[Rooftops] A dangerous night (closed)

[Faruq]

It was a dark and stormy night. So dark... darker than blood in the moonlight. Which Faruq was intimitely familiar with. He'd seen more blood in his 600 years than he could even describe. He was perched on a rooftop in Syliras, looking down at the streets with loathing. This city was just full of innocent citizens waiting to be killed. And he was more than happy to oblige them. Commoners, merchants, noblemen or knights - he didn't care. They all tasted the same to him. He spotted a group of knights patrolling the streets, harassing some poor shmuck who happened to be walking the wrong way down the street. He felt the hunger for blood boiling inside him, and decided it was time to kill some people. And then eat them. Yeah. Badass. He snapped out his wrist blades and, silent as death or fog or some other really quiet thing, he lept from the top of the roof. The was a really loud crash as he landed on one of the knights and stabbed his blades into the man's throat, tearing it open wide and opening his mouth so it could spray into it. "Delicious," he growled as the other four knights stared in horror at what he'd done. He just grinned and let his fangs show so they could piss themselves in fear. "You've never seen anything like me, have you?" he yelled, and then launched himself off the already cooling body to take down another knight, sinking his teeth into the man's throught, which was easy because of his super-strong vampiric strength.

[Darrian Astor]

Dark, cold. Darrian held his hands firmly across his bare chest, which was revealed only through the hoodie that was unzipped from top to bottom. The young man exhaled slowly, the cloudy white vapors pushing through his lips like the very pain of his heart, reaching into existence in an explosion of sorrow and anger. Darrian was miserable. Darrian had been miserable since the day he was left by his mother and father. Knights of Syliras? Hardly honorable. Those bitches didn't even try to understand their son. So what if he wasn't normal? So what if his nails grew naturally black and his lips or a dark red color? He was still their son? They didn't see it though. They left him on the streets to walk through the frost-tainted streets of Syliras. Darrian shivered violently, not because of the cool air or the frosty breath that danced from between his lips on his tongue like the smoke of his cigarettes that he had grown so attached to, but because his own heart was bleeding. Torn by the very dividing factors of agony, the cold treatment offered to him turned his chest to ice. He could feel his own sorrow like the bite of winter, as strong as it was now. Darrian walked without motivation, without destination, without purpose, without reason, yet when he saw many knights walking towards him, boys he had known as he grew up, he felt a sickening fear grip a hold of him. They were notorious for being cruel. There was no regard for Darrian's feelings as they grew up, not together, but at the same time as each other. Darrian wanted to jump in an alleyway, to move out of their path, but decided not to attract their attention unnecessarily. If he just walked normally, then perhaps they wouldn't recognize him. "Well, well, well. Look, it's our old friend, Darrian." Darrian didn't even have a chance to respond before he felt the sharp pain reaching into his chest and branching out towards every limb in his body. The fist, the Knight's hand gloved in steel, was more than just painful. It was a cruel reminder that Darrian was alone, truly misunderstood. Even those that were closest to him, these five knights, were no better than enemies on a battlefield. Darrian reached down, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he winced. Winced, but would not cry out. Darrian was too strong, too hardened by his life's pains and the sorrow, the only heirloom of his parents he was allowed to cherish, made him stronger in ways nobody could ever understand. Slowly, he fell to his knees. His fragile body was just that, fragile, a weak vessel for a strong person, a misunderstood person. It was torture on a daily basis, something like this, a beating that was sure to come, was common, tolerable. He wouldn't shed a tear for them. The physical pain, after all, only made the emotional agony lessen. "Don't label me as a friend. I have none. You, you are the worst of all hippocrates. Claiming to be fighting in the name of justice and protecting your people. You don't even understand me. You don't understand that pain that you have caused me. I have walked more sorrow than any other has in hundreds of years of life in my meager seventeen. These eyes have felt the sting of tears, more than you will ever know, and not of them were in joy. Joy, it is a joke, a false testimony in my heart. My heart, it is too far gone, frozen from a life abandoned and lost, and you are to blame for this. Wicked men of the knighthood, liars in the golden skins, deceivers behind pretty faces. I laugh at you for you cannot understand that it will be me that rises above you someday, and in your weakest moments you will call out to me for protection, for mercy, but I cannot offer it to you, because you must be held accountable for the agony that has taken hold of my heart, and it will be yours. I share with you all, and all I have to share, is pain. Strike me again if you wish, it only makes me stronger inside." Darrian's eyes opened wide as a man, seeming to fly down from the heavens themselves, struck down one of the knights that was already drawing a sword, about to kill Darrian where he knelt. Darrian wasn't afraid to die, it would be a release of all the misery his life threw at him, an escape of the pain and sorrow, but to live meant he could still tell his story. A small way, perhaps, to make everyone understand his pain. His eyes turned to a bright yellow, a warning, a shocking color. His color changing eyes was another reason he was despised. Despite being beautiful, they made him different. Different in just another way, which made him more of an outcast, a target for slander, insult, and abuse of all sources. He would not disturb his rescuer, not yet, but when this was over, he would speak with him.

[tandrar]

((excuse me can i join this thread i just joined the site today and i need to rp somewhere))