Ghouls: A Roleplay Story

Prologue

The Human, the Dread, the Ghoul

“Wow, it really is dark in here.” He whispered softly. His grey eyes opened halfway to the grey and silver rain that trickled down to the body of the city. Lights bouncing back and forth, a transparent prison of light and urban walls, with reflections that only showed the body of a human male, standing there in front of the old glass building. His hair in an undercut style, the upper hair swayed to his left. His old fashioned attire shading all but his fingers and head. The long grey trench coat was almost to his joints that connected the man’s feet to his leg. The bartender best under the coat a nice brown color. His black pants a nice and comfortable look, his dark silver boots keeping his feet protected from the damp rain. His dark brown greyish brown fingerless gloves keeping his hands warm and blood flow going.

He could feel dread. The angel of dread wrapping her arms and legs around his body, engulfing the human. Rubbing his neck and face with the dread that he held. Her lips tingling against his shoulder. Her moans the screams of the young and innocent. Her warm breath the feel of their blood spattering onto his pale skin. A suitcase stood before the male and dreaded angel. A suitcase of what HE held. What remained of him.

“Спасибо”

Was imprinted onto the case. The male derived his eyes down to the suitcase, slowly reaching past the angel to wrap his fingers and palm around the handle. The old and broken handle. He lifted the case up, and settled it beside his right leg. Slowly turning his sight up and to reflection of himself.

"Мне так жаль.” He whispered softly. An Irish and Russian accent slowly flowing out into of his whisper. It was such an odd accent for the land he stood in. The Japanese flag slowly flowing over his head, over the peoples’ head.

“Брат?” A voice rung. A mix of polish and finish, that hint of Russian still there. A white haired man slowly stepped towards him, wearing a very similar attire, but mostly grey and white. He stepped forward, the steps of wet boots and cemented flooring tapping into the other man’s ears.

“You look good. For an human.” The man said I'm a teasing manner.

The broken man looked to his friend, his eyes set onto him. Giving out a gentle smile, he turned his body to face the white haired male.

“At least me name isn't Christen. Bein’ named after a religion?” the brown haired male said to the white haired one.

Christen, the white haired male, chuckled to the brown one’s remark.

“Yeah, it's weird being named after something I don't follow. But good hell, the name.kierna fits ya. Mr. Dark one.” Christen said with a smile. His green eyes on Kieran.

Kieran shrugged lightly, his brown hair getting damper as rain fell onto the two. “Yeah, I muse so.” Kieran said softly. Looking to Christen. They both took a moment, before Christen slowly turned his body away from Kieran.

“We've gotta large amount of walking to do before we get to the house and others. May as well start.” Christen said softly, slowly beginning to walk away.

Kieran remained still, watching as he turned, spoke, and moved away from the mirrors and reflections the glass building gave off. He slowly turned to his left, looking into the reflection of himself. Kieran gripped his suitcase tighter, his legs slowly lifting himself away from the building. His sight fading, and the angel of dread being left in the rain. Her face slowly tilting as the male wondered away. She knew she would return, knew he would be in her arms again. And without a blink, her body vanished. Citizens walking past like nothing had changed. And the two males vanishing within the crowds of men, women, and children…