked as if he was contemplating tearing the place apart with his bare hands. Despite the newcomer's imposing presence, Emmyth didn't hesitate to give him a judgmental once-over, his gaze lingering for just a moment before he returned his attention to Sam. "This whole bar is filled with giants." he muttered under his breath, his distaste evident.
Emmyth raised his glass to his lips, his fingers wrapped delicately around the stem. He took a measured sip, savoring the complex flavors of the drink as they danced across his palate. The liquid was cool and refreshing, and it offered a welcome respite from the warm, stuffy air of the bar. As he swallowed, Emmyth let out a soft sigh of contentment, his eyes closing briefly in pleasure.
The royal leaned in closer to Sam, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial kind of whisper. "Have you also battled a... Rugaroo, was it?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he butchered the pronunciation.
He turned his gaze to Sam, studying his expression with a critical eye. "Well, he certainly wasn't charismatic." he muttered, his tone tinged with annoyance. Emmyth couldn't help but notice the somber expression that seemed to be etched onto Sam's face, and he frowned. "Tell me you don't hunt with that ghastly solemn expression on your face." he remarked dryly.
As he spoke, Emmyth's attention was drawn to another figure who had just entered the bar - a massive, intimidating man who looked as if he was contemplating tearing the place apart with his bare hands. Despite the newcomer's imposing presence, Emmyth didn't hesitate to give him a judgmental once-over, his gaze lingering for just a moment before he returned his attention to Sam. "This whole bar is filled with giants." he muttered under his breath, his distaste evident.
Emmyth raised his glass to his lips, his fingers wrapped delicately around the stem. He took a measured sip, savoring the complex flavors of the drink as they danced across his palate. The liquid was cool and refreshing, and it offered a welcome respite from the warm, stuffy air of the bar. As he swallowed, Emmyth let out a soft sigh of contentment, his eyes closing briefly in pleasure.
The royal leaned in closer to Sam, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial kind of whisper. "Have you also battled a... Rugaroo, was it?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he butchered the pronunciation.
A door has appeared on the floor of the bar. White, with a simple black star engraved on it. An odd sight, probably, but hey-- This place was at the edge of Hell, so maybe it's not even that weird after all. The door is open and a figure walks out of it... sideways, like there was some sort of floor on the other side. Though if one looked in, they'd only be met with pitch blackness. The figure in question was.... surprisingly mundane-looking. Blue hair, done up in a ponytail, a white tank-top, grey yoga pants, and a black and blue plaid jacket adorned the woman's frame. The jacket had a badge on it, with text stating 'Hello, my name is: Ramona!' above a photo of her with entirely different hair. Purple, short, with two pieces hanging down next to either side of her face. Her eyes were a different color, too. The bottom of the badge revealed who she worked for. Who could this mysterious lady that seemed to change her appearance constantly be working for? Apparently just... Amazon. The Canadian branch, but still--
"Did... did any of you guys order this?" The woman reaches into a bag slung over her shoulder, and pulls out a small box. "It's a uh..." Ramona lurches forward, squinting at the label.
"It's Sonic the Hedgehog-- Did anyone here order a copy of Sonic The Hedgehog?"
"Did... did any of you guys order this?" The woman reaches into a bag slung over her shoulder, and pulls out a small box. "It's a uh..." Ramona lurches forward, squinting at the label.
"It's Sonic the Hedgehog-- Did anyone here order a copy of Sonic The Hedgehog?"
Sam chuckled at the 'solemn expression comment.
"Guess it depends on the hunt."
He responded, thinking back to several he and his brother had over the years. Some got pretty dark, well, darker than most.
That was when the man clad in what appeared to be combat clothing entered.
It was like the air itself seemed to shift. A tension so thick that it almost felt like someone could physically cut it. Sam tensed, every hunter instinct, and other instinct, in his body told him something was off about the man who just entered. He wasn't human.
But Sam battled down his own instincts, forced himself to take a drink. He wasn't one to judge, even if he was a raised a hunter. Sam wasn't entirely human himself, or so he believed. What normal human had psychic abilities that got stronger by drinking demon blood? Or could hold the devil himself without their physical form and soul being ripped to shreds?
With every instinct in his body telling him to be ready to fight, Sam let his guard down.
"Rugarus?"
He asked.
"Yeah, Dean and I hunted a few in the past. We haven't....really worried about them in awhile.
He slowed down there towards the end, realizing that they hadn't been on a normal hunt for some time. Sam more so, but even before he threw himself in the pit, it had been awhile.
"Guess it depends on the hunt."
He responded, thinking back to several he and his brother had over the years. Some got pretty dark, well, darker than most.
That was when the man clad in what appeared to be combat clothing entered.
It was like the air itself seemed to shift. A tension so thick that it almost felt like someone could physically cut it. Sam tensed, every hunter instinct, and other instinct, in his body told him something was off about the man who just entered. He wasn't human.
But Sam battled down his own instincts, forced himself to take a drink. He wasn't one to judge, even if he was a raised a hunter. Sam wasn't entirely human himself, or so he believed. What normal human had psychic abilities that got stronger by drinking demon blood? Or could hold the devil himself without their physical form and soul being ripped to shreds?
With every instinct in his body telling him to be ready to fight, Sam let his guard down.
"Rugarus?"
He asked.
"Yeah, Dean and I hunted a few in the past. We haven't....really worried about them in awhile.
He slowed down there towards the end, realizing that they hadn't been on a normal hunt for some time. Sam more so, but even before he threw himself in the pit, it had been awhile.
Emmyth's interest in the conversation seemed to wane as Sam spoke, his eyes wandering around the room as he appeared to be losing focus. Despite his attempt to appear unengaged, he couldn't help but listen intently to every word being said. His gaze was cool and scrutinizing as he looked back and watched Sam talk. He found himself on the verge of interrupting to inquire further when the door to the bar swung open, and in stepped a woman. Her entrance was nothing short of captivating, and Emmyth couldn't help but turn his attention to her.
As Zephir made her way over to the bar, Emmyth sat up straighter in his seat, his chest subtly pushing forward in an effort to appear more impressive. His eyes drank her in, and for the first time that night, he found himself completely enraptured. Unlike with Sam or any other patron of the bar, Emmyth's gaze was gentle and admiring as he studied Zephir. He watched in silence as she spoke with Sam before taking a seat opposite him.
Emmyth's lips parted in awe as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Zephir's face. "What a radiant creature." he breathed. "It's as if the universe's delight has poured itself into her." He raised his glass to his lips, taking a delicate sip as he continued to take in her beauty, his eyes examining the soft curves of her face. There was a genuine kindness in his tone that was absent from his usual boastful demeanor.
As he lowered his glass, his tone shifted again, taking on a teasing lilt as he glanced over at Sam. "Do you feel tempted, Sam?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips.
As Zephir made her way over to the bar, Emmyth sat up straighter in his seat, his chest subtly pushing forward in an effort to appear more impressive. His eyes drank her in, and for the first time that night, he found himself completely enraptured. Unlike with Sam or any other patron of the bar, Emmyth's gaze was gentle and admiring as he studied Zephir. He watched in silence as she spoke with Sam before taking a seat opposite him.
Emmyth's lips parted in awe as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Zephir's face. "What a radiant creature." he breathed. "It's as if the universe's delight has poured itself into her." He raised his glass to his lips, taking a delicate sip as he continued to take in her beauty, his eyes examining the soft curves of her face. There was a genuine kindness in his tone that was absent from his usual boastful demeanor.
As he lowered his glass, his tone shifted again, taking on a teasing lilt as he glanced over at Sam. "Do you feel tempted, Sam?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips.
Makima takes a seat in a booth at the corner of the bar, a trench coat worn over her work uniform. A beer bottle is held tightly in her hand, by the neck, with the woman taking occasional sips.
You are on: Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Hell Bar 18+ (Open)
Moderators: Mina, Keke, Cass, Claine, Sanne, Dragonfire, Ilmarinen, Darth_Angelus