The Asylum RP (IN PROGRESS, APPLICANTS TO CONTACT ME IN PMS)
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Well enough introspect time to eat I guess Ziva thought as she grabbed a tray and moved through the line and waited for the orderly to put food on it. "whats wrong Ziva your normally more talkative?" the final orderly in the line Gary was his name asked as he stared at her inquisitively....."Im just apprehensive I guess...the bastard who set that bomb is still at large, I need to get out of here and find him." Ziva explained as rage flashed in her eyes. "Oh" Gary said knowing full well that said killer had been brutally murdered by Ziva herself though she obviously didn't. "Don't worry Im sure once your cleared to leave if he's still out there they'll want you on the case" Gary said optimistically. "Yes But how much longer will I be here?" Ziva asked aloud to Gary and her self. I hadn't been to long but Ziva had given up as counting the days made her want to kill herself more. "Move your ass *****" A random ornery patient behind her shouted...'bad move' Ziva thought before she flipped the man over and slammed her elbow into his sternum effectively shutting him up and proceded to grab her plate wave goodbye to Gary and go claim a seat.
Xander watched his cell door with wide eyes, entire body tensed, and ready to strike.
Every morning, it was the same. He'd wake in the early hours of the morning, tired and confused, frightened by something he didn't recognise and couldn't see. It was there... and yet it wasn't. A malignant presence that stalked his senses, existing where it could not be perceived, and treading where it was not welcome. A memory that he couldn't recall? A delusion brought about by his decaying mind?
He glanced at the clock.
Any moment now, nurse Watkins would open his door. Any moment now, he'd be free from the confines of his room, free to breath fresh air, free to walk wherever he wanted, free from the unseen enemy all around him. Freedom. Nothing else mattered.
Footsteps, just outside the door. His fists clenched. He heard a key in the lock, and then nurse Watkins was in, smiling gently.
"Morning!" she said cheerfully.
Xander exhaled loudly, his entire body relaxing, safe at last in the presence of a friendly soul.
"You have a good night then?"
Every morning, the same question. His response never differed; a quick shake of the head, and then he slowly slid out from under his sheets, bloodshot eyes darting around the room and examining every corner.
"Manage to get any sleep?" asked Watkins, eyes filled with concern. "Are the pills Dr. Hamish gave you working?"
He shook his head again, eyes blank and unfocused.
"Poor Xander..." she sighed, biting her lip. "Come and get some breakfast at least. You're far too thin as it is."
He followed her out the door and down the corridor outside, towards the mess hall.
Upon entering the cafeteria he noticed an unfamiliar face, that of a bearded middle-aged man he'd never seen before, standing beside the northern entrance and flanked by two orderlies. He watched intently as they removed a pair of handcuffs, studying the man's face, his clothes, the manner in which he carried himself. A pressed suit? Expensive reading glasses? A leather-bound book? What kind of man was he? And more importantly, why was he in the asylum, alongside all the psychopaths and crazies that inhabited its hallways?
Xander frowned. Something wasn't right.
Without further ado, he lined up with all the others, grabbing a plastic tray and cutlery. The queue was moving slowly today, but eventually he ended up in front of the chef, and with hot food on his plate he began to search for a seat.
Every morning, it was the same. He'd wake in the early hours of the morning, tired and confused, frightened by something he didn't recognise and couldn't see. It was there... and yet it wasn't. A malignant presence that stalked his senses, existing where it could not be perceived, and treading where it was not welcome. A memory that he couldn't recall? A delusion brought about by his decaying mind?
He glanced at the clock.
Any moment now, nurse Watkins would open his door. Any moment now, he'd be free from the confines of his room, free to breath fresh air, free to walk wherever he wanted, free from the unseen enemy all around him. Freedom. Nothing else mattered.
Footsteps, just outside the door. His fists clenched. He heard a key in the lock, and then nurse Watkins was in, smiling gently.
"Morning!" she said cheerfully.
Xander exhaled loudly, his entire body relaxing, safe at last in the presence of a friendly soul.
"You have a good night then?"
Every morning, the same question. His response never differed; a quick shake of the head, and then he slowly slid out from under his sheets, bloodshot eyes darting around the room and examining every corner.
"Manage to get any sleep?" asked Watkins, eyes filled with concern. "Are the pills Dr. Hamish gave you working?"
He shook his head again, eyes blank and unfocused.
"Poor Xander..." she sighed, biting her lip. "Come and get some breakfast at least. You're far too thin as it is."
He followed her out the door and down the corridor outside, towards the mess hall.
Upon entering the cafeteria he noticed an unfamiliar face, that of a bearded middle-aged man he'd never seen before, standing beside the northern entrance and flanked by two orderlies. He watched intently as they removed a pair of handcuffs, studying the man's face, his clothes, the manner in which he carried himself. A pressed suit? Expensive reading glasses? A leather-bound book? What kind of man was he? And more importantly, why was he in the asylum, alongside all the psychopaths and crazies that inhabited its hallways?
Xander frowned. Something wasn't right.
Without further ado, he lined up with all the others, grabbing a plastic tray and cutlery. The queue was moving slowly today, but eventually he ended up in front of the chef, and with hot food on his plate he began to search for a seat.
Slowly the albino got out of bed, still tired from a lack of sleep. The whispers fade as he becomes more awake.
"Yo Mike, better get your arse to the canteen," called the orderly "you need some meat on those bones of yours."
Mike put on his poncho as he responded "Nrrrg." Mike never spoke directly to the male orderlies, unless one of the female staff was present. He knocked twice on the cell door.
"Alright Mike, Ive got the door big guy. Hold on. Hey Nick."
A second orderly passed by addressing the first. "Hey Andrew."
Andrew, often regarded as Mike's handler, was the only male orderly Mike didn't seem to mind. Andrew does his best to keep Mike under control and being a very spiritual man, believed him when he said he saw Madam Geria's ghost.
After the second orderly left, Andrew grabbed his keys and unlocked Mike's cell "You're good to go Mike." Andrew opened the cell door.
Mike had to bend over to fit through the door; his height alone kept the other orderlies on edge, his choice of cloths didn't help either but Andrew didn't care about that. "Let's get you some food."
"Yo Mike, better get your arse to the canteen," called the orderly "you need some meat on those bones of yours."
Mike put on his poncho as he responded "Nrrrg." Mike never spoke directly to the male orderlies, unless one of the female staff was present. He knocked twice on the cell door.
"Alright Mike, Ive got the door big guy. Hold on. Hey Nick."
A second orderly passed by addressing the first. "Hey Andrew."
Andrew, often regarded as Mike's handler, was the only male orderly Mike didn't seem to mind. Andrew does his best to keep Mike under control and being a very spiritual man, believed him when he said he saw Madam Geria's ghost.
After the second orderly left, Andrew grabbed his keys and unlocked Mike's cell "You're good to go Mike." Andrew opened the cell door.
Mike had to bend over to fit through the door; his height alone kept the other orderlies on edge, his choice of cloths didn't help either but Andrew didn't care about that. "Let's get you some food."
Am I doing alright? or should I speed things up?
His book and spectacles in hand, Edward strode over to one of the nearby tables, many of which where occupied by a myriad of different people, both in demeanour and clothing, he himself chose one with as few people as possible, as close to his current position and the food as possible. Here he laid down his book and pocketed his specs, saying a brief "Pardon the intrusion" before walking over to get himself something to eat, as his body was indeed indicating that such a time had arrived.
Receiving the food from the personnel, he would likely have been disappointed at their apparent lack of fine cuisine, but not currently being straddled with such nonsense he accepted it with a short bow before returning. This caused a bit of whispering among the few orderlies who had heard about him from the other asylum, seeing as he seemed way too well behaved to have caused a stir, or to have been locked up in isolation. Still, he was here for a reason, and the orderlies were not foolish enough to let their guard down just because someone seemed fine at first glance.
Returning to the table, he again uttered a little "Pardon me" before sitting down in silence to eat his food, more or less ignoring the other patients at the table.
Receiving the food from the personnel, he would likely have been disappointed at their apparent lack of fine cuisine, but not currently being straddled with such nonsense he accepted it with a short bow before returning. This caused a bit of whispering among the few orderlies who had heard about him from the other asylum, seeing as he seemed way too well behaved to have caused a stir, or to have been locked up in isolation. Still, he was here for a reason, and the orderlies were not foolish enough to let their guard down just because someone seemed fine at first glance.
Returning to the table, he again uttered a little "Pardon me" before sitting down in silence to eat his food, more or less ignoring the other patients at the table.
Marcus sat in his cell,the cell of a mad a man,the cell that does not belong to a god of decay and destruction.Staring at the walls of bullet proof glass,he focused,he focused all his hate and decay into it,and it began to melt away,sizzling and bubbling,without direct contact,it was going to take a while,but that did not matter,anything to be out of this damn cell for the first time in 15 years.That is what he yearned for,and all the other crazies were waking up,it was at this point he envied his father,for this would give power to him,but he was weak at the moment,weak as a human.Death was needed,death that he would himself would personally deliver,but for now,all he needed was to break out of this Damn cell.
"This place is ripe with killers and maniacs,and people who have killed inadvertently,it shouldn't be too hard to push them to do something..."
The G;ass stopped sizzling,it melted away and ran along the floor.A human shape hole was what the glass had left behind,Marcus got up and leaned underneath,before walking about,away from his cell and getting ready to explore his home,in it's most recent incarnation.This was going fun...
"This place is ripe with killers and maniacs,and people who have killed inadvertently,it shouldn't be too hard to push them to do something..."
The G;ass stopped sizzling,it melted away and ran along the floor.A human shape hole was what the glass had left behind,Marcus got up and leaned underneath,before walking about,away from his cell and getting ready to explore his home,in it's most recent incarnation.This was going fun...
I think I'll back out now before I start. I've kinda lost interest, this just seems like people walking around an Asylum. I have no idea what the story is, or what we'll be doing, or anything other than we're in an asylum.
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We need a user group, to avoid Death by Spoilers!
Also, can I make the orderly David a minor character of mine? he could still be GM controlled, but since he's one of the few members of staff who Sharrow will trust, he tends to follow Sharrow around and keep him in order.
Oh, and by the way, the Miss Geraldine that Sharrow mentions doesn't seem to exist, or at least it Sharrow's name for someone else. Regardless, he has a decided romantic interest in the person, and claims to talk to her often, though David never see's him do so.
Also, can I make the orderly David a minor character of mine? he could still be GM controlled, but since he's one of the few members of staff who Sharrow will trust, he tends to follow Sharrow around and keep him in order.
Name
avid Banach
Gender: Male
Physical Description: Tall, and powerfully built, David is tanned and dark haired, though he crops his hair short so a flailing inmate cannot get a hold of it. While on duty, he wears an orderly's uniform.
His smooth movements source form his training both in martial arts and the 'official' methods of restraining patients. His relaxed state speaks both of his confidence around unstable and dangerous individuals, but also serves to keep them calm.
Emotional and Mental disposition: David is calm and open, and feels that helping the residents of the Asylum is a calling for him, with his mix of physical power and empathy. He sincerely believes that the Asylum does the best for people, and over the years has looked things up and asked a lot of questions, to the point where he is something of an amateur psychiatrist himself. Needles to say, this helps him deal with his charges.
Now in charge mainly of Sharrow, David has taken rather a liking to the man, and tries to use his position of trust to help Sharrow's condition, giving him advice or giving him little nudges that help keep him stable.
That's all that the other players are going to be able to know... Feel free to make up a history for him.
avid BanachGender: Male
Physical Description: Tall, and powerfully built, David is tanned and dark haired, though he crops his hair short so a flailing inmate cannot get a hold of it. While on duty, he wears an orderly's uniform.
His smooth movements source form his training both in martial arts and the 'official' methods of restraining patients. His relaxed state speaks both of his confidence around unstable and dangerous individuals, but also serves to keep them calm.
Emotional and Mental disposition: David is calm and open, and feels that helping the residents of the Asylum is a calling for him, with his mix of physical power and empathy. He sincerely believes that the Asylum does the best for people, and over the years has looked things up and asked a lot of questions, to the point where he is something of an amateur psychiatrist himself. Needles to say, this helps him deal with his charges.
Now in charge mainly of Sharrow, David has taken rather a liking to the man, and tries to use his position of trust to help Sharrow's condition, giving him advice or giving him little nudges that help keep him stable.
That's all that the other players are going to be able to know... Feel free to make up a history for him.
Oh, and by the way, the Miss Geraldine that Sharrow mentions doesn't seem to exist, or at least it Sharrow's name for someone else. Regardless, he has a decided romantic interest in the person, and claims to talk to her often, though David never see's him do so.
Heads up! This one's to you.
"Hah!" declared Sharrow, "The clothing rules, like most of the others, are flimsy at best. I mean, look at me! I haven't worn the 'proper clothes' for over four hundred years; my coat does me fine, and I wear these trousers when I want to dress up smart"
Sharrow narrowed his eyes, "I'm wise to your tricks, sir. You'll get nothing out of me"
This man was obviously spying for them, and Sharrow would be damned if he would betray himself to such obvious attempts to get information out of him
This man was obviously spying for them, and Sharrow would be damned if he would betray himself to such obvious attempts to get information out of him
Captain Pirate said: