https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/ Tue, 20 Oct 2026 09:33:23 +0000 MyBB https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=901 Sat, 10 Feb 2024 22:32:13 +0000 Micah Scofield]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=901

Micah hated collaboration. That old saying - if you want to go fast, go alone - if you want to go far, go together - did not apply to him. In his opinion, he went faster and farther by himself. Without the burden of having to communicate his complex, ever-changing stream of consciousness, to wonder whether the other scientist was keeping up and understood the terms and concepts he droned about. Very few scientists understood Micah, and there were a couple that he could tolerate for the sole fact that they stayed well out of his research.

The only man that had kept up with him thus far was Jonah, and damn did Micah hate it.

So, when his boss stated that he had to collaborate with someone for his next project, he ensured that it was not Jonah, or another senior scientist that had too much to say and too little to show for it. Rather, he requested someone from the Department of Agriculture to study the effects of the DraC-2 on crop life, and if there was a chance for the virus to mutate into a plant pathogen.

The Department sent a scientist named Linden Arcangeli to work with him. Micah was bad with names (or rather, he never bothered to remember them), but the surname Arcangeli was hard to ignore. From what Micah had heard, they were famous soil and agriculture scientists who owned Terrane, the older generation of which had worked with Micah's parents.

Micah never got himself involved with the politics of it, and just because the man had that last name did nothing to dissuade Micah from how he wanted this meeting to go. When the young man arrived in the conference room they were scheduled to meet at, Micah hardly raised his eyes from his current manuscript. A very lengthy project, years in the making, about DraC-2's interaction with other viruses, namely the common cold.

"Arcangeli?" he asked, his long fingers typing at his terminal, with no other indication that he noticed the man's arrival.

]]>

Micah hated collaboration. That old saying - if you want to go fast, go alone - if you want to go far, go together - did not apply to him. In his opinion, he went faster and farther by himself. Without the burden of having to communicate his complex, ever-changing stream of consciousness, to wonder whether the other scientist was keeping up and understood the terms and concepts he droned about. Very few scientists understood Micah, and there were a couple that he could tolerate for the sole fact that they stayed well out of his research.

The only man that had kept up with him thus far was Jonah, and damn did Micah hate it.

So, when his boss stated that he had to collaborate with someone for his next project, he ensured that it was not Jonah, or another senior scientist that had too much to say and too little to show for it. Rather, he requested someone from the Department of Agriculture to study the effects of the DraC-2 on crop life, and if there was a chance for the virus to mutate into a plant pathogen.

The Department sent a scientist named Linden Arcangeli to work with him. Micah was bad with names (or rather, he never bothered to remember them), but the surname Arcangeli was hard to ignore. From what Micah had heard, they were famous soil and agriculture scientists who owned Terrane, the older generation of which had worked with Micah's parents.

Micah never got himself involved with the politics of it, and just because the man had that last name did nothing to dissuade Micah from how he wanted this meeting to go. When the young man arrived in the conference room they were scheduled to meet at, Micah hardly raised his eyes from his current manuscript. A very lengthy project, years in the making, about DraC-2's interaction with other viruses, namely the common cold.

"Arcangeli?" he asked, his long fingers typing at his terminal, with no other indication that he noticed the man's arrival.

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=897 Sat, 27 Jan 2024 19:49:32 +0000 North Sigurd]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=897

There's an underlying sense of danger as the Major returns to the familiar halls — a simmering, bubbling feeling of anticipation and adrenaline mixed together with dread. Very little rattles the monster; he has a lot up his sleeve when it comes to manipulating others to do his bidding. But this? This sense of unknowing what may lurk behind closed doors — a foreboding sense of danger at being found out causes an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Fangs itch and claw at his gums from the inside, aching from the need to feel out his emotions in a much more carnal and sanguine matter. The need to rip and tear burns his throat, but the vampire does his best to ignore such bestial urges. It wouldn't do him any good when heading directly into the wolf's nest.

He'd told the man he would be available for any future samples that might be required of him — it seems their last interaction hadn't quite scared off Micah. Not yet anyway. Although North had won in their little competition of wills last time, he wasn't so complacent to believe he could do the same this time. Micah had gotten the samples he requested — what had come of that testing? What would make him call the Major to his labs once again? A toothy grin as he wonders if the scientist had merely just enjoyed their little... Play last time, and wanted something more. It was the mask he would choose to wear, if only to hide the unease hiding in his gut.

His foot moves to an uneasy tempo against the ground as he stands at the back of the elevator, arms crossed against his chest as he leans on the wall. Impatience. Technology moves too slow for a creature that is built on speed and stamina. He could probably run quicker than the elevator—

The doors swing open — stark white nearly blinds him.

It's an interesting difference from the concrete greys of the rest of the Military Compound, built upon a need for protection rather than aesthetics. But the labs of Cypher were built to be pristine in appearance. Does it make the little scientists happy, he wonders; does it make them forget all the blood and gore of the outside world?

Shaking his thoughts away, North leaves the elevator and heads down the various different winding hallways that will lead him to where Micah's laboratory is — he remembers it well, even having been there only once before. A mind like a steel trap, and jaws to suit. His fangs ache once more but he does his best to swallow back the monster inside that wants to leap out of his very skin and slaughter everything in his path. When was the last time he'd fed? Far too long ago, probably, if his urges are still violent within his own mind. North pinches the bridge of his nose to shake free the intrusive thoughts as he stands at the entrance to the lab.

Micah Scofield, M.D, the nameplate next to the door reads. The vampire pauses for a moment at the threshold, as if to better steel his emotions, before he steps into the radius of the automatic doors and allows them to thrust themselves open in greeting.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite doctor, how I've missed you."

TAG: Micah Scofield

]]>

There's an underlying sense of danger as the Major returns to the familiar halls — a simmering, bubbling feeling of anticipation and adrenaline mixed together with dread. Very little rattles the monster; he has a lot up his sleeve when it comes to manipulating others to do his bidding. But this? This sense of unknowing what may lurk behind closed doors — a foreboding sense of danger at being found out causes an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Fangs itch and claw at his gums from the inside, aching from the need to feel out his emotions in a much more carnal and sanguine matter. The need to rip and tear burns his throat, but the vampire does his best to ignore such bestial urges. It wouldn't do him any good when heading directly into the wolf's nest.

He'd told the man he would be available for any future samples that might be required of him — it seems their last interaction hadn't quite scared off Micah. Not yet anyway. Although North had won in their little competition of wills last time, he wasn't so complacent to believe he could do the same this time. Micah had gotten the samples he requested — what had come of that testing? What would make him call the Major to his labs once again? A toothy grin as he wonders if the scientist had merely just enjoyed their little... Play last time, and wanted something more. It was the mask he would choose to wear, if only to hide the unease hiding in his gut.

His foot moves to an uneasy tempo against the ground as he stands at the back of the elevator, arms crossed against his chest as he leans on the wall. Impatience. Technology moves too slow for a creature that is built on speed and stamina. He could probably run quicker than the elevator—

The doors swing open — stark white nearly blinds him.

It's an interesting difference from the concrete greys of the rest of the Military Compound, built upon a need for protection rather than aesthetics. But the labs of Cypher were built to be pristine in appearance. Does it make the little scientists happy, he wonders; does it make them forget all the blood and gore of the outside world?

Shaking his thoughts away, North leaves the elevator and heads down the various different winding hallways that will lead him to where Micah's laboratory is — he remembers it well, even having been there only once before. A mind like a steel trap, and jaws to suit. His fangs ache once more but he does his best to swallow back the monster inside that wants to leap out of his very skin and slaughter everything in his path. When was the last time he'd fed? Far too long ago, probably, if his urges are still violent within his own mind. North pinches the bridge of his nose to shake free the intrusive thoughts as he stands at the entrance to the lab.

Micah Scofield, M.D, the nameplate next to the door reads. The vampire pauses for a moment at the threshold, as if to better steel his emotions, before he steps into the radius of the automatic doors and allows them to thrust themselves open in greeting.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite doctor, how I've missed you."

TAG: Micah Scofield

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=893 Mon, 22 Jan 2024 08:55:12 +0000 Linden Arcangeli]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=893

The appointment was going to be upheld this time and Linden was not going to leave until he get some results. The bastard of the Financial Department wasn't going to ignore him this time. The Food Waste Program still have short comings and to ensure that they get everything that they can, he wanted to see if the military would authorize another shipment of food and implement a soup kitchen of sorts.

Those in power or have resources, himself included, can do so much than spend it frivolously and that was ingrained into him and all the others in the family. Sure, it was okay to spend on quality, but we shouldn't get too big for our britches. That while the company is one of the primary resources to keep the Stronghold together in terms of agriculture and animal husbandry, they all took pride in their work.

Clutching the folder in his hand, Linden pretended that he could control the curls on his head and walked into the main office. The blend of military personnel and civilians lined the room with their cubicles with the final destination at the very end where a armed soldiers stood. Linden knew that beyond those doors would be a sitting area with a proper receptionist of sorts where he will be escorted to the Financial Manager's office.

Chewing on his lower lip, Linden made it past all the check points and found himself gripping the folder tighter than imagined. Was he afraid? Hell no. Now, was he holding his breath? Yes. Why? He honestly forgot to breathe.

He didn't remember what the escort said, but Linden helped himself and opened the door like he owned the place. Looking over to the man who was looking over documents and didn't seem to pay him no mind. "Hello, Major Atreides," says Linden as he walked over to the desk and held the folder in front of him. "Thank you for not rescheduling again, but since time is money, please look over my proposal and your signature would be greatly appreciated."

Might as well aim high.

Tag Daemon Atreides

]]>

The appointment was going to be upheld this time and Linden was not going to leave until he get some results. The bastard of the Financial Department wasn't going to ignore him this time. The Food Waste Program still have short comings and to ensure that they get everything that they can, he wanted to see if the military would authorize another shipment of food and implement a soup kitchen of sorts.

Those in power or have resources, himself included, can do so much than spend it frivolously and that was ingrained into him and all the others in the family. Sure, it was okay to spend on quality, but we shouldn't get too big for our britches. That while the company is one of the primary resources to keep the Stronghold together in terms of agriculture and animal husbandry, they all took pride in their work.

Clutching the folder in his hand, Linden pretended that he could control the curls on his head and walked into the main office. The blend of military personnel and civilians lined the room with their cubicles with the final destination at the very end where a armed soldiers stood. Linden knew that beyond those doors would be a sitting area with a proper receptionist of sorts where he will be escorted to the Financial Manager's office.

Chewing on his lower lip, Linden made it past all the check points and found himself gripping the folder tighter than imagined. Was he afraid? Hell no. Now, was he holding his breath? Yes. Why? He honestly forgot to breathe.

He didn't remember what the escort said, but Linden helped himself and opened the door like he owned the place. Looking over to the man who was looking over documents and didn't seem to pay him no mind. "Hello, Major Atreides," says Linden as he walked over to the desk and held the folder in front of him. "Thank you for not rescheduling again, but since time is money, please look over my proposal and your signature would be greatly appreciated."

Might as well aim high.

Tag Daemon Atreides

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=892 Mon, 22 Jan 2024 07:29:03 +0000 Linden Arcangeli]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=892

The company of Terrene was running like a well-oiled machine as Linden looked on the computer screen as the data from all the vertical platforms showed they were functioning properly. Donning on his light blue coat, he contained the curls under a bouffant and filled his pockets with disposable gloves.

"How far along are we with the soil tests from Sites A-E? The wells in Alpha Sector? The rain collection analysis?"

"The soil tests, last I heard, is still another day or two away. The wells in Alpha Sector are repaired and reinforced with an adequate pump. The data for the recent week of rain is above average and we have already begun the purification process."

"Okay, and our back-up resources, have there been any depletion? The Food Waste Program, how is that coming along?" Asked Linden as the assistant followed him out of the control room and down to the main floor where all the vertical platforms were for a visual inspection. The LED colored light algorithm working nicely as he but the main inspection were on for the roots and leaves to see if there were any deficiencies.

"We are accumulating quite nicely on the resources and the deep freeze warehouses are running strongly with weekly maintenance checks. As for the Food Waste Program, we are still getting push-back but we are lucky the Military is allowing us to do a delivery to the city slums once a month if we have anything. It's like some of the people in the Inner Citadel are allowing food to rot."

Ah, yes. The battle of power when it came to resources and the military seized his family's business because why give food to those who needed it and teach them how to grow their own garden? The basic necessities for humans to thrive was taken away as a way to exert control.

Linden would go to each platform to look over the physical charts before having his assistant make notes in the tablet. Taking out a pair of gloves to don on as he would reach in and take a random stem, mark it, and a trim of a root that was not part of the main grouping. "I know I say it all the time but damn, I do love aeroponics."

The assistant pressed a hand to their ear piece and leaned closer to Linden to whisper so no one else could hear. "It appears we have company, Mr. Arcangeli. Shall we head to the office?"

A frown appeared on his face as he let out a sigh and hung his head, but shook a "no". "If someone who is authorized decided to drop in then we continue operations. I am not changing my schedule around to suit their needs, they will suit mine. So take the samples back to the lab and have it be checked and tell the others to send them to me here since I still have work to do."

"Understood."

Tag North Sigurd

]]>

The company of Terrene was running like a well-oiled machine as Linden looked on the computer screen as the data from all the vertical platforms showed they were functioning properly. Donning on his light blue coat, he contained the curls under a bouffant and filled his pockets with disposable gloves.

"How far along are we with the soil tests from Sites A-E? The wells in Alpha Sector? The rain collection analysis?"

"The soil tests, last I heard, is still another day or two away. The wells in Alpha Sector are repaired and reinforced with an adequate pump. The data for the recent week of rain is above average and we have already begun the purification process."

"Okay, and our back-up resources, have there been any depletion? The Food Waste Program, how is that coming along?" Asked Linden as the assistant followed him out of the control room and down to the main floor where all the vertical platforms were for a visual inspection. The LED colored light algorithm working nicely as he but the main inspection were on for the roots and leaves to see if there were any deficiencies.

"We are accumulating quite nicely on the resources and the deep freeze warehouses are running strongly with weekly maintenance checks. As for the Food Waste Program, we are still getting push-back but we are lucky the Military is allowing us to do a delivery to the city slums once a month if we have anything. It's like some of the people in the Inner Citadel are allowing food to rot."

Ah, yes. The battle of power when it came to resources and the military seized his family's business because why give food to those who needed it and teach them how to grow their own garden? The basic necessities for humans to thrive was taken away as a way to exert control.

Linden would go to each platform to look over the physical charts before having his assistant make notes in the tablet. Taking out a pair of gloves to don on as he would reach in and take a random stem, mark it, and a trim of a root that was not part of the main grouping. "I know I say it all the time but damn, I do love aeroponics."

The assistant pressed a hand to their ear piece and leaned closer to Linden to whisper so no one else could hear. "It appears we have company, Mr. Arcangeli. Shall we head to the office?"

A frown appeared on his face as he let out a sigh and hung his head, but shook a "no". "If someone who is authorized decided to drop in then we continue operations. I am not changing my schedule around to suit their needs, they will suit mine. So take the samples back to the lab and have it be checked and tell the others to send them to me here since I still have work to do."

"Understood."

Tag North Sigurd

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=882 Mon, 24 Jul 2023 04:36:47 +0000 Heath Langstrum]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=882

The warning sign that he was spending too much time in his shabby, worn out office in the slums was when he'd woken up at his desk and thought a Jabberwocky was hovering over his desk — resulting in him firing a couple rounds from his gun that ended up embedded in the wall.

In truth he felt so close at times that he overworked himself, pushing himself to keep following leads that could help him bring down the gangsters overwhelming the streets like filthy rats. He knew it, and yet it was hard to stop himself. He didn't have anyone to help him either, especially not after his own Captain had betrayed him. Trust was nonexistent to the Lieutenant now, and he could feel it pulling at his mental health. So, he did the next best thing he could think of —

Work at his Military compound office instead. At least it was brighter and cleaner, the soft hum of electronics keeping him awake along with the soft chatter of people walking back and forth past his office.

But still, he works — works himself to the bone, a glass of rum on his desk helping to bolster him along. It's not healthy in any way, but it works. At least, he pretends it does. Perhaps he needs a night off from the stack of paperwork in front of him, but Heath is loathe to do it on his own...

Tag Dallas Saraiva-Hertado

]]>

The warning sign that he was spending too much time in his shabby, worn out office in the slums was when he'd woken up at his desk and thought a Jabberwocky was hovering over his desk — resulting in him firing a couple rounds from his gun that ended up embedded in the wall.

In truth he felt so close at times that he overworked himself, pushing himself to keep following leads that could help him bring down the gangsters overwhelming the streets like filthy rats. He knew it, and yet it was hard to stop himself. He didn't have anyone to help him either, especially not after his own Captain had betrayed him. Trust was nonexistent to the Lieutenant now, and he could feel it pulling at his mental health. So, he did the next best thing he could think of —

Work at his Military compound office instead. At least it was brighter and cleaner, the soft hum of electronics keeping him awake along with the soft chatter of people walking back and forth past his office.

But still, he works — works himself to the bone, a glass of rum on his desk helping to bolster him along. It's not healthy in any way, but it works. At least, he pretends it does. Perhaps he needs a night off from the stack of paperwork in front of him, but Heath is loathe to do it on his own...

Tag Dallas Saraiva-Hertado

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=852 Thu, 15 Dec 2022 02:46:35 +0000 Heath Langstrum]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=852

He'd heard the news — stories, gossip, about the higher ranks shuffling around once more. Except that they weren't really shuffling around, so much as... Making room for an old face once more. The Colonel had been gone for over a year, and no one really batted an eye at first when a new face had slipped into his chair. The Military was a dangerous place, after all; people got hurt, people got killed — or worse, people got turned. It had been a rank shuffle that had surprised no one, but gossip spread like a flame now that the previous Colonel had returned to his rank once more.

Heath didn't know the details; didn't care to know the details. No matter who it was that sat in the offices many floors above him, he was loyal to them all without question.

There wasn't really a flicker of surprise that shadowed his day when he found himself called to the man's office. He could guess what it was about — judging on the timing of the Colonel's original leave of absence, he wasn't around for the little confrontation that Heath had to take care of in regards to his previous Captain and ex-friend. Of course the man in charge would want to know exactly what had happened to throw the Military into such disarray in his absence. The Lieutenant was quick on his feet when the message first flashed across his communication device, and as promptly as possible he made his way to the upper floors.

Heath fixes the collar of his shirt before he knocks on the door to the man's office — large, and imposing, meant to strike fear into subordinates.

"Lieutenant Langstrum reporting, sir."

Tag Alejandro Montes

]]>

He'd heard the news — stories, gossip, about the higher ranks shuffling around once more. Except that they weren't really shuffling around, so much as... Making room for an old face once more. The Colonel had been gone for over a year, and no one really batted an eye at first when a new face had slipped into his chair. The Military was a dangerous place, after all; people got hurt, people got killed — or worse, people got turned. It had been a rank shuffle that had surprised no one, but gossip spread like a flame now that the previous Colonel had returned to his rank once more.

Heath didn't know the details; didn't care to know the details. No matter who it was that sat in the offices many floors above him, he was loyal to them all without question.

There wasn't really a flicker of surprise that shadowed his day when he found himself called to the man's office. He could guess what it was about — judging on the timing of the Colonel's original leave of absence, he wasn't around for the little confrontation that Heath had to take care of in regards to his previous Captain and ex-friend. Of course the man in charge would want to know exactly what had happened to throw the Military into such disarray in his absence. The Lieutenant was quick on his feet when the message first flashed across his communication device, and as promptly as possible he made his way to the upper floors.

Heath fixes the collar of his shirt before he knocks on the door to the man's office — large, and imposing, meant to strike fear into subordinates.

"Lieutenant Langstrum reporting, sir."

Tag Alejandro Montes

]]>