The world as you know it is not real. There are secret things that lurk in the shadows. All the bedtime horrors you imagined as a child... They exist. The old wives tales you heard growing up... Vampires, Werewolves, Wraiths, Mummies, Necromancers and Fairies, All real. Living secret lives, veiled from the perceptions of the mundane. Playing their power-games, using less powerful beings as pawns in some great war, hidden from sight. Only the most aware can see, or the most innocent. The real world remains hidden from the minds of the mundane, for their feeble psyche would be shattered if the truth were revealed to them. The truth about the REAL world... The World of Darkness...

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Wednesday, November 06, 2002 - 02:15 pm:

"So, where we going?" Tim asked his buddy as they walked briskly along the sidewalk. At about 6 feet tall and 185 pounds, Tim was considered a pretty ripped guy, and he had very little problem attracting the ladies. He smiled and lightly jabbed his friend in the arm, accenting his question as the duo passed several locked-down store fronts.

"You are SO gonna love this place, dude," Ray responded to his blonde-haired friend, sidestepping the the jab and delivering one of his own. "The chicks in this club are SO hot, and there're SO many of em, dude, you'll think you died and went to score-heaven," the smaller, slightly heavier Ray said. Although a bit thicker in the middle than his lanky friend, Ray was by no means chubby, and his black spiky hair and several facial piercings marked him as a social outsider, complete with black painted fingernails and a Marilyn Manson T-shirt.

"All RIGHT," Tim responded as they rounded the corner into what appeared to be a dead-end alley, decorated again and again with graffiti until the walls seemed nothing more than a myriad of textures and indefinable colors. At the end of the alley was a painted over steel door. Tim began to feel a little uncomfortable. "Ummm, dude, is this the place?" he asked nervously, glancing around.

"Chill out man, relax. Trust me on this one ok?" Ray answered, walking confidently up to the steel door and kicking it three times. After a moment, a small metal slot opened at eye level, and Ray smiled, saying something in some weird foreign language. The eyes on the other side of the slot seemed to regard the pair, then the slot slammed shut.

"What the hell did you just say, dude?" Tim whispered, leaning close to Ray.

"The bouncer is Chechnyan, and only understands his own language," Ray explained. "I really don't know what I just said, but last time I was here they told me it was the password." Almost in response to this, metal clangs and clicks could be heard, and the heavy steel door ground open slowly, revealing a brightly lit foyer about 20 feet by 20 feet with plain walls and a rubber mat for a floor. The bouncer then closed the door behind the two friends and frisked them. Tim could just now make out the rhythmic thumping of techno bass, and he felt more at ease.

Finishing with his frisking, the bouncer then moved to the inner door and knocked three times, then two times, and moved back to his position at the front door. Soon the inner door opened to reveal a mass of writhing flesh, moving in rhythm to the pounding bass music, all sweat and skin weaving a hypnotic pattern under the colored lights and randomly flashing lasers. The music was deafening, and Tim could no longer hear Ray, who was shouting at him to follow.

Tim made his way down into the dancing mass, now on the prowl for some female action. And the choices he was presented with were nothing less than goddesses in his mind. Within several seconds of entering the dance floor, four girls had already either eyed him or full-out groped him before melting back into the crowd. Tim's smile was almost stupid as a fifth female--the most attractive yet--with red hair, green eyes, and a body to shoot your left foot off for simply walked up to him, squeezed his manhood, and then began grinding against him to the beat of the music, a hungry smile on her face...

By Starlit simulacron (Ranger) on Wednesday, December 11, 2002 - 10:08 am:

The woman sat down and flipped the master switch for her impressive computer layout. She watched her disheveled reflection disappear from the monitor, as a lighted screen replaced it. She adjusted on her stool and rested long thin fingers on the keyboard where they twitched like greyhounds at the gate. The wait was only seconds long until the connection was made, and the screen she wanted popped up.

There were three new requests for information in her in box. Two were from correspondents she had never heard of – one twit was using the screen name ‘were_of_the_moon’. Were-creatures just had no sense of the subtle. Another was from one of her regulars, a woman calling herself Suki. She opened Suki’s request first. It was a request for a run down on “…an individual who has of late been confined to a liquid diet…” by the name of Holcroft. She smiled, vampires on the other hand could be all kinds of subtle. She wondered again how Suki had found her very special information service, she had very few who were restricted to a liquid diet on her clients list. Most were her own ilk – lately a lot of requests popping up about certain of the sidhe – probably court intrigue again. She made a face, she didn’t much care for either court and their snobbish machinations, hence her preference for a secluded retreat where she could indulge her passion – information gathering, the winkling out of secrets, and knowing something someone else did not know but would pay to learn.

She hit the reply button and typed rapidly, “Suki, Will send you a preliminary report by close of business on Friday. Standard fees apply. Malone.”

By X (Eric) on Tuesday, August 19, 2003 - 07:56 pm:

The cab stopped at the mouth of the ally, John paid the cabby and got out. This never was a nice part of town, but it was worse than he remembered. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment as the cab pulled away. John was tall and well built with short dark hair. He was good looking in a hard sort of way and was still wearing his long coat even though the night was warm. As he stood there watching the cab turn the corner he thought that no matter how much things had changed, it was still impossible to get a cab around here after dark.
As John made his way down the ally he remembered the last time he had been to this place. It had been a speakeasy then and he had called it Jack's Place after himself. That was a long, long time ago and he didn't know what it was called now or if it even had a name. Whatever the place was called, John was not sure how the new owner would feel about seeing him again, she hadn't been all that pleased with him then. But that was a long time ago and John needed a favor. John knocked on the steel door with a brick he picked up off the ground. Soon a slot opened and a pair of eyes looked out at him. John said nothing and pretended not to notice after a moment a harsh voice said. "What do you want?"

"I'd like to see Cassandra, please," said John.
"Never heard of her," said the voice.
"Can I come in and have a look, maybe she's here and you don't know it," said John.

"Nope," said the voice.
"Nope you don't know or nope I can't come in?" asked John.
"Both," said the voice flatly.
John closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath and said, "All right, by now you know that I am not one of you, and if you're any good at your job, that I am not just some meat puppet off the street, and you probably guess that I know what's going on in there. So I promise if you keep the peace so will I."

"No deal," was the reply just as flatly.
"Look you're not being very smart. I'm not going away. If you and your friends have to come out here and take care of me its going to be loud, messy and public. Wouldn't it be better for you to let me come in and we can do it in there, in private," said John with conviction.

"If you think we're going to jump you, why do you want in so bad?" asked the voice less certainly.
"Maybe I'm not afraid of you jumping me," said John threaten. "Besides, I'd hate to have to brake down the door."
"Why's that?" asked the voice in the same tone.
"Because doors don't feel pain and they don't make that satisfying squishy sound when something inside them bursts," said John in a cold voice.

"Give me a minute?" said the voice.
"You have three by my watch, then fireworks start," replied John and the slot slid closed. As John waited he looked up at the small patch of sky visible over the ally and the roof of the neighboring building, the roof were he had fought with Chang. The fight that forced him to leave town so fast. Too noisy, too public. That wouldn't matter this time. Not to him any way, this time he'd light this town up if had to...

Just then he saw a shadow of darkness pass over the ally and come to rest on the roof just were he was looking. It was a woman dressed all in black, she landed with cat like grace. She had another woman over her shoulder fireman carry, a naked woman with long red hair. The woman in black glanced behind her to the building she had come from and then was gone.

No one ever looks up thought John staring at the now empty roof, then heard the door opening. He turned and there were three goons standing in the doorway. He wasn't sure if they were going to invite him in, try to kill him or both, "Does Cassandra still have her long red hair?" asked John.
"What?" asked Goon Number One confused.
"Her hair... She didn't bleach it or dye it or cut it off or something did she?" asked John urgently.
"No," came the reply. All three goons now looked very confused.
"Too late then," said John to himself, confusing the goons some more.
Having taken about all he could take, Goon Number One said angrily, "What’s this all about?"

John replied absently, "You'll find out soon."

Then he threw a card in the goons general direction. And as he turned back up the ally to the street he said, "I'm at the Hilton downtown if anyone wants me."

Goon Number One picked up the card and read it as John made his way to the street. It read: John Alexander Crusader at large.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Tuesday, June 01, 2004 - 02:45 pm:

Camille bound across the rooftops with the grace of a great hunting cat and as silent as the night itself. After about 4 blocks, she descended a fire escape and melted down a narrow alley toward the back wall of a parking garage. Looking up, she concentrated for a moment, gathering her strength and allowing for the additional weight she carried as she slowly sank into a springing crouch. Cassandra smiled and asked, "Lose your touch, Camille? Getting old are we?"

At that moment, Camille allowed her legs to uncoil, and she sprang upwards 6 stories to the roof level of the parking garage, landing lightly and stalking silently to a black Audi TT parked by itself near the exit ramp. Camille curled the corner of her mouth into an almost-snarling smile and replied "I haven't lost a step, but you're right. I AM getting old."

As Camille carefully put Cassandra into the TT, she scanned her surroundings. She thought she saw the most fleeting of motions out of the corner of her eye. She narrowed her eyes and peered into the darkness. Nothing. Camille got in the car and started the engine, slowly driving away. If she was to be followed, she would at least take her tail someplace unimportant... Camille drove to the downtown Hilton, driving just evasively enough to not quite lose any followers, but believably enough to make it seem like she was trying to lose them.

Camille nodded to the back seat and a black gym bag. "There are clothes in there for you. Can't have you walking into the Hilton naked, can we?" Cassandra reached back and retrieved the bag, checking its contents with a disgusted expression.

"I may as WELL be naked. Generic blue jeans and a black turtleneck from WalMart? And $10 velcro sneakers? You MUST be joking, Camille," Cassandra blanched.

"Fine," Camille responded dryly as she pulled into the Hilton's garage. "Go in naked. I don't care." Camille reached under the driver's seat and pulled on a pair of leather pants and a stylish leather blazer, both easily fitting over the nearly skin-tight body glove she was wearing. She pulled her hair back out of its ponytail and shook it out, then got out of the TT and holstered her barretta in the concealed shoulder harness now under her blazer. "You coming, Cassandra?" Cassandra was pulling on the non-designer clothing provided for her with an almost painful look. It was unthinkable for her to appear anywhere publicly in less than $1000 worth of clothing, usually that was just the shoes...

By Sol Hawk (Sol) on Friday, September 14, 2007 - 01:43 pm:

It was actually quite common for those of the Otherrealms to visit the Hilton. In fact, that was why Thomas had taken the job here. A hotel such as this was a surprisingly active hub, and although the mundane humans had no inkling of this, he did, for Thomas the Rhymer was as old as Time.

Of the Otherrealms, his home Plane was akin to a Faerie Kingdom under his unquestioned dominion. On occassion a mundane human would drift to his Realm in sleep or in contemplation, and on occassion Thomas would make a gracious invitation to someone who was truly worthy, but by far the denziens of his Realm had to be taken there by force. Thomas was a god there, in the Realm of Faerie, and once a being had taken that one-way trip, escape against the will of Thomas was impossible.

Thomas stroked his bearded chin and focused his jet-black eyes upon the two women who had come in. One was wearing jeans and a turtleneck. The other was dressed in leather. The little man licked his lips. Normally Thomas took great pleasure in collecting a faun or a nymph or a werewolf from this world - for any of the fantastic creatures he considered to be his own and therefore it was only right that they should become subjects in his Realm. But these two, there was something different about them, and Thomas was enthralled - what could it be? He sensed that somehow he would have more of what he was looking for - much more - were he to keep something of a closer eye on these two.