https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/ Tue, 20 Oct 2026 09:33:29 +0000 MyBB https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=900 Tue, 30 Jan 2024 15:26:51 +0000 Damon Argyris]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=900

Quilter parties were well known for being the best parties around. The family just knew how to throw a fun party! There were always good people around to talk to as well as good food and plenty of booze. And while the parties were always fun they were never what one might call ragers. Property damage wasn’t really a thing and people getting arrested not so much. Everyone tended to have a damned good time without having to go throw shit at things or otherwise cause a ruckus that no one wanted. Everyone wanted to be invited to the Quiller's parties and as ever Damon was rather pleased he was invited. Though this time he was also a bit surprised, though of course he was going!

He’d even shaved and dressed up slightly for the party, no reason not to come looking his nicest. Well, maybe not that. His most formal outfit was his dress blues and he wasn’t about to show up to a Quiller party in his military uniform. Though… for a moment he wondered if Eros would like to see him in that. Did Eros like a man in uniform? That was a damned good question in all honesty. Because if Eros did? Well he would for sure come decked out in his formal wear! Okay, now he was debating messaging Eros and asking if he would want to see that or if he should just go with the nice civilian wear he had.

Fuck it! He would go in his dress blues and find out, worst case scenario it made him look good and he could tell some fun stories. Besides, the dress uniform looked damned good since it was actually tailored to fit him rather than just being the right general size for him. He might be friends with the Quillers and work in the military but he wasn’t exactly rolling in money. Oh he lived comfortably enough but now wasn’t the time to think about it.

He decided to even go with the cap after he slicked his hair back. If he was going to go in his formal military attire he might as well go with the entire look, right? He grabbed the long coat and tossed it on, heading out of his place with a bit of an eager step. He was getting better at walking on his prosthetic leg, getting more used to the way it moved and reacted. That made walking around a hell of a lot easier and he’d gotten back into jogging as well which was nice. It was still strange at times and hard to forget that it was there but at least it was easier than it had been when he first got the leg.

The trip to the Quiller’s wasn’t all that eventful and he was greeted by his friends, making him grin as he stepped inside. The teasing, of course, was expected since he’d come in his formal attire. But he just laughed and joked back with them, not worrying about their comments in the least. It wasn’t like he was wearing it for them! And he was being very careful not to let his eyes wander around the room looking for a certain Quiller in particular. Though it was hard not to do he managed it… mostly.

Finally he was able to extract himself from his friends and find himself a drink and a chance to actually look around. Now he was wandering from room to room looking for Eros, drink in hand but hardly touched.

Tag Eros Quiller

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Quilter parties were well known for being the best parties around. The family just knew how to throw a fun party! There were always good people around to talk to as well as good food and plenty of booze. And while the parties were always fun they were never what one might call ragers. Property damage wasn’t really a thing and people getting arrested not so much. Everyone tended to have a damned good time without having to go throw shit at things or otherwise cause a ruckus that no one wanted. Everyone wanted to be invited to the Quiller's parties and as ever Damon was rather pleased he was invited. Though this time he was also a bit surprised, though of course he was going!

He’d even shaved and dressed up slightly for the party, no reason not to come looking his nicest. Well, maybe not that. His most formal outfit was his dress blues and he wasn’t about to show up to a Quiller party in his military uniform. Though… for a moment he wondered if Eros would like to see him in that. Did Eros like a man in uniform? That was a damned good question in all honesty. Because if Eros did? Well he would for sure come decked out in his formal wear! Okay, now he was debating messaging Eros and asking if he would want to see that or if he should just go with the nice civilian wear he had.

Fuck it! He would go in his dress blues and find out, worst case scenario it made him look good and he could tell some fun stories. Besides, the dress uniform looked damned good since it was actually tailored to fit him rather than just being the right general size for him. He might be friends with the Quillers and work in the military but he wasn’t exactly rolling in money. Oh he lived comfortably enough but now wasn’t the time to think about it.

He decided to even go with the cap after he slicked his hair back. If he was going to go in his formal military attire he might as well go with the entire look, right? He grabbed the long coat and tossed it on, heading out of his place with a bit of an eager step. He was getting better at walking on his prosthetic leg, getting more used to the way it moved and reacted. That made walking around a hell of a lot easier and he’d gotten back into jogging as well which was nice. It was still strange at times and hard to forget that it was there but at least it was easier than it had been when he first got the leg.

The trip to the Quiller’s wasn’t all that eventful and he was greeted by his friends, making him grin as he stepped inside. The teasing, of course, was expected since he’d come in his formal attire. But he just laughed and joked back with them, not worrying about their comments in the least. It wasn’t like he was wearing it for them! And he was being very careful not to let his eyes wander around the room looking for a certain Quiller in particular. Though it was hard not to do he managed it… mostly.

Finally he was able to extract himself from his friends and find himself a drink and a chance to actually look around. Now he was wandering from room to room looking for Eros, drink in hand but hardly touched.

Tag Eros Quiller

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=735 Mon, 04 Oct 2021 23:36:10 +0000 Brock O'King]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=735

Another night, another hosted party for the benefit of the rich.

It's not like Brock was exactly a social creature. He didn't enjoy having people in flocks around him because it delighted him to be in company with other people. Oh no. He enjoyed them lavishing him with praises of course — but that's about as far as his need for socializing went. Still, it always went well for him to keep up appearances amongst the socialites of Stronghold. Gain their adoration and support, so that he could continue playing both sides of the law without anyone batting an eye.

Tonight was no different. A dinner event held in his lavish penthouse, complete with wait staff and a whole host of chefs that would see to the whole thing being a raving success. Being the man of the hour, Brock made sure to make his way throughout the place, talking to anyone and everyone he could — even if it was merely a 'thank you for coming' speech. He recognized most faces — people from the Military, civilians with old money, and even a couple of research scientists from Cypher sprinkled into the mix. This even was meant to be for his daytime life, which meant there were no Jabberwockies wandering about. No, he'd have a special event for them later no doubt. Although he didn't consider gangsters fun party-goers to begin with. Too much violence after a couple drinks.

Brock takes a break, approaching the bar for another drink — a custom-made bar in one of his many lounges, stocked to high heavens with all assortments of drinks. As the man waits for his drink, a scotch on the rocks, his eyes spot another familiar face in the crowd, one he had yet to greet. Grabbing his drink as soon as it's ready, the man makes his way over to the woman with a grin on his face.

"Well, if it isn't Ms. Seryna Constantine! Then again, I shouldn't be surprised to see you here," Brock greets the woman, stopping just short of invading her personal space. "Thank you for coming to the party, it's always nice to see another civilian face in the mix," he continues with a laugh, a small quirk of one of his brows as he glances around the room at all the Military personnel. Sometimes they could be a bit stifling.

Tag Seryna Constantine

]]>

Another night, another hosted party for the benefit of the rich.

It's not like Brock was exactly a social creature. He didn't enjoy having people in flocks around him because it delighted him to be in company with other people. Oh no. He enjoyed them lavishing him with praises of course — but that's about as far as his need for socializing went. Still, it always went well for him to keep up appearances amongst the socialites of Stronghold. Gain their adoration and support, so that he could continue playing both sides of the law without anyone batting an eye.

Tonight was no different. A dinner event held in his lavish penthouse, complete with wait staff and a whole host of chefs that would see to the whole thing being a raving success. Being the man of the hour, Brock made sure to make his way throughout the place, talking to anyone and everyone he could — even if it was merely a 'thank you for coming' speech. He recognized most faces — people from the Military, civilians with old money, and even a couple of research scientists from Cypher sprinkled into the mix. This even was meant to be for his daytime life, which meant there were no Jabberwockies wandering about. No, he'd have a special event for them later no doubt. Although he didn't consider gangsters fun party-goers to begin with. Too much violence after a couple drinks.

Brock takes a break, approaching the bar for another drink — a custom-made bar in one of his many lounges, stocked to high heavens with all assortments of drinks. As the man waits for his drink, a scotch on the rocks, his eyes spot another familiar face in the crowd, one he had yet to greet. Grabbing his drink as soon as it's ready, the man makes his way over to the woman with a grin on his face.

"Well, if it isn't Ms. Seryna Constantine! Then again, I shouldn't be surprised to see you here," Brock greets the woman, stopping just short of invading her personal space. "Thank you for coming to the party, it's always nice to see another civilian face in the mix," he continues with a laugh, a small quirk of one of his brows as he glances around the room at all the Military personnel. Sometimes they could be a bit stifling.

Tag Seryna Constantine

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=707 Mon, 27 Sep 2021 04:07:39 +0000 Brock O'King]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=707

CONTENT WARNING Human pet interactions
NOTES This thread starts in The Crossroads
He'd been made aware of the... Transition, but he still didn't know what to expect. A little gift from the Spades, to remind him that they had a fruitful relationship that was worth keeping — so long as they both kept up their end of the bargain, of course. A man such as Brock was used to gifts of persuasion to keep someone in Brock's good graces, but it was the first time he was experiencing such a thing from the Jabberwockies.

And what a gift it was.

A Level V Infected that was unsuitable for the fighting rings — Brock didn't really know what to expect other than that, but there was a certain thrill over being granted power over the life of another living being. Brock had never had any sort of desire for slaves or human 'pets' before — he was a cruel and callous bastard, but he wouldn't stoop that low, not like some of the rich dicks he knew personally — but then again, an Infected wasn't really a human, now was it? It was just a beast that had only one thing on its mind: its bloodlust. Of course Level V's were something much more special than a common beast. It was like a purebred amongst mongrels, and the thought of that gave the man a dark thrill.

Which is why he currently stood in one of the underground parkings at a Spades' establishment, a large, black van parked behind him. Two equally large men stood on either side of him; a guard detail, not for the Jabberwockies, but rather for the thing they would have with them. Being underground in a hidden 'bunker' of sorts meant lighting was rare to come by, and only barely-functional floodlights provided enough light to see.

Brock had been greeted early by Spades' gang members, but they'd vanished now into a set of double doors on the far side of the parking lot, which no doubt led into one of the many arenas they held infected fights. It left time for the man to stew on his thoughts, of what he planned to do with this Patient Zero. He paced back and forth in front of the ban — patiently, mind you, with arms crossed over his chest as a show of power — his men equally silent at his side.

The parked van was on loan from one of his Military contacts. It was a rare vehicle to find, and even rarer one to own — but Brock barely had to pull strings in order to acquire such a rare treasure. It was one of the vans that Cypher used in the past to bring live Infected back into Stronghold from the outside world. The entire cargo section of the van was decked out with reinforced steel and leather — straps, chains, and all assortments of tools necessary to keep a strong, supernatural creature in quarantine for the ride. Brock didn't know what kind of man this Infected was going to be. Deemed an ill fit for the fighting arenas was an interesting way to put things, but for whatever reason, he hadn't been told much else.

But that didn't matter to Brock.

He was used to putting beasts in their place.

Tag Ryatt

]]>

CONTENT WARNING Human pet interactions
NOTES This thread starts in The Crossroads
He'd been made aware of the... Transition, but he still didn't know what to expect. A little gift from the Spades, to remind him that they had a fruitful relationship that was worth keeping — so long as they both kept up their end of the bargain, of course. A man such as Brock was used to gifts of persuasion to keep someone in Brock's good graces, but it was the first time he was experiencing such a thing from the Jabberwockies.

And what a gift it was.

A Level V Infected that was unsuitable for the fighting rings — Brock didn't really know what to expect other than that, but there was a certain thrill over being granted power over the life of another living being. Brock had never had any sort of desire for slaves or human 'pets' before — he was a cruel and callous bastard, but he wouldn't stoop that low, not like some of the rich dicks he knew personally — but then again, an Infected wasn't really a human, now was it? It was just a beast that had only one thing on its mind: its bloodlust. Of course Level V's were something much more special than a common beast. It was like a purebred amongst mongrels, and the thought of that gave the man a dark thrill.

Which is why he currently stood in one of the underground parkings at a Spades' establishment, a large, black van parked behind him. Two equally large men stood on either side of him; a guard detail, not for the Jabberwockies, but rather for the thing they would have with them. Being underground in a hidden 'bunker' of sorts meant lighting was rare to come by, and only barely-functional floodlights provided enough light to see.

Brock had been greeted early by Spades' gang members, but they'd vanished now into a set of double doors on the far side of the parking lot, which no doubt led into one of the many arenas they held infected fights. It left time for the man to stew on his thoughts, of what he planned to do with this Patient Zero. He paced back and forth in front of the ban — patiently, mind you, with arms crossed over his chest as a show of power — his men equally silent at his side.

The parked van was on loan from one of his Military contacts. It was a rare vehicle to find, and even rarer one to own — but Brock barely had to pull strings in order to acquire such a rare treasure. It was one of the vans that Cypher used in the past to bring live Infected back into Stronghold from the outside world. The entire cargo section of the van was decked out with reinforced steel and leather — straps, chains, and all assortments of tools necessary to keep a strong, supernatural creature in quarantine for the ride. Brock didn't know what kind of man this Infected was going to be. Deemed an ill fit for the fighting arenas was an interesting way to put things, but for whatever reason, he hadn't been told much else.

But that didn't matter to Brock.

He was used to putting beasts in their place.

Tag Ryatt

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=689 Wed, 22 Sep 2021 21:11:19 +0000 Damon Argyris]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=689

Everything in Damon's life had gone to shit and it was his own fault. He'd been thr idiot standing too close to the explosion and thus the one who had gotten his own leg taken off when his bomb went off when it wasn't supposed to. The explosion itself hadn't actually been that big but he'd just been unlucky as fuck... perhaps karma coming to bite him in the ass. Or maybe it was just bound to happen. When you worker with explosives shit happened. Though usually he was a touch wiser than to stand so fucking close to one! Then again it hadn't been supposed to go off so he could maybe be forgiven his lapse in judgment.

Whatever force had conspired to make it happen it was done. Thr shrapnel had torn through his right leg from just above the knee down to his ankle, and a good portion of his right side. But the worst was the leg, which had been subsequently amputated at mid calf, leaving him down a rather important limb. He did have scarring down his right side too but that wasn't so bad. He wasn't vain enough to give two shits when he already had scars. But the leg? Yeah, that was a bit of a blow to his ego. He might not be a peacock strutting around like he was God's gift to this earth but he'd like to think himself handsome. Now? Well it was hard to fuck a leg down honestly. Even with a prosthetic it just wasn't easy to do. Or maybe he just hadn't gotten the hang of it. Not that he'd been doing a lot of fucking so far in his recovery but still! He was a guy and there were some attractive people around who he had chatted up... not that anything more than a bit of fumbling fun had come of it. No one wanted someone struggling with a new injury, PTSD, and addicted to their pain meds. Not that he was all that welcoming either, having so far kept people at arms length because he didn't want them finding out all that shit. He much preferred they see him as the jovial guy bouncing back and learning to walk all proper like again.

It had gotten bad enough that he was somewhat glad he was on medical leave from the military, allowing him to wallow to his hearts content. Or he would have if his friends hadn't shown up to pull him out of his own misery and forced him into the company of others. In particular the ever growing it seemed Quiller clan. He had grown up with them actually and had seen the next generation come about. And he'd been there in and out of their lives, even saving Eros from an gas line explosion once. But he'd been away more often, his work consuming him. So it seemed the older Quiller generation was taking this chance to get some time with an old friend and catch up on all the little events of life. Which was actually making him happier! Having something other than the pain and loss to focus on was good. And sitting at the familiar kitchen island was even better. It brought back a flood of good memories and had him smiling slightly as he chatted with the older Quiller generation.

He'd dressed casually for the visit, just a regular gray t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. He was still getting used to his prosthetic and found it easier to wear shorts over long pants. Though then people tended to stare but, well, six of one half dozen of the other. He leaned his elbows on the counter before him and laughed, wrapping fingers around a coffee mug. It was only midmorning but for the first time in a while he didn't feel tensed up or anxious, just honestly relaxed and sort of happy to be talking to his friends again.

Tag Eros Quiller

]]>

Everything in Damon's life had gone to shit and it was his own fault. He'd been thr idiot standing too close to the explosion and thus the one who had gotten his own leg taken off when his bomb went off when it wasn't supposed to. The explosion itself hadn't actually been that big but he'd just been unlucky as fuck... perhaps karma coming to bite him in the ass. Or maybe it was just bound to happen. When you worker with explosives shit happened. Though usually he was a touch wiser than to stand so fucking close to one! Then again it hadn't been supposed to go off so he could maybe be forgiven his lapse in judgment.

Whatever force had conspired to make it happen it was done. Thr shrapnel had torn through his right leg from just above the knee down to his ankle, and a good portion of his right side. But the worst was the leg, which had been subsequently amputated at mid calf, leaving him down a rather important limb. He did have scarring down his right side too but that wasn't so bad. He wasn't vain enough to give two shits when he already had scars. But the leg? Yeah, that was a bit of a blow to his ego. He might not be a peacock strutting around like he was God's gift to this earth but he'd like to think himself handsome. Now? Well it was hard to fuck a leg down honestly. Even with a prosthetic it just wasn't easy to do. Or maybe he just hadn't gotten the hang of it. Not that he'd been doing a lot of fucking so far in his recovery but still! He was a guy and there were some attractive people around who he had chatted up... not that anything more than a bit of fumbling fun had come of it. No one wanted someone struggling with a new injury, PTSD, and addicted to their pain meds. Not that he was all that welcoming either, having so far kept people at arms length because he didn't want them finding out all that shit. He much preferred they see him as the jovial guy bouncing back and learning to walk all proper like again.

It had gotten bad enough that he was somewhat glad he was on medical leave from the military, allowing him to wallow to his hearts content. Or he would have if his friends hadn't shown up to pull him out of his own misery and forced him into the company of others. In particular the ever growing it seemed Quiller clan. He had grown up with them actually and had seen the next generation come about. And he'd been there in and out of their lives, even saving Eros from an gas line explosion once. But he'd been away more often, his work consuming him. So it seemed the older Quiller generation was taking this chance to get some time with an old friend and catch up on all the little events of life. Which was actually making him happier! Having something other than the pain and loss to focus on was good. And sitting at the familiar kitchen island was even better. It brought back a flood of good memories and had him smiling slightly as he chatted with the older Quiller generation.

He'd dressed casually for the visit, just a regular gray t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. He was still getting used to his prosthetic and found it easier to wear shorts over long pants. Though then people tended to stare but, well, six of one half dozen of the other. He leaned his elbows on the counter before him and laughed, wrapping fingers around a coffee mug. It was only midmorning but for the first time in a while he didn't feel tensed up or anxious, just honestly relaxed and sort of happy to be talking to his friends again.

Tag Eros Quiller

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