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Vampires, Lycans & Ghosts
-- oh my!

* An original, adult, occult-horror role play for Writers and Roleplayers who love to write.

SOULS ON FIRE officially opened its virtual doors to the public on 24 September 2010. We are an actively growing community of very dedicated and talented writers and storytellers, with daily posts, and a ton of potential to grow new stories into epic proportions!

With organized Crime at an all-time high -- petty thievery, drug sales, prostitution, and even human-trafficking in forced slavery -- New York City has also become a hotbed of paranormal activity where ghost sightings, haunted buildings, and even rumors of Lycans and Vampires abound.

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 The Vault


Pages: (2) 1 [2]  ( Go to first unread post ) . REPLY . NEW TOPIC . POLL .

 A Dame who Knows the Ropes...
Gabrielle Segrave
Posted: Apr 12 2012, 01:08 PM


Lady of the Vault
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Group: Archived
Posts: 37
Member No.: 167
Joined: 19-March 12



Gabrielle Segrave wanted to crack open Atlin's mind. She wanted to wriggle into it, and scour its depths and corners and forgotten places, wanted to entangle her long barbed threads deep in his psyche until they submerged below his consciousness and fused with him.
She knew there was a way in - there always was - even in a nine hundred year old vampire. She was sure she had already found the chink that would give her the access. It was only a matter of how to slip through. And from the looks of it, Gabrielle would have to batter against some solid defenses first.

The heavy thrumming ceased to vibrate the vampire's heart, weight lifting gently from the dagger that projected a quarter way out of his cool chest. The humming grew quieter, crackling intensity lessening. Cooly, evenly, she agreed,
"Let's."

There was no doubt Gabrielle was torturing Atlin without hesitation. The woman had no qualms with the minutiae involved in breaking a sentient creature - much less the concept. But she was not particularly excited about the whole thing. Gabrielle was not, for example, cackling with glee, a craven glitter of anticipation in her eyes. Nor did she give any indication she was looking forward to the process. She was, if anything, calm.

The question, however, wasn't whether she enjoyed sticking knives into Atlin, but whether she was doing it by her own volition. The NYPS was in her debt, yes, but the cords that bound NYPS and Vault were many and incomprehensibly tangled. This task was imperative and the options for not doing it grim. In other words, Gabrielle may not be tormenting the vampire by her own willingess/eagerness to hurt someone. The impetus for doing so, however, was yet a mystery and would remain such as far as Gabrielle was concerned; her multifarious and convoluted relationship with the fanatic society was not Atlin's affair. If he believed she was no more than a sadistic sociopath, so be it.

Everything was better off that way.

The Madame took a moment to visit the table at the back of the cell. The picana was reconnected to an independant generator that could produce the unusually high voltage without shorting out the building. Even tucked into a far corner, the machine rumbled loudly. The gauge on the rheostat slid further to the right, higher and higher.

A pause then.

This time the knife came in fast and forceful, burying itself suddenly and deeply into Atlin's side, right through the old Civil War scar. The impact made the nerves in the woman's hand ring, her feet catching balance at the abrupt solidness of the collision. This second blade too stuck out just enough to lay prongs at the intersection of metal and flesh, the point shoved far into the vampire's muscle and organ. The picana pressed in sharply.
"And how many graves have you filled? How many men have you slaughtered on the battlefield. Come on, Atlin. Give me a number." she said low and urgently, pressing him with her voice. It was warm and rich with a wicked pleasure, "How many?"


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Atlin Sin Farrish-Erren
Posted: Apr 12 2012, 10:33 PM


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Group: Archived
Posts: 59
Member No.: 146
Joined: 11-February 12



ď Tha-a-a-atís more like it!Ē He shouted with glee as his voice shook from the electricity passing through him. He hadnít been able to feel any more than a sharp pressure when the second knife entered his body, but the energy rushing into him, oh he felt that. Every muscle in his body tensed to the point of popping as he spoke, using what little motor function he had left in his jaw to mouth off once more. He couldnít call it pain yet, at least not a pain he could acknowledge, but he knew better than to assume he could take much more of that voltage and live. At that point he had two options floating around his head, he could take the pain and hold out which would lead to his inevitable demise, or he could answer the question and see what happens next. He highly doubted answering her one inconsequential question would end his imprisonment.

ď Five-Hundred Thousand Three-Hundred and Thirty-Seven.Ē

His answer was swift, and without hesitation as the electricity continued to run into him at a higher voltage than he imagined she could reach. Atlin didnít expect her to have a generator in the room, he didnít expect shock torture in all honesty, but he certainly didnít expect a generator. There would be more, much much more to his time in the cell. More weapons, no, tools of pain and the application their of. He would, as he had been, continue looking forward to when he could remember what pain, what real pain, was.

ďSo whatís next? Bobbing for Apples? Pin the Tail On the Donkey? Oh oh! I know! How about a good olí game of GET THE FUCK ON WITH IT?! I told you once I donít have all night. So why donít you go on ahead and bring out the big guns, or just ask me your petty little questions peacefully so I can answer them and get out of these damned chains?Ē

It was a rough tactic, but one he hoped would work. He couldnít imagine that if she hadnít gotten tired of his talking enough to gag him yet, then she didnít anger easily, but if he could break her composure enough for her to rush it and make a mistake than he might have a chance to get out. He had little hope of such a childish idea working, but anything would be good.

ď Whatís it gonna be? Still wanna decline my offer to answer all your questions in a peaceful manner in exchange for leaving? As of now I still have no reason to kill you, youíre obviously working for the bastards that caught me, so why not give them all the info they want and let me be on my merry way? Or is there something else, maybe the stakes are higher than just you them and whatever information I unknowingly have. You could always get to the questions that matter and stop pussy footing around, as youíve seen Iím more than capable of talking. Given that I donít have to breath but to fill my lungs with air I could talk for hours, and Iím sure you have hours worth of questions.Ē
Gabrielle Segrave
Posted: Apr 14 2012, 01:02 AM


Lady of the Vault
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Group: Archived
Posts: 37
Member No.: 167
Joined: 19-March 12



Gabrielle huffed, and though Atlin could not see it, released a wry, patient smile, her weapon falling away. The prongs crackled a leisurely, even rhythm as they tapped the smooth cement flooring, ice-blue sparks arcing and sizzling.
"We have already covered the matter, darling," she replied cooly, unruffled in the face of Atlin's demands,"I've already told you that I have no boss, and that you won't be leaving any time soon. I also told you to drop it," the tapping stopped abruptly, the buzzing rod in turn sliding its lazy way up between the vampire's legs - not quite close enough to touch either limb, but able to force hairs straight out, if that were possible with the undead, "No need to circle the subject again; my answers won't change," finally, nearly at the crux of the vampire's dead body, the picana leaned its shock high into Atlin's right inner thigh, "and I'll take this moment to remind you - you want something from me, you heed my condition."

Atlin was a damn convincing negotiator, and he pushed her the same as she had pushed him but a moment ago. This was in fact good; though some less experienced dominators would likely have tried to punish Atlin for his insults, Gabrielle let the words drop harmless before her. If Atlin had been a client, he'd be secretly seeking punishment via exciting her ire, and she would have satisfied him. Here, however, he was testing her just as she was testing him - pressing at her to see how she'd react, searching for her weak points. Ms. Segrave welcomed his trials, met them with a cool, gray eveness that - she intended - would let nothing slip through. He snapped at her, and she replied serenely,
"Patience, Atlin. Focus."

The woman gripped the handle of the knife in his heart and rocked it.
"You've been counting. You've kept track of every...last...death on your hands," his number was steep, and there was no way to tell if he were lying. Gabrielle wouldn't think on that sheer amount of lives - not now; to do so would let fear in and she could not be afraid. She smiled darkly, and that smile flavoured her voice, "now why would a devil remember how many men he's murdered, hm? Why do you know exactly the figure you've made."

The third blade sunk in between the vampire's ribs, near his heart, its length also marking a scar. Electricity shot through it.
"Your guilt rides you, doesn't it, Atlin. That's why you keep count."


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Atlin Sin Farrish-Erren
Posted: Apr 14 2012, 09:21 AM


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Group: Archived
Posts: 59
Member No.: 146
Joined: 11-February 12



Atlin could do little more than sigh before releasing a small laugh as she yet again declined his offer. It was a bothersome thing for him to know that she would prefer her inevitable death at the end of their game to surviving by simply letting him walk out. Even more so when he had already agreed to answer whatever questions she seemed to be withholding, but it couldnít be helped. Atlin would continue to believe he was correct in his assumption that the woman who captured him was working for the same people that had Segrave torturing him now.

ďAh yes, your condition, I had forgotten. Itís been nearly five centuries since Iíve had to lick a single womanís boot enough to call her by some honorable moniker. But I suppose there remains no point in doing so if my offer will continue to be shot down. Itís a shame really; I was beginning to enjoy the idea of just sitting down and answering your little questions. ď

His right leg jumped a bit when the prongs made contact, which in turn let out another laugh as he was reminded of a Doctorís reflex test, he guessed that jump meant his were ok. He couldnít imagine berating her anymore would work; she hadnít flinched at a Vampire yelling at her. While keeping in mind that Vampire was chained to the ceiling, stripped naked, and blindfolded with several knives sticking out of him. On second thought maybe he wasnít in the right position to be trying to break her, or maybe he was just going about it all wrong.

His body yet again grew tense all over as a third blade was pushed threw another scar. He wondered then if she had enough blades to pierce all his scars, or if she was just going for the ones she had asked about specifically. In any case it didnít matter, there was no gut wrenching pain to be felt as the blades entered him, and the electricity did little more than send him into a paralytic state for a short time. He had to wonder though, just how much longer his cold dead body could resist it all, and what would happen when his threshold for pain had been passed.

A deep and cold, but joyous laugh came bellowing out of Atlinís mouth as she asked about his guilt. He had not thought she would press on his sense of morality, given that she too had taken to calling him a Demon. ď Whatís that you say? Regret? HA, regrets belong to good men and their daily mistakes. Itís not a luxury God would allow me to have. Iím sorry for every life Iíve taken, of that you can be sure, but I donít regret any of them. They, like me, fought for a goal, or an ideal that they believed was worth staking their lives on. Even those boys I mentioned, younger than twenty but well into being called a man by their fathers, they fought for their homeland, or for their King. No MíLady, I have only one regret, in my nine centuries of blood-scattered battlefields, I have only one regret. Mark my shaky electrified words though; Iíll make graves for every single one of them one day. Until then, I canít quite afford to die, not here, not to you and your toys.Ē


Gabrielle Segrave
Posted: Apr 16 2012, 12:29 AM


Lady of the Vault
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Group: Archived
Posts: 37
Member No.: 167
Joined: 19-March 12



Gabrielle gave a quiet laugh, letting slip a slight recriminating smile at her own failed assault. There were, after all, those walls between her and Atlin's mind and she was only just learning their scope and breadth. A battlefield lay between them, their words black legions rushing across the plain. Gabrielle drew back her forces and regrouped, sending them forth in a new assault upon Atlin's fortifications.

"Well then, it's a good thing I don't plan to kill you," the following silence possessed a thick tangibility, a sort of latent hold that changed her voice until it seemed she was not speaking to him, "it'd be a waste if I did."

There were, in Gabrielle's mind, only two virtues that anyone needed in order to succeed. After that, everything else was merely assistance. No matter what Atlin threw at her, she kept these virtues in mind - had been doing so this whole time. They were her rock and stability, the force that enabled her to keep her cool and trudge forward, even before the face of her death. And when she hit a wall, it was her virtues that allowed her to simply try again, to send her soldier words out into the fray once more. Patience. And perseverence. Atlin would not be let alone until Gabrielle succeeded in what she'd set out to do.

Once more into the war.

She crossed her arms, picana pointed downwards and away from her body.
"I remember you mentioning that argument earlier: that because they stood against a monster they died bravely. I suppose now isn't the time to explore the niceties of enslavement and conscription." Her eyes narrowed, "I still think all those killings haunt you. You said so yourself. You said you can see their faces when you close your eyes," Gabrielle rested her hand upon the hilt of the dagger in his heart, her voice pressing soft and intensely, "you must feel something, if it isn't remorse. Is it just simply sadness, Atlin? Loss, perhaps, or a horror of what you are."

Would he lie? The Madame had memorized his language when he spoke the truth. And, she felt sure somehow, he hadn't lied to her yet. At least, not when it came to answering her questions; she wasn't quite ready to believe he'd spare her life if she let him down just then.

There had been eight places the dominatrix had wished to test the electroshock torture. She had already tried six of them, the next more sensitive than the last: neck; throat; ear; nipple; bottom foot; inner thigh. And even if she had added the blades to his scars - only to find them marginally more effective - she was the type of person who finished her projects. The seventh place was hidden behind the grate of the mask - his lips - and she would have to revisit it when the opportunity arose. The last, however, was worth a try, if only to discover whether a living man's most tender regions remained unchanged after such a long death. Following that, she would have to rummage through her "toys" once more, to see what other goodies she could find.

The rod reached out, slipping its unhurried crackling way up between the vampire's legs once again, all the while she spoke. However he stood, the prongs shocked whatever obstructed their progress until, finally, they reached the apex of Atlin's body. Gabrielle pushed the rod deep between his thighs and came up under his sac, letting his flesh rest upon the prongs for a few solid minutes. With a slight angle and another nudge, the rod's tip moved on and up into the dark recesses beyond.

Gabrielle studied his face intently, waiting.


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Atlin Sin Farrish-Erren
Posted: Apr 16 2012, 09:08 PM


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Group: Archived
Posts: 59
Member No.: 146
Joined: 11-February 12



ď Sadness, Haunting, Horror? Iíve not been allowed to know any of these since I was Human, and that was so many life times ago Iím beginning to wonder if I was ever Human at all. No Iím afraid none of these things are why the faces of the men Iíve slain remain before my eyes when I shut them. Itís so that Iíll never forget. I force myself to cycle them all, remember all of their faces so that I can one by one make a grave for each of them one day. One day, a long time from now hopefully, after Iíve made their graves, maybe Iíll bring flowers to yours as well.Ē

His words were soft, and well spoken as he remembered what drove him to keep going. The one goal he had left, and the only thing that really mattered before he could allow himself to die. They were nameless, unimportant plebs as far as history was concerned, just the armies of famous rulers and conquerors. To Atlin, a man that had not only seen history being written, but forged its hand at certain events, this was sickening.

He felt compelled to remember them in some way, if all he could do was make a field of wooden crosses for them all, than that was enough. People would remember that field, and wonder whom the crosses were for. In that idea, Atlin found peace, and he hoped the souls of the men he killed would as well.

It took a moment for it to register that the electricity was having a very different affect on him this time. The mild tingling and whisping glance of pain were replaced by a feeling he hadnít had since he was in his late twenties. The Vampire had almost forgotten he even had anything dangling between his legs since every part of him was dead. He could do little more than hold back a giggle at the thought of having an erection, but the giggle wouldnít be contained and grew into a boastful laughter.

ďIT LIIIVES!! IT LIIIIIIIVES!!Ē He spoke with a laugh that resembled an innocent childís. He was truly amused at what the right voltage could do to his cold, dead flesh and muscle. It was almost to much, and with everything that was happening down below he thought that if his bladder still worked he may very well have urinated all over his captor from laughing so hard.

Had he been able to feel his sides, he was sure they would hurt as well. He was getting a very childish enjoyment out of his situation, which he was sure wasnít what Gabrielle had in mind when she started, but really it was to funny for words on his end.
Gabrielle Segrave
Posted: Apr 23 2012, 12:47 AM


Lady of the Vault
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Group: Archived
Posts: 37
Member No.: 167
Joined: 19-March 12



"Honour!" the woman exclaimed in amazement. And then she laughed, the picana dropping to the floor to spark about the vampire's ankles, her amusement mingling with his, "Who would've thought?" she asked wryly, and shook her head, laughter finally dying away. And then Gabrielle realized she should have known it all along. Yet her eyes narrowed, lips twisting slightly upwards. Her words were shrewd,
"What's a demon doing with honour, anyway? Seems oxymoronic to me."

As for his outburst, hell, she hadn't expected that reaction to her little experiment. It would be very easy to find him aggravating, and Gabrielle could not condemn anyone who fell prey to irritation by his attitude. But, experiments are not meant to deliver on expectations, and sometimes one has no choice over the subject; there's no sense in getting angry over that. Besides, it was a rather interesting reaction indeed, and perhaps one she could somehow exploit in the future. Not commenting on his outburst, though, was impossible.
"Enjoying it, are we?" the woman scoffed, "you're such a child, Atlin."
An honourable, childish vampire. Perhaps the most bizarre combination Gabrielle had ever encountered. Her voice turned a honeycomb pepper-spice, playfulness interweaving warmly,
"If you're really good, darling, I wouldn't mind...stimulating you at the end of the night," she teased, mirth undermining any gravity, "nice little shocks to ease the discomfort, hm?"

Still, she hadn't anticipated the vampire's response to her psychological pushing. The crack she'd imagined in his psyche had been along the lines of horror and guilt - something which she could amplify until it consumed him. Now, it seemed, there was no crack to begin with. It very well appeared that Gabrielle Segrave was being thwarted at every turn. Thus she reminded herself: patience, and perseverence. Somewhere, there was a way into Atlin's mind. Not where she thought it would be, but she'd find it yet. And each answer he gave was the key to finding the proper door. For Gabrielle, it was only a matter of time.

Rolling her eyes and giving in to a rueful grin, Gabrielle left the vampire to his laughter. She switched off the generator and laid the picana across its top, the insulated handle quickly accessible for when she needed it again. The neat rows of tools were broken as Gabrielle pulled from them several choices, laughing quietly in irony as she did so. The Madame had believed the novelty of modern torture methods would give her an edge over the old vampire, but - well, the end results spoke for themselves. Electricity was out. It was back to the tried and true of medieval dungeons. Of course, there was always the possibility that Atlin had already sampled the finest torture chambers the era had to offer - it was a risk she would have to take.

There was a process to this new torture method, and it would take several steps before she had Atlin where she wanted him - if indeed this worked at all. First step would be a broad-based pain, something to get his nerves to finally sing. Gabrielle intended to achieve this with a Spanish Tickler. At once reminiscent and cruelly contrary to its name, the thing was a thick handle with four iron spikes similar to an oversized claw or a fork with its tines curved in. Its large design enabled the prongs to tear flesh from bone without catching on sinew.

Even as the vampire laughed, Gabrielle snapped the ends of the tines into his upper back with the for of her shoulder. In the spikes sunk, hooking deep into dead meat. The Madame gripped the heavy iron handle with both her palms, and using the weight of her body, tore down. The claw's keen ends split skin and muscle as it crawled its way along the vampire's broad back, finally dislodging in the curve of the small of Atlin's frame, just above his hips.


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