BLACKOUT, BLOOD IN YOUR EYE [T]

[Deleted]

[0 | 5]
[0 | 125]

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[/i] differently.

Still, this injustice will only become evident if I am caught, which I have no intention of being.

In case you have not guessed: the urge is to kill.

My prey was already identified; uncharacteristically, the predator lurched and stumbled awkwardly, as though famished and impotent, down the path to their den, a modest but well-crafted estate of approximately four rooms. 'Twas of lakeside situation, a quiet place, isolated from the rest of society; the perfect stage. Here they waited, my prey, in the hole mistaken for a den; 'twas a trap they had unwittingly sprung.

My hauteur had been displaced; in its wake, an air of haplessness. I had removed my daytime attire along with my weaponry and stored it all in a simple cloth bag that I had tied securely to the branch of a tall tree. I had thereafter marked it with a telltale 'X' across its bark; it stood some five hundred meters down the road, easy to rediscover. The translucent nightgown and underlying black lingerie I now wore I had stolen from a clothesline in the village that lay about two miles from here. I had abused it, to add to the facade, even smeared dirt and dust across my cheek and various other areas; I looked every part the damsel in distress and, to the average male, as a woman free under the sun adorned with but the barest of fabric, quite idyllic, save perhaps for the addition of the grot. Depending on her nature, the wife may show reluctance, but I trusted the two males of the house - the alpha and his heir - would give me sanctuary, such as I was.

I staggered, doing my best to make my legs look weak and frail. Every so often, I would tilt forward, as though I could hardly bear to stand. Behind my spectacles and disheveled locks, my eyes - strawberry on vanilla, despite the internal darkness - blinked lazily every so often, as though I was halfway to fainting. 'Twas the boy that I ran into first. Already outdoors, he was standing upon the porch, staring out at the crystalline lake - that is, till my lurching motions grew close enough to catch his eye. How old was he? Difficult to tell. Thirteen, perhaps, though he could have easily been twelve, maybe even fifteen. In any case, likely old enough to be fascinated by the contours of my half-naked body, yet young enough to also be hopelessly intimidated by them. Still, as I made a show of spying him and redoubling my labored effort to reach the house, he did not flee to mother and father, but held his ground, eyes wide.

I was some ten meters from his standpoint when I decided to test his disposition, simply for the entertainment of it. I swayed to a halt, as though too exhausted to continue on. My weary visage did seek him; he was absolutely enraptured; I forced my arm to tremble as I lifted it slowly, and when it was aloft, I splayed my fingers, beseeching him, beckoning to him. My whole body quaked then; I fell upon one knee, then seemed hardly able to manage that. Still, he stood like a statue, utterly unsure of himself.

I thought it would be melodramatic - beyond what it already was - to call to him, or something of the sort, so I merely tilted over and came to rest upon the packed dirt, which was hard, but not near as uncomfortable as granite or sand or some such incarnation of the gaia.

I knew he would not flout the presence of the wayworn sylph. Either he would come to my aid himself, or he would rouse his parents.[/ul][/div][/font]

[N A T S U M I]

1|125 SP
+5; Very nice post.

[Deleted]

G_G

[0 | 5]
[1 | 125]

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[/b] He addressed me, and it took some composure for me not to frown at the way he did so. "Are you alright?" His commoner accent was thick enough, but then again, mine own was probably relatively strong, appallingly enough. Exertion pained me, as I made sure to remind him; my story was to be that I had been drugged, taken out to the forest and raped by one of the nearby village's denizens, and that the sedative still had a hold. To feign somnolence was ironically difficult when one contained such exuberance as I, but lassitude did have a way of making one appear less threatening.

"I..." Oh dear, and I could hardly wield my panoply of known words while inundated with mind-addling drugs, now could I? Drat. "I'm..." Ah yes, such a chore to formulate the scrambled thoughts into perspicable sentences, it was. "I need... do you have... parents?" I managed, but of course I knew; I had learned of this establishment from the days I had spent in the nearby village, and sussed it out for several days thereafter, only now on the approach after I had confirmed it was the perfect target.

Little friend to the adjacent town. Cut off from anywhere. None too many inhabitants. I could kill them all, and their bodies would not be discovered for days, perhaps weeks, by which time I would be long gone.

He nodded, and moved, evidently understanding the implication that he should fetch them, but not before I saw his eyes roam over my all but naked body. Internally, I giggled, but managed not to react. [/ul][/div][/font]

[Nekomata Minh]

+5 TP
You recieved: 2 SP
Hope you get an even higher role next time!! good luck!

[Deleted]

[0 | 5]
[3 | 125]

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[/b]- and then reversed in upon themselves; a door slammed like grape - quite a fine noise, in all honesty. Gosh, this pretense was a bore, but it did good to disarm one's victims before the killing began; it made the task that much cleaner, that much more efficient, much as it did on the battlefield. Without the weapon of suspicion in their hands, they were much less like to strike you back.

The true test would be the parents; the gullibility of children was easy to abuse, and if ever there was to be a casualty of my beguiling countenance it would be a teen boy, but adults were not quite so easy to fool... at least most often. My act would have to grow even more convincing to evade troublesome misgivings; there could be no fissures in my mask, not even the slightest chip. I doubted country folk would be the most intelligent or cynical of people, but they were a stepping stone. To speak of my tallest ambitions, I wished one day to be capable of bypassing the suspicion even of the militarily-trained, with all their supernatural forms of detection; thus far I had practiced only on peasants.

I heard a disturbance from within, marked by muffled vocals whose specifics I could not relay to you, then again did the doors unhinge; the sound of footsteps had redoubled. Retripled.

Oh no no, Ryoko, my dear. You mustn't smile.
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[Nekomata Minh]

Well this is a surprise...
+5 TP

You recieved: 12 SP

[Deleted]

[0 | 5]
[15 | 125]

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[/b] I heard a feminine voice exclaim, followed by a more masculine grunt that I was sure did not belong to the son. Their shadows were cast over me; ostensibly, it was the mother that had chosen to man my flank (judging by the gentle hands that came to rest upon my abdomen), for it was the squatting form of a male in his forties that came before me.

Predictably, for his residence, he was not a glamorous figure, but there was a certain gruff attractiveness about him, that I could grant; his locks were a dirty brown, his mauve eyes alight with genuine concern, or so it seemed. It was not beyond possibility that he was not the only one playing a part here. Apparently, such was the surrogate glaze of my own ruby eyes that he decided he would find out more information from his spouse (who was now fishing around my diaphanous attire, probably searching for wounds) than he would from me. "Is she hurt, Aya?"

The hands were intrusive, but I let them scrunch and slither without reaction. "I can't see any injuries..." My eyes moved but the barest amount, and I forced myself to produce a small, throaty groan, as though trying to speak and failing, just to ensure they knew I was in fact under stress. Hearing it, the ever-so-kind male placed his own hand upon my shoulder. "Don't worry, you're going to be alright," He assured me generically, and only in my mind did I whisper Indeed, but it is not my well-being that I would be concerned for.

"I don't know where she came from. She was just walkin' down the road when she collapsed right here." 

I wet my lips with my tongue before I 'tried' speaking once again. "Tsurui..." I uttered in response, referring to the nearby village. The father - the only one I could properly see - glanced up, and the pause thereafter told me they all shared in it.

"We'd better get you inside," Said the male, after a moment. "Can you walk?"

My response was a small, frightened whimper, which satisfied him instantly; he nodded. "We'll carry you, if you don't mind."

Passively, I closed my eyes, and subsequently felt a multitude of hands dig me out from my place upon the earth. So eager to touch, I mused with an internal grin. It would be interesting to see if I could inspire jealousy here, before I took all feeling from this unfortunate trio.

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[Father 'Suke]

+5 TP
+2 SP
17|125

[Deleted]

[0 | 5]
[17 | 125]

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[/b] Instructed the father, and it was so; I was laid ceremoniously upon a rather firm piece of furniture, though it was a substantial upgrade from hard soil. 

"Lift your head," I was urged gently by the father. I did so, and a cushion was slid snugly beneath my cranium. Hospitable, were these country folk. "Thank you," I sighed in falsified appreciation. Ah, my task had been a lot simpler than I had first anticipated; serving my every desire already, these people were surely suspecting little. The woman whose name - or at least sobriquet - was 'Aya' gave her husband a glance before laying a hand upon my forehead, checking for fever. I stared at her glassily once again. Fever I could not fake, but I did not need to; I was playing the part of being sedated, not ill. 

"She has no fever," The mother reported, and I shook my head the slightest increment upon my pillow in confirmation. "What is the matter with you, child?"

"Now now, Aya, we should ask her name first," Interjected the husband. Internally, I giggled. My blank stare had been on the boy, who now stood more towards the corner in passive observation, but I allowed it to swerve back to the husband as he spoke. "Girl?" Was all he asked.

I could have tried to look bewildered at such a vague question, but I was meant to have retained at least some of my senses. I blinked once. "...Ryoko..." I replied breathily.

You might have expected that I would use a moniker, but what would be the use? Not as though any of these people were like to see the morrow.

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[Father 'Suke]

+5 TP
+3 SP
20|125

[Deleted]

[Deleted]

[Enter]

[0 | 5]
[20 | 125]

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[/b] I had repeated back to me by the father, as though it were not the simplest thing to pronounce in the world. From my horizontal laying position, I nodded slowly at him. "And your last name?" He inquired further. For all their congeniality, these people were also rather nosy, were they not? "Furukawa," I elaborated truthfully, further sealing the fate of these people. They thought their questions innocent, but I could not afford to attach my name to the mysterious murders occurring all across the countryside.

And because I had not, the name was inconsequential to them; they assented to the presence of Ryoko Furukawa, heinous serial killer, without second thought. Being infamous would be a glorious thing, but troublesome, and there was a certain satisfaction in being cloaked in anonymity. Of course, throughout these thoughts, my face remained utterly sedate.

"What happened to you, Ryoko?" It was the mother speaking, now, squatting before me as she was. My red eyes - framed by unassuming, ivory sclera as I kept my malicious urges in check - moved lazily over to respond to her. The question appeared to upset me, as though I did not wish to recall; my eyes widened, my lip trembled, though from my 'inebriated' state, I was 'unable' to summon a more emphatic reaction.

"I... I think I was drugged, by a man from Tsurui, I think he..." My words were whimpered, and as I trailed off, my own hand snaked down my abdominal region; I sobbed once and screwed my eyes shut, curling in upon myself a little. This implicated womanly violation resurrected sympathy from the matron, or so it seemed from her tone of voice. "Oh... dear, you poor thing..." I heard.

Ah. This was so simple.[/ul][/div][/font]

[Deleted]

+5 for satan's favorite concubine.

+2 skill

[Deleted]

Mother of...

[0 | 5]
[22 | 125]

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[/b] She assured me, and I wanted to laugh in her face. But you are not safe with me, you IMBECILE! Yet I kept my countenance carefully composed, ensuring that no blackness seeped into my oculi as I opened them and stared, lip trembling, into her kind eyes. I nodded tremulously, before clutching myself even tighter. Ah, if only they knew the irony of Ryoko Furukawa complaining of sexual misdemeanor. If I had any sympathy, I think I would have honestly felt bad for these people.

"I think she should stay with us for a while," The father suggested, and the mother, after looking towards him, nodded in assent. Oh, this was an idyllic opportunity to lather on the honey even thicker. I forced myself to look up to where the alpha stood and gulped. "Thank you," I murmured. He bowed his head respectfully, which was nice of him. Their child had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, content, seemingly, to observe. I looked over to his corner and raised a tentative, weak hand in his direction, 'doing my best' to produce a small, rueful smile alongside it, as though to say, Guess we'll be staying with each other for a while.[/ul][/div][/font]

[Deleted]

+5tp
+4skill
narutoforumrp.proboards.com/thread/103073/skill-training-rolls?page=61&scrollTo=968121

[Deleted]

[0 | 10]

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[/i]"[/b]

The susurrus would invade his sleeping mind, scratching across its surface; even the silk of my voice would be invasive, unpleasant; how the mind, the body hated to be roused before it was good and ready. But it was for a purpose, dear thing. And I was sure he would agree.

I was grinning ear to ear, legitimately eager for him to wake, jittering up and down on the spot in my anticipation. I had been given additional clothing throughout the day, but had reduced myself to the lingerie I had walked in with. 'Twas night, now, and dark had set in; only candlelight illuminated the boy's bedroom, burning low but still flickering in defiance of the long dark.

He stirred, like a suckling babe in his crib, and rolled over to face me, rubbing at his eyes before he finally deigned to open them.

Immediately, his eyes pooled with horror, till they were positively brimming. Wordlessly, only gasping, he lurched back from me in fright, wrestling with the sheets of his bed before he finally managed to pin himself against the headrest. Only then did he properly take in what he was seeing, and he screamed. Please let this be a nightmare, I knew he would be thinking.

But oh, my dear, sweet child, it was so very real.

Dangled teasingly either side of my face were the faces of his parents. Without bodies, mind you, or heads, for that matter; mere faces, sliced neatly from their owner's skulls with the bloodied blade my right hand was also still clutching. Dripping blood, the faces were like unsightly tapestries of skin, sightless and without much of their features, but still evidently recognizable. They framed mine own horrifying visage; where once I had been a sedate, conventionally pretty, unassuming teen victim of rape and abduction, now I was a black-and-red-eyed demon, with veins of corruption spewing from their ducts and covering my face. Droplets of blood trickled little lines down my cheeks, so it almost looked like I was crying the residue, only that would have been remarkably peculiar, seeing as I was grinning euphorically from ear to ear.

The mouse-like fright in his eyes was so entertaining that I threw back my head and laughed, though the laughter grew mouths and consumed me, escalating itself into a mad cackle. Holding knives and fillets of flesh I bent double and clutched at my stomach, growing weak at the knees and dissolving into hysteria. Oh, and did I mentioned, dear child?

YOU ARE NEXT!!

But then I heard a violent cry of anguish and defiance, and felt his hands shove at me; sprawled, I half-heard and half-saw him dash past me, desperate to escape certain death. Unconcerned, I leaped to my feet, leaving the fillets of flesh behind but keeping a clutch on my blade. Ah, you see, I had wanted this, dear child; chasing three out into the woods would be a risky business, but just the one little suckling babe?

Sport.

I had murdered his parents in their beds, ending their lives in noiseless succession, but that did not mean I had not had fun with their corpses thereafter, as the boy found out whenst he flung his bedroom door wide and saw how I had hung them from the rafters in the living room. I had all but severed their limbs in my ecstatic yet silent cutting, and obviously where their familiar faces had been, only gaping, bloodied heads remained. He paused a moment, letting me gain on him, but the sound of my frenetic footsteps galvanized him into action, and, tears beginning to stream from his eyes, he barged past the corpses of his loved ones for the front door. I wove my way through the living room after him, snatching up the other kitchen knife I had used to entertain myself from its perch on the back of the sofa without pausing in my stride. I was like some animate shadow, ready to slice him to pieces the moment I got my hands on him...

He made it out the door, and flung himself from the porch. I was still grinning ear to ear, and when I reached the threshold of the outside world I paused a moment, watching him fade out into darkness, letting him extend the gap. I held a knife in each hand, now, and seeing as I had recovered my equipment after nightfall, my other blades were strapped to my leg, and pocketed at my back. I had plenty of tools to deal with him, and the knives I was holding were not even my own.

I held my left arm out like the stock of a crossbow, lining him up in my sights; the tip of the blade tracked his frantic departure for a couple of moments, ensuring my aim was proper. I bit down on my tongue, too hard, almost drawing blood but not noticing for all my adrenaline. One of my ebon eyes was shut against the outside darkness, ensuring my perceptions were not skewed. Then, with a wild grunt, I pitched the blade into the night.

It spun end over end; once, twice, three times, maybe more. I had not aimed it high, mind you; not for the back of his skull, or something so banally final as all that. Nay, I had aimed for his lower half; his left thigh, specifically. In a string of seconds that was infinitely satisfying, my throw zoomed in on the desired plane of flesh and embedded itself with a wet thud that was audible in the lakeside tranquil, broken only by his footfalls, sobbing, and now his cry of agony as he felt the cold, searing metal pierce the rear of his leg and emerge on the other side, throwing a metaphorical wrench into the engine of his body.

He fell to his knees, groaning, crying and clutching. By contrast, my smirk widened; I descended the few steps down from the perch slowly, evenly, alighting eventually upon the gaia. He must have heard my footfalls, for his tear-stricken face came around to look at me. Recognition of his peril redoubled, he groped at the handle of the blade in the back of his leg and tore it free, gasping more and even cursing in all his pain, before forcing himself to ascend and continue at a hobble, which would only really be possible so long as his body was charging itself full of adrenaline in a desperate attempt to escape the devil at its back.

My grin had relaxed into one of more lassitudinous pleasure. This was none so much a hunt now as torture. At a steady walk, I was almost as swift as his frenetic staggering. He was crying for true now, realizing the inevitability of death but too stubborn, too panicked to surrender to it. A line of his progenitor's blood had descended to my lips; I licked it away, before switching the right-handed blade to my left side, and raising it in a similar fashion to before, this time whilst moving at a steady pace. This would unsettle my accuracy, but then again, my target's movement had been severely crippled.

The moonlight was not bright enough; I could not see the way hot blood would be leaking from the wound I had already created in him, but I knew it would be, trickling down into the ground and leaving bloody tracks in the dust. After another second of deliberate pointing, by which point I was just passing the place where he had removed and discarded the first, I tossed projectile numero dos.

To my satisfaction, it, too, found its mark in the rear of his right shin. Again, he cried out into the apathetic darkness, and fell to the terra, which, by contrast, embraced him, and would beg for him to stay, which was all in my interest. This time, he seemed not to have the strength to wrench the blade from his flesh. Gasping and crying, he sufficed to begin using his arms to push him forwards, and now he was lying upon the ground where I had collapsed this morning - roughly. Ah, poetry.

I had caught up to him, and I descended upon his hapless form, drawing the blade out from his gastrocnemius as I did so. He gasped again; at such close proximity, it tasted of white chocolate. Again, I licked my lips, and rolled him over so that he had to look at me. I held the razor edge to his neck. Sweating, crying, panting, he truly was synonymous with a frightened animal. Hell with it; he was only human: he was a frightened animal.

Excellent work, little thing, I heard in my own ears, a susurrus that only I could perceive. The approval brought a new grin to my face. "P-please..." He begged frantically, holding his arms up against the earth in surrender. His beseeching could not, unfortunately, touch a heart that did not exist. "Poor, lost child..." I said to him, not responding. I looked at him with woe. "Where have your parents gone? Are you all alone in the world?"

He began to cry again, screwing his eyes shut. "Oh, my, my..." Said I, leaning in further. Fortunately for him, I was not in the mood to molest anybody. Maybe another day... though not a day he would get to see. Paralyzed, he did not move against me, as I knew he wouldn't; the duress his mind had endured in recent moments had shattered it. My mouth was at his ear; I used my lips to brush away a stray lock of his platinum hair.

"Let's bring you back to them," Said I, and sharply drew the knife against his neck, creating just a deep enough incision to sever an artery. I quickly raised myself up to witness the way he gasped as his life quickly leaked from him, staring at him not with derision, or malevolence, but fascination, even adoration. I loved them when they were dying.

As a disclaimer, I did not actually believe in an afterlife, but it was likely that he did, and that was amusing enough to mock.

I could see the light in his eyes begin to fade and, as a parting gift, I kissed him on the lips, crushing my body against his own, keeping my wide, demonic eyes perfectly open so that they were all he saw in his final moments. And then he was completely still, and he could no longer see anything. I raised myself off him and swallowed the blood that had gushed up into my mouth from his own.

And then... all was quiet, save for the hoot of a far off owl. Straddling his corpse, I looked up at the moon, and sighed in contentment.

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[Father 'Suke]

Learned

So sadistically lovely, I love it.

[Deleted]

[0 | 5]

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[/i]pleasure. Plus, to be able to throw the weapons strapped at one's belt was a good skill to have under it, if you follow.

As such, the trio of bodies - man, wife and child - had been strung up from the alcoves of the porch they previously owned. They rotated ever so gently in the breeze; pallid, stained dummies; targets. I had to commend them - they had kept their kitchen knives in quite good condition! The one I held had not been swiped clean of blood at any point, and was now smothered in it in various layers of crustiness. I myself stood a good ten meters from where they hung. The matriarch was in the center: to her left, the boy; to the right, her man. None of them had faces anymore, for I had shaved them all off their skulls and sewn them onto the pillows they had laid me down upon when I arrived. A skillful cook and seamstress, had been the mother, as evident by the supplies she kept - what a worthy corpse!

I would adorn her further, I promised her that. I held her blade up as though about to throw it, experimentally, though this time I wanted to make sure my posture was absolutely perfect; I straightened it probably more than I needed to. I frowned over my slight grin - an odd mismatch of facial expressions - as I shuffled my feet about, trying to find the most comfortable, most natural-feeling stance to occupy before I extended my throw. 

It took a moment of pedantic shuffling, but finally I found what felt proper; my brows alleviated themselves, and I was once again smiling with contentment. I took one more moment, biting down upon my lip while hardly displacing that grin, before I chucked the weapon again, keeping my arm straight through the motion; I watched the blade sail end over end, and though it was not as exciting relieved of the expectation of it hitting and crippling living flesh, the damp thunk of collision with the matriarch's body was still satisfying; I moaned involuntarily before I bit down on my lip again; the body began to sway to and fro. 

That had been near to perfect, I thought. I had hit center mass, precisely as I was aiming. I moved over to retrieve the domestic blade-weapon.

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[Father 'Suke]

Learned

[Deleted]

[0 | 10]

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[/i] of the wrist to resurrect. Sightless eyeballs gaped incredulously at my practice. I smiled unabashedly at the mutilated face of dearest 'Aya' before returning to my previous position, yet another gash now subtly leaking from her, though for the most part the bodies had been entirely drained of their fluids already; if one were to venture inside the little cottage they would find almost the whole floor slippery, coated with a thin film of human residue.

This time, as I re-assumed the rudimentary stance I had concocted for myself, my blood-colored eyes did seek a more specific target upon the woman's mottled, tattered person. She was still mostly whole, but my vision cut her cleanly into portions; head, neck, heart, upper arms, forearms, hands, thighs, shin, feet, etcetera... my oculi darted this way and that; I waited for some specific portion of her flesh to inevitably take my fancy.

As it so happens, it was became her right shin. Quite a pleasant shin, it had to be admitted, though it was assisted by the rivers of crusted blood that adorned it. I meditated upon my target by levering my throwing arm down toward it a few times over, as though pulling my aim in further and further upon a narrow point; as though it would assist me. Perhaps indeed it did help to sharpen the mind and practice the throwing motion, though it was a far ways off of the action proper. That was a great deal more violent, celeritous and explosive; a different beast.

A beast that had best be tended to. With one final, accelerate motion I drew my throwing arm back further and then pitched it in opposite extreme, leasing it from my grasping fingers to swing in a vertical downward rotation as it arced through the air; end over end, the relatively heavy cleaved spun and spun and spun and took my dearest Aya right in the... kneecap.

My countenance, having been so sedate moments ago, flared into annoyance. My red eyes spat sparks and my mouth went all a-snarl. As Aya recoiled in a melancholic, thoroughly dead fashion I snatched a throwing knife from the strap 'round my left thigh and raised it again at her corpse, scowling irritably. I had not hit my mark. An imperfect throw; an inexact toss! Unacceptable. I would make it right. Bleed for me, my darling. From a CORRECTLY LOCATED ORIFICE, if you please.

My shots needed to be precise; precise without falter. This knife was smaller, well-balanced; designed to be a projectile. I could toss this like a dart, rather than having to pitch it as I had the uneven cleaver. It snaked comfortably betwixt my primary fingers, its blackness a sheen beneath the morning sunlight. I lined it up as I had my previous weapon, concentrating even more intensely upon a needlepoint on my darling's bare shin. As I levered my arm, it almost seemed to crank my grin back into existence, building with it certainty: this time I will not fail.

To test the myth, I cast my arm out one final time, leasing the deadly blade flatly, without waver; it sailed like a dart through the atmosphere and bit hungrily into Aya's shinbone, again causing her corpse some distress. I grinned.

I told you I would not fail, my darling.

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