The Apollo Inn
 

As you turn a quiet corner, you spot a three story wood-frame building with a small sign over the blue door. The sign features a swirling dragon and a young man/woman beneath it. In a hand-lettered script beneath the image the words “The The Apollo Inn” are emblazoned.

You push open the heavy door and walk into a room warmed by a large fireplace. Tables and chairs are scattered across the room with no pattern apparent. A tall woman approaches you with a glass full of your favorite beverage.

“Hello and welcome to the Inn. My name is Artemis and my brother and I own this establishment.”

She gestures to a table next you and you both at the table.

“We opened this place so that creatures of every race and type could come together peacefully and enjoy a quiet drink and some conversation.”

She stands from the table and leaves you with your drink.

“Enjoy your stay at the Inn.”

She sweeps away from the table, attending to another customer.

{{I established this thread for people to drop by and have a chat in character. I’m hoping that it will become a place for people with characters already developed to come and find an rp in character. So have fun, come in and have a chat. I’ll be in and out, interacting with all you lovely folks.}}

You look to the bar and see a small sign posted there...

Rules of the Inn

I. Mind the rules of the land. {{Follow all Menew TOS! This means that you actually have to read them.}}
I. Take your violence outside, this is a place of peace {{ No God-modding or killing other characters without agreements.}}
I. Why’d your voice change? What’s the matter with you? {{Ooc must be formatted like so {{}}, [[]], (()).}}

Artemis wiped down the oaken table with a bar cloth. She looked around the Inn and noticed how terribly quiet it was.
"Lonely night," she mumbled to no one in particular.
Artemis crossed the room and walked behind the bar. She poured herself a scotch and sat down to sip the thirty-year-old whiskey.

Anime boy image by Rinouchi on Photobucket


*the door opened, but if you were looking for the average eye level of an adult....you wouldnt see anyone, in fact, youd have to look down. He dashed across the room to the silver haired....female.... pointing at her* DER YOU IS!!! You's supposed to be teaching meh not running away from meh.

Someone was there. Someone that wasn't before. A man sitting at a table in the far corner of the room; the only one in the entire establishment besides those who just entered and the innkeep, as far as anyone could tell. Everything about the man radiates malice and uneasy feelings; from his slumped posture to his black-drenched clothing, yellow sunglasses and snow-white hair. Even a quick glance revealed that he did not belong here, nor did he belong anywhere. He was reading a piece of parchment over, his face shrouded by the darkness of the particular corner; perhaps maybe why he picked it. The man puts the parchment down and leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, his foot tapping softly and quickly--a sign of anticipation or nervousness, to be sure.

The man pushes back his chair, standing up without a sound, pushing his sunglasses up with the palm of his hand. "No. Not a chance." He answers bluntly, his voice strong and clear; though he speaks slowly, as if the language of the land wasn't his first. "Can't have him slowing me down." He answers, walking slowly around from the table, his own boots making a thump sound on the wooden floors with each step. "And chances are, I would just kill the little thing anyways." He pauses for a moment, thinking to himself quietly, before he reaches into his jacket. Thinking better of it, he withdraws his empty hand and pushes his sunglasses up once more; a habit of his. "Listen, you can help me in other ways." He walks around the woman, looking her over. "I'm looking for a girl. Long, blonde hair, often dresses in white and blue. Named Millia. You seen her 'round here?" He says, pausing to adjust his jacket. "I got a tip she was somewhere around here, see, and I have some unfinished business with her."

[[Cough cough, well you see, I make up things as I go along. And I just HAPPEN to have a background of Millia Rage on my computer right now, so...cough cough. Let's pretend this character is completely unrelated and it's only a coincidence.]]

"Sigh. Another lead dead." The man pushed his glasses up again and walked calmly back to his seat, sitting down. He observes the girl tensing up and laughs--a laugh that seems devoid of emotion. A hollow and empty sound, as if the man himself didn't exist. "Come now. There's no need to be worried. You haven't done anything to me, so you don't need to fear for your life." He says, a certain amount of malice in those last words and in the next sentence that follows. "Let us keep it that way, hmm?" He puts his boots up on the table and folds his arms, putting his head down, getting into a position to doze off. "And I still don't want the brat. Don't wanna kill 'im either, he ain't done nothing to me. I was never good with kids. Still ain't. For some reason, they just tend to run away in fright whenever I'm around. Well, the smart ones do, the dumb ones tend to ask me questions and annoy me. Worthless, they'll become useless later in life. The smart ones've got a long time ahead of them." He says, all in a slow and clear voice; half-tempted to start speaking in his native tongue to the girl and the kid to scare them.

"Just your body? Well, I won't rape you either, if that's what you are thinking about." He says, his folded arms resting in his lap as he speaks, apparently faking no interest in the conversation. "Sensual satisfaction isn't on the menu for me right now." He says, his pale skin almost luminescent in the little light that hits him. He lifts his head when the necromancer asks about him, and he puts his feet down under the table but keeps his posture slumped and arms folded. "Well, that's a hefty question you're asking, 'stranger'." He mimics her tone of voice when he spits out the word 'stranger', obviously disliking said word very much. "Would it suffice for me to say 'not of the human world', or do you wish more?" As far as one could see, he was not a very attractive man; a slender face and bony cheeks, though it is nearly impossible to tell his age due to how much of his face is obscured at all times.

"Well. I am dead in a sense, but not the one you are thinking of." He says to the necromancer, not liking how easily he trusted this person. Perhaps it was because he saw something more to her than meets the eye, or perhaps it was from being alone so long, but he found it easy to talk to the...girl. "No. Not exactly a daemon either. I'm more human than some others of my kind, but I'm not human." He says, standing up and sighing, beginning to pace slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. "Sigh. I know I'll get in deep shit for this, but I might as well tell you. After all, everyone has their secrets, and I bet you have some too." He says, turning to face the...woman. "Do you know what shapeshifters are? If so, well...there's your answer, girl. The name's Mikhail Lenimov...I wouldn't be surprised if you've heard of me before, but if so, it's only been negative."

Mikhail nods and sits back in his chair, done pacing. "Well, you already know what I'm here for and what I am. So I think it's your turn to spill." He says, pushing his glasses up once more; quite the habit, one would observe--even more odd how he does it with the palm of his hand and not his fingers. His eyes being never once visible since the necromancer saw him. "You can start by telling me why you're keeping that little...thing around you. Also, I wouldn't mind knowing why you're here and what goal you have in mind for the future. And anything else." He runs his hand through his hair and folds his arms once more, his foot tapping again. "I promise to return the favor in kind if you tell me. But I'd like to know. After all, you never know when such information can work in your benefit, and the sharing would be mutual." He pushes his glasses up yet again as they keep sliding down a little bit; and he seemingly wishes to keep his eyes hidden for some reason.

"His family tricked you? Well, why not just kill the bugger and move on with your life?" He says, pushing up his glasses again, a small grin creeping across his face; which disappears instantly when she says the sentence about world domination. He flinches noticeably when the...girl calls him 'love', but otherwise remains calm. "You certainly have your hopes high, 'Lark'. I wish you luck with your goal, no matter how impossible it seems to be." His face breaks into a small smile again as he looks up to the ceiling. "Well, you know why I'm here...but as for my goal, only wanton slaughter of those who have wronged me in the past interests me now. That's why I'm looking for this girl, 'Millia'. To kill her." He puts it quite bluntly, not having to push up his glasses while looking upward. "Morbid goal, I know, but I am a morbid guy." He gives a small laugh, yawning slightly. "Ugh, it's been awhile since I slept." he looks down back at the necromancer, his eyebrow raised. "So, is that all you're going to tell me? Because if so, that's all you'll get as well."