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Post by Ripley Maddox on Jan 29, 2017 6:56:57 GMT
Hereeee's Ripley!!
Murder
Painting
The best combination of things!~
Ripley stood before the canvas he’d erected, one hand clutching a paint brush and a wooden palette in the other. He tapped the end of his brush against his bottom lip as he considered his newest piece. It was coming along nicely, he thought. It depicted a woman, short hair falling just below her neckline, a length of leather frolicking in circles about her slight frame. The details were so great, every line made with such precision, that it appeared as though the painting could spring to life at any moment and flog the viewer with that cruel whip of hers. Truly, it was something that would have no difficulty finding a place in any gallery.
The “Mad Dog” moved away from his painting to pace out his thoughts behind the couch where a family of four sat in complete ignorance of the horror taking place behind them. He moved around to the side to the front of the couch and planted himself before the holographic display of their television. “I just can’t figure it out. It feels as though there’s something missing from my fresco, but I cannot for the life of me decide what it is.” He planted himself on the coffee table behind him and set his palette and brush to either side.
“Tell me, do any of you know?” No answer was forthcoming from the four lifeless corpses. The dozens of stab wounds and burns covered the bodies in oddly symmetrical ways that formed anything from crosses to cutesy little rabbits. Their hair had been shaved and their eyes plucked and their limbs devoured. And worst was the glistening muscle that showed through where the skin had been savagely torn from their flesh to form the canvas upon which Ripley painted his masterpiece.
“Not very talkative, I see...” |
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PLAYED BY dc
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Post by Wrentham on Feb 1, 2017 23:10:37 GMT
After having been enlightened of the bordeom-quenching activity of hanging out around killers, Wren had been looking around for more of them that caught his attention. So far, though, out of the many he’d come across, there was only one that had truly managed to capture the ghost’s attention... And after having followed him around like a lost puppy, Wrentham couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone else out there that could give him a more potent thrill (if that were even possible). To be honest, it was as if he were some drug addict that kept searching for a higher high. It was that certain feeling that had led him to this place, where he had sprawled himself out on a nearby dining table in his unseen spiritual form, watching on as this maniac of a man slaughtered his victims in what seemed like it was in the name of art. The ghost wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it all; not from a moral standpoint, but as a thrill-seeker. Not being someone that was at all interested in art, Wren somehow “disconnected” from what was happening in front of him; he couldn’t relate. As some sort of an attempt to make the whole scenario a little livelier, Wren rolled off the tabletop so that he could fall onto a nearby plant in order to possess it. Although Wren was no whiz when it came to plants, this particular one grew on a narrow trellis and conveniently had a number of thick, strong vines. To be completely honest, the ghost wasn’t quite sure how it had actually grown so well indoors, but being the type of person that he was, he didn’t think twice about it. Upon possessing its body, one of the longest vines unravelled itself from the wooden frame that it grew on in order to reach out and wrap itself around the ankle of one of the corpses that Ripley was working with in order to drag it out of its current position and over to a nearby window that it was obviously about to fling the corpse out of. |
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Post by Ripley Maddox on Feb 4, 2017 0:10:54 GMT
Hereeee's Ripley!!
I'm Craaaaazy!~
317
I could just gobble you up!~
At first, Ripley had thought that he was imagining the vine slithering across the floor in his direction general direction like a leafy snake. The red mist was following through him now and his grip of reality was… tentative at best. His suspicion turned to confusion when the vine wrapped around the youngest child’s ankle and began dragging the corpse away, prompting a tilt of the head from Ripley. He turned his head slowly to follow the corpse along its intended path until he saw where it meant to go. Then, he stood and withdrew his sword from where it rested in its scabbard. The body was skewered a moment later as Ripley plunged his blade into the dead boy’s chest in a single solid motion.
He leveled a stare at the offending plant. It had become the home for a rather sophisticated society of erect ant people that seemed intent on tossing the body through the nearby window for some odd reason. Did they want their society to come under siege by the police that would surely be called to investigate the fact that bodies were falling from the sky? Noble as the appeared, he doubted that the ants would survive long against the influence of fire and poisonous gas. Even if they could, the termite slaves would be better suited to building the great the grand temples to Philip and Nevyne that mingled amid the vines.
“You can’t throw that out yet,” Ripley said incredulously. “It’s a horrible thing, wasting food like that.” He pinned one of the boy’s arms beneath his boot and knelt to grip his wrist. A savage pull and a sickening squelch later and the forearm was detached from the rest of the body, spraying the floor and a portion of the walls in arterial red. Ripley pulled the limb up to his lips and bit deep into the succulent flesh. |
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PLAYED BY OOC NAME
PLAYED BY dc
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Post by Wrentham on Feb 7, 2017 4:53:21 GMT
Although Wren had managed to illicit some sort of action out of the man by using the plant as he had, it was rather anticlimactic. The ghost had been hoping for a little more panic... or a little more something. The nonchalance with which Ripley had handled the situation was enough for the apparition to inwardly frown in some sort of disappointment; sure, the idea of the man’s odd nature was somewhat entertaining, but Wren couldn’t help but want to somehow leave an unsightly, metaphorical stain where he was beginning to realize that he couldn’t. Still inhabiting the plant, Wren unraveled himself from around the corpse’s ankle in order to dip the tip of his vine into the surrounding blood, using it as ink to slowly and steadily write out a message on the floor below: HE’D LOOK PRETTIER SPLATTERED ON PAVEMENT.Wren couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he wrote the words, unable to take any of this situation seriously in the the least. The words written on the ground weren’t actually ones that came from the ghost’s opinion, but merely used as a tool to attempt to appeal to a sense of aesthetic that the artist may or may not’ve had... Either way, Wren just wanted Ripley to create liabilities for himself. Whether the man actually wriggled his way out of them, Wren didn’t particularly care... Tragedy or comedy, every story needed its climax to cause the audience to be on the edge of their seats. This was the same; he just wanted some quality entertainment to pass his time. |
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