Post by Lucian D'Revere on Jul 11, 2011 0:16:36 GMT -5
It was quite apparent upon this moonlit night, by the howls of the wolves all about and over through the forests of green and brown, that there had been death upon this 'macabre' place. The blood stains of Sin Eater and Pure held the ground at a near blood-mud like consistency, chalked over in the blue mist of the tears of the dead. The walls at the front of the Asylum were now frayed and sprayed with blood and bullets, two police cars flipped and otherwise destroyed- stripped bare of occupants and their gear. The rapport of gunfire still sounds off as though it were in the distance- a distance found from within the belly of the building. A single white cloaked male sat outside of the building, his clothes smeared in blood and tinged with the stain of sinew.
The man was on his knees, his hand clasped around a silver crucifix as the gentle mumbles of his prayers played on under the echoing howls of wolves. The crucifix upon further inspection actually looked more like a white-silver metallic handle, perhaps the hilt to a blade to the trained eye. His hood covered his face hiding his more direct features.
From around the man their seemed to be a gentle light, forming a sphere about his person. Beneath his praying arms upon the ground was a single red candle, it's tiny fire burning in a futile fight against the air of the night, the fog that was shrouding this place was humid and heavy. He finished his prayer, and not even the black cats that perused the blood fields would go near his frame.
(Blessing of Saint Agrippina. Only those of evil/ill will/supernaturals of presence 6+ may come within 10 feet of him.)
The man was on his knees, his hand clasped around a silver crucifix as the gentle mumbles of his prayers played on under the echoing howls of wolves. The crucifix upon further inspection actually looked more like a white-silver metallic handle, perhaps the hilt to a blade to the trained eye. His hood covered his face hiding his more direct features.
From around the man their seemed to be a gentle light, forming a sphere about his person. Beneath his praying arms upon the ground was a single red candle, it's tiny fire burning in a futile fight against the air of the night, the fog that was shrouding this place was humid and heavy. He finished his prayer, and not even the black cats that perused the blood fields would go near his frame.
(Blessing of Saint Agrippina. Only those of evil/ill will/supernaturals of presence 6+ may come within 10 feet of him.)