Post by OROKI VINSDEL on Feb 26, 2013 15:02:04 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; padding: 10px;][bg=121212] OROKI VINSDEL SHOWDOWN IN MOTHER RUSSIA. Russia was cold and dark, all in all not the nicest place to live. Oroki walked along sidewalk, the snow billowing all around him. The Vatican had sent him here to the small town outside of Moscow. He couldn't remember its name, let alone pronounce it. Not that it mattered. The place was a dump. Snow and ice covered every surface. There was a strange scent of raw sewage in the air, combined with the smoky odor of wood burning stoves. His hotel room had bullet holes in it and was so drafty that he couldn't get nay sleep. Not that he slept much anyway. Supposedly there were Togabitos and Hollows here, running amok, terrorizing the populace. The Russians were hardened folks. He wondered if their frowns and grimaces had driven the spiritual beings out of town. Because, he hadn't felt any Reiatsu since arriving. Was it some sort of punishment that he was here? He had no idea. The only thing he was worried about now was getting a drink. And, he hoped the local watering hole had something other than vodka, because if they didn't, he might consider making things in Mother Russia—a bit warmer. Temperance—that was his assigned Virtue, or some shit like that. He couldn't help but smirk to himself everytime he thought of it. The Vatican had to make everything seem important. Consecro was supposed to be a holy order, tasked with the mission of cleansing the world of Hell's children and vanquishing those known as the Seven Sins. But, they the truth was, they were a group of misfits and outcasts. Quincy, Fullbringers, and whoever else they could scrape off the pavement and had enough power to fight against Hollows and Togabitos. So why had he signed up? Travis was the real reason. His mentor, his friend. Well, he was dead now, but he had spoken about Consecro with the utmost reverence. It has been his goal to join. Oroki had no goals of his own, so when he his mentor died, he had taken up his goals instead. It was much better than doing nothing. The bar had a neon sign, with something written in Russian and the picture of two bears wrestling. He nearly face-palmed at the sigh of it. It was a serious cliché, almost too much. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside. The place was empty, as usual. The floors were covered with the broken shells of peanuts, spilled alcohol and pretzel crumbs. He thought he even saw a pile of vomit in the corner. Sitting down at the bar he motioned to the bartender. “Whiskey,” he said in Russian. His accent was apparent. The bartender was a short guy with a thin mustache and glasses. He wore a beanie and a thermal shirt over his greasy apron. He pulled out a shot glass, poured some Jack Daniels into it and slid it over to Oroki. Reaching into his coat pocket, Oroki produced a few bills and laid them down on the counter. He sipped the whiskey and nearly spat it out. It was watered down. “Russia,” he said and shook his head in dismay, swallowing the rest of the burning alcohol. It was then he felt something, a presence. It was Reiatsu, Hollow Reiatsu, to be exact, and the presence was beyond anything he had ever felt before. “Well, I'll be damned,” he said and reached into his pocket, feeling the etched surface of his grandfather's lighter. Were things about to get interesting? STATS: HAN: 25, REI: 25, HAK: 10, SEI: 25, BUK: 10, HOH: 25 WORDS: 582 | TWC: 582 |