You are either not logged in or not registered with our community. Click here to register.
December 16, 2018, 07:09:58 AM

Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
Did you miss your activation email?

Login with username, password and session length

Click here if you are having problems.
Default Wide Screen Beige Lilac Rainbow Black & Blue October Send us your theme!

Wiki Blogs Dicebot

Author Topic: Monster Hunter's Journal  (Read 558 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline BlueJayHighwayTopic starter

Monster Hunter's Journal
« on: June 06, 2017, 08:17:47 PM »
I have no idea how many parts of this I'll write, I'll write it until I'm burn out on it, then maybe come back. Well, enjoy.


"Bloody Mary..." I whisper as I look into the mirror. The candle light flickers in the complete darkness of an abandoned house. "Bloody Mary..." I repeat, as I grab the handle of my trusty engraved double barrel shotgun. "Bloody Mary!" I shout and immediately turn around and press both of the triggers at the same time. The silver coated 10-gauge buckshot shreds a hideous figure, leaving smoking holes where it entered. This one is no more, this wretched place has been purified, my work is done here. I stand still for another moment, examine the creature. It's definitely finished, nothing could have survived that blast. Although, being who I am you can never be too sure. I shatter the mirror with the stock of my weapon, sling it on my shoulder and grab one of the gasoline cans I have prepared. I open it and pour it generously over the remains of the being and the bathroom of the house. On my way out I pour a couple more cans, the building reeks of it when I'm finished. I walk out onto the porch, my coat flies nervously on the wind. This side of the Jersey River isn't the most calm one, the locals are definitely not startled by two gunshots that happened just a couple of minutes ago, although what is about to happen will most absolutely gain the much undeserved attention. I reach into my coat, dig a pack of cigarettes of a pocket along with a lighter. I insert the cancer-stick into my mouth and light it. After a couple of drags that do help with my nerves, I toss the still glowing butt into the dark bowels of the ruin. It quickly bursts in flames, as I walk away I can feel the heat on my back. I hop onto my steel steed, a Harley-Davidson Fat Bob, as dark as the night that surrounds me. My heavy leather coat creates a horrifying sound as I cruise down the roads of New Jersey.

Finally, I arrive at my safehouse. A small, dirty apartment at a cheap motel, good enough for my needs of staying as low profile as possible. I flick the switch on the wall, a wardrobe moves uncovering the entrance to my secret hideout. I load the shotgun with more silver coated 00 buck, deadly to all magic-using creatures of the supernatural kind. I quickly look through my supplies, note what is needed and quickly head back outside. Fortunately, my boss' office is close, no need to waste fuel. I walk down the road with a lit cigarette in my mouth to enter a small park soon. Who am I? I keep asking myself the same question. I don't even know how old am I, what is my name, why am I doing what I'm doing. I know nothing about myself, I have no past. I don't even know when I lost the memory of who I was. Being lost in my thoughts does not even stop me from feeling that I am being watched. I have always felt the presence of nearby supernatural beings. It was always either through smell or through just this weird, eeiry vibrating sensation that goes through my guts everytime there is something out there. This time, it smelled like a vampire, lurking in the bushes. I press a small button on my right wrist, unfolding the minature crossbow hidden beneath the sleeve of my coat and shoot into the darkness. A couple of seconds later I hear a body drop to the ground, the feeling of a presence stops. I approach the body with a flashlight in my hand. The bolt hit right in the heart, silver tip still smoking inside the chest of the nightwalker. He didn't look like a regular vampire that went to look for a victim to feed on in the wrong park... He was wearing what could be described as combat gear, had a sword on his belt, hidden blades, was basically armed to the teeth. "Who did I piss off this time, huh?" I mumble, as I spit the finished cigarette out of my lips and proceed to search the body. There, just what I was looking for, in a pocket. A contract for my head. No substantial information though, just my profile and the price of whopping ninety thousand US dollars. I guess someone really must want me dead, then. Better watch myself.

A few moments pass until I enter the moist basement that my boss calls an office. The walls are decorated with trophies taken from monsters. I quickly recognize some that I took myself. The place smells of rotten wood, cheap cigarettes and money. I walk up to the giant, wooden desk. "Boss, it's done." I say, while presenting a piece of the broken mirror to the chubby, bald man behind the desk. "Great, here's your money, but what the hell took you so long?" He asks, as he hands an envelope full of money to me. I open it, count the green bills and nod, while stashing the envelope inside my coat. At the same time, I take the contract out of my pocket and put it on top of the desk. "Someone wants to whack me, Boss. It's good they only sent an amateur though." I say as I slide the folded piece of paper to the man. "Whoa, that's serious business... Any idea who might want you dead?" He says after reading what's on the piece of paper and sitting in absolute awe for a while. "No, Boss, unfortunately. If you find something about it, notify me as soon as possible. Uh, are there any other bounties to collect in the meanwhile? I can always use the money..." I say with a monotone, cold voice. "Yeah, there's a troll under a bridge, can you believe it? Third one this week, stupid creatures, what do they see in those bridges? Anyway, you up to it?" The Boss asks, as he lays the envelope with more bounty data inside on his desk. I say nothing while I take the brown dossier, turn around on my feet and head up the stairs. I approach the door, open it, walk outside... and feel a blunt impact on the back of my head, followed by darkness...


Offline BlueJayHighwayTopic starter

Re: Monster Hunter's Journal
« Reply #1 on: June 10, 2017, 09:36:46 AM »
I slowly wake up with a thought-killing pain at the back of my head. It's very dark inside the small room I'm in. I'm sitting on a chair that I'm tied to, hands behind my back, legs tied to the chair legs. Everything is hazy, I slowly notice two men in front of me. "See? He's waking up, I told you he wasn't dead, you idiot!" Says one of them to the other and approaches me. "Wakey wakey, asshole, rise and shine!" He almost yells, making the headache even worse, and slaps me lightly in the face. "So, do you think you can be Buffy the Vampire Hunter and get away with it? Wrong!" He says, before punching me in the face. "Chet Hopkins sends his regards! Get used to that name, you'll hear it way more often when you meet him!" He taunts me, just before exiting the room through the door, locking it behind his comrade. I feel warmth on my face, something is dripping from my eyebrow. I try to move a little on the chair, it's just a wooden one, I feel all it's parts move. I wiggle around the chair, loosening the pegs holding it together. It finally breaks, making me fall onto the cold concrete floor. I manage to put my tied hands back in the front of my body underneath my legs. I grab the chair leg and move to the side of the door as I hear one thug approach it, he must have heard the chair breaking. He opens the door, he is holding a baseball bat. I'm standing in the darkest corner of the room, so he doesn't see me. I hit him over the back of his head, returning the previous favour before he calls his friend for help. I grab the baseball bat off him and go to meet the other thug. He is sitting on a dirty ruined leather couch. "Whack-a-mole!" I say the moment I swing at his head. "Humans... That explains why I felt nothing at the office... I guess I'll have to warn the boss..." I mumble, thinking out loud. I find my way to the kitchen and borrow a knife from the drawer to get rid of my ties. I quickly realize I have nothing on me equipment-wise. I search the unconscious thugs, one of them has a .38 Special revolver. Six shots of a weak round are better than nothing. I set the gun inside my pocket and walk out of the dingy apartment. "Chet Hopkins, huh? Wonder who he is... I have to find out... But first, let's see the boss..." I mutter, as I walk out to the dark.