Welcome to SU: Legacy, a next-gen Supernatural RP that takes place in the year 2040. The Men of Letters has expanded to include three base locations across the continental US. Angels and demons have gone mostly dormant but there are still supernatural evils lurking in the shadows. The legacies could use your help. Are you in?
Giving credit where credit is due. A big thank you to all the coders at PBS and various resource sites for any codes, plug-ins and templates.
Thanks to Nick @ Fidelius for the fabulous mini-profile. Everything else was created by our own staff. If we missed someone please let us know.
We don't own Supernatural, we just enjoy it's awesomeness. Thanks Eric Kripke for creating it, all the writers/producers for putting out a great show and the CW for keeping it on the air for almost 10 years now!
You know that it would be untrue You know that I would be a liar If I was to say to you Girl, we couldn't get much higher Come on baby, light my fire Come on baby, light my fire Try to set the night on fire
The time to hesitate is through No time to wallow in the mire Try now we can only lose And our love become a funeral pyre Come on baby, light my fire Come on baby, light my fire Try to set the night on fire, yeah
She'd been working when the world had gone to Hell...literally.. to Hell. At first it had been rowdy customers but then the rowdiness turned ugly. There was a feeling in the air that was different from the normal, drunken rowdiness. It was like an electrical current. Then people started whipping out knives, biting other people. It wasn't just the customers either. It was the dancers, the bouncers, even the bartender. Everyone just seemed to simultaneously loose their marbles at once.
Shelby had gotten the hell outta Dodge when she saw some of the people's eyes turn black. Not a black eye...but solid black with no iris, like their pupils suddenly took over their eyes and left gaping holes in their heads. She'd burned one of them, when it had grabbed for her ankle. She heard his screams as she fled backstage and fought her way through the fighting dancers and grabbed somethings. They weren't even all her things. But the jacket was hers and it had her keys. That's all that mattered.
It was no better outside. People rioting and looting and attacking. It was when she found herself surrounded that her powers started to flare up, the air shimmering with heat waves as she got more and more freaked out and as they closed in on her there was a huge wash of energy as she screamed and threw her hands up over her head. The people around her burst into flames as she huddled there, the heat and stench and screams washing over her.
It hadn't been the first time she'd killed with her powers but it certainly was the first time she'd used her powers so reflexively since then. Now....now it's another story. Now it's a matter of survival. The people that had been infected, the Croats as she came to learn they were called, were everywhere. So far she seemed to be immune. Whether it was her amplified body heat or just some twist of fate she had no idea. She'd been bitten, had their blood mix with hers but she still hadn't gotten ill. Immune,
Didn't make life any easier. She still wasn't sure of the whole immunity thing. She might have been lucky and that was it for now. Hadn't found any survivors like her yet and she was getting tired of running, tired of hiding.
Crouching behind the wall, looking at the space between her car and herself, looking at the crowd of Croats sniffing, looking for her, smelling her, she tried to estimate if she could make it or not. She was hungry, thirsty, and in serious need of some sleep. Running on empty.
"The whole damn world is crumbling around our ears and here I am in the middle of BFE instead of some tropical island." Shelby complains quietly to herself. Pushing herself off the wall she'd been leaning on, her black leather jacket blending in with the shadows, she starts to run. Her legs pump fast, the heavy combat boots not slowing her down one bit. Gone are her glitzy costumes, no more spiked heels and G-strings. The ratty old t-shirt she wears has seen better days and was made for someone a couple sizes bigger than her.The jeans have more holes than is fashionable, the knees ripped out. The fingerless gloves have a whole lot more to do with keeping her from freezing them off in the cold nights.
Making it halfway across before they spot her, her legs pump hard, surging adrenaline through her veins, looking over her shoulder as she runs. "Gotta move.. gotta move." she repeats to herself, even as she hears gun shots in the near distance, trying to coach herself through it, hoping this isn't her Rio Bravo. But as she nears about twenty feet from her car a rope is pulled tight, catching her in the stomach and causing her to fall head over heels as a string of colorful explicatives leave her lips. Scrambling to her knees and hands she looks up, closing her eyes and murmuring over and over "No.. don't make me do this.. I don't wanna." But as the Croats near her, her eyes open wide and the air heats around her.
"I don't wanna do this....please." she says pleadingly, tears shimmering in her brown eyes, her hair beginning to drift in lazy tendrils around her face, dancing on the heated air around her.