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Dead Before Daylight is an Alternate Universe Urban Fantasy role play in a world where supernatural creatures and humans exist side by side – at least, some of them do. Creatures like witches, pixies and satyrs live and work as openly as any human. They commonly hold positions of power in government and are afforded every right and protection.

Other creatures are not so lucky. Those believed threats to humankind and other benign creatures are still persecuted and oppressed. Beings like vampires and werewolves are still forced to live largely in hiding, as they are not afforded the protections of law.

Such blacklisted creatures have created a haven for themselves in the small city of Dawnbreak; but their sanctuary is becoming increasingly threatened by the arrival of outsiders. In the meantime a menacing power is lurking in the forests and increasingly beginning to threaten the town as people begin to go missing, and mangled bodies are beginning to be discovered in and around the woodlands.


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 tennessee whiskey got me drinking in heaven [Completed]
He blinked bleary eyes open slowly, looking around. His vision was blurred with crimson and he groaned, trying to lift a hand to rub his temple. How long had he been out and more to the point, where was he? He struggled against his restraints and winced as the restraints bit into his flesh. Everything hurt and there was a masked face that loomed over him. His head tilted, as he tried to focus his vision, but he was, instead, rewarded with what he could only assume was laughter.

"Prince Charming's awake." One of the men whispered, nudging one of his companions and laughing. The realization made his stomach sink. The last thing he remembered was trying to be a good Samaritan. If he ever got out of here, he'd make damned sure to never do that shit again... Beyond that, he could vaguely recall dropping Seth off at home, but everything was fuzzy. He couldn't quite recall the sequence of events and trying to remember only made his head hurt worse. What the fuck had he stepped in?

He felt nauseous and before long, he was struggling once more against his restraints. His tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth and as he struggled to make sure everything was intact, he could only sigh in frustration. "Fuck me..." He mumbled, only to garner harsh laughter and a swift kick in the ribs that forced the air from his lungs. There was a sickening crack and still, he didn't cry out. He could - would - survive. He had to, for Harper's sake.

If he died now, he'd never hear the end of it. Coughing up a gob of blood, he turned his steely gaze upon one of his assailants. "What the fuck do you want from me? Who sent you?" He snarled, dark hues flashing dangerously. "That would be me, sweetie." A demure voice purred from the darkness and like that, his stomach sank yet again. What in the fuck...? He had known his wife was psycho, but this... this was a whole new low. "Let me go, O... Let's talk about this..." He said quietly, trying to figure out where in the fuck his wife was in that godforsaken room.

There was a short burst of harsh laughter, followed by the sound of heels clicking out of the room. He knew then that the chances of him getting out of this in one piece were practically nil but regardless, he tried valiantly to hold out, through the beatings and the various torture methods. Every one of his pain receptors was practically screaming at him to give in, but he ignored them, for the most part. All he could hope for was that somebody would take note of his absence and actually give a damn. His consciousness started to ebb and even though the pain was getting increasingly worse, he still didn't cry out. He didn't give them even the smallest hint of satisfaction, but he could feel himself slipping, slowly but surely.

Ice cold water was dumped on him and he came to with a start, only to be greeted with more harsh laughter. "Oh, no, sweetie... You can't fall asleep yet." Ophelia purred in his ear, biting down gently on his earlobe. "We've got so much more in store for you yet." With that, she snapped her fingers and the men at her command chained him to the floor. Two of the men approached, one with a rat held at arm's length and the other with a metallic container. Once again, he tried to fight his way free, but his muscles felt heavy and overall, he was just exhausted... Perhaps, more exhausted than he'd ever been with three toddlers and a newborn.

As the rat was trapped beneath the metallic container, he shuddered. Why had they needed to use such a foul creature against his skin? He knew what was coming next and he dreaded it. The sound of the rat's squeaking reached his ears and he tried desperately to block out what he knew was coming next. A third fellow started heating up the container and within the span of a few minutes, he could hear - feel - the rat starting to chew its way through his flesh. The smell of blood hit him shortly after the pain started to register. His wife started to caress his face. "Just think, sweetie, it'll all be over soon... And, then, you won't have to put a brave face on anymore nor will you have to worry about where you belong..." She whispered, planting a kiss on his bloodstained lips. Did this bitch ever shut the fuck up?


Red found Logan's prized truck abandoned in a ditch along a rural road some miles out of town. There was a county tag on it already, declaring it to be towed. He pulled it off as he walked around the vehicle, looking for any sort of clue. It was obvious Logan hadn't left the truck there - he'd never do his baby like that. He didn't even have any good reason to be out this way.

Seemed clear to Red that someone else had driven it out here and left it as a distraction.

He finally came around to the door to open it. It was unlocked, another sure sign that his son hadn't left it here of his own accord. Red spent a few minutes looking. He found Logan's now long dead phone under the passenger's seat, found a few legal documents and around the driver's seat a few droplet stains that looked and smelled like blood - must have been, uptight as his son was about keeping that truck pristine.

Red pushed a heavy breath through his nose as he stood there in the doorway. Finally he reached for the dash cam to pull it down. He had ribbed Logan a little about buying it, asking what his son expected to record driving the same routes in the same small town all the damn time; but maybe he'd find something useful in it.

Logan Black

While Logan was undergoing what must have been the most excruciating pain he'd ever gone through, not counting the pain that came with the transformations, he counted backward from ten in his head. If he could get through just ten seconds, he might be okay. The mindless counting also gave him momentary respite from the fact a rat was currently trying to burrow into his intestines. His eyes were glazed over, most likely due to said pain, and his chest was rising and falling with shallow breaths. He figured the calmer he stayed, the calmer that damned foul beast would be... Of course, he was wrong in that line of thinking but all of his brain power was currently tasked with not making a sound and trying to count backward from ten over and over again with interruption.

The smell of blood was getting stronger as the seconds ticked into minutes and so on and so forth. Death would have been a welcome change in comparison. He struggled somewhat feebly against his shackles, which only seemed to agitate the rat. If his wife or this rat didn't kill him first, he was sure Harper would finish the job, considering she probably thought he'd skipped out on the luncheon she'd set up for them. Death by O and the rat or death by Harper? He wondered, with some degree of morbidity, which would have been better. At least, if nothing else, his sister was a woman of few words. She rather enjoyed settling matters with her fists and he admired that about her... In a manner of speaking.

He tried to turn his head, glazed eyes peering tiredly over at the wall, rather than the metal bucket that loomed over him. It was also his pathetic attempt to get his lips far, far away from Ophelia. He had always known she wasn't happy with his inability to keep it in his pants but this... this was pushing it too far.

He retreated into the confines of his mind, where he continued to continuously count backward from ten. It was easier than facing the apparent inevitability of his own demise. He drew in breath after the other, practically willing his heart to stop but each time he thought he might come close to getting his wish, his lungs would pull greedily for the stagnant air that hung in the room. If he didn't give into his urge to breathe, his wife opened his mouth by plugging his nose until he got dizzy and had no choice but to open his mouth.

Maybe he'd even been yelling without his knowledge... Anything was possible at that point. He felt like his body wasn't his own and that sensation, alone, gnawed at his brain. He hated being powerless. Considering all that he'd done with his life and hadn't done with it, combined with his wife's psychological warfare, had him wondering if he'd even be missed. He wasn't the easiest person to get along with, not by a long shot, but... He did try to be decent when it counted. He struggled to recall the words Seth had spoken but even his mind wasn't cooperating with what he wanted. His own conscious thoughts felt alien in his head and he wasn't sure who or what to believe anymore, outside of the all-encompassing agony that radiated from his abdomen. His chest also ached, probably from that nitwit kicking him... But then again, he'd been hurting when he'd woken up, which either meant they'd had their fun while he was passed out or they had their fun while he was conscious and by some miracle, he didn't remember.

He started to mumble incoherently, just before darkness claimed him once more. It didn't last long. His wife, with a wicked giggle, proceeded to blast the most atrocious song directly into his ear. She intended to break him, body and mind. The sleep deprivation was starting to take its toll and as much as he wanted to deny it, he was utterly helpless to stop her and her band of goons or even save himself.


The dash cam didn't have much of use, really, beyond affirming that Logan was in danger from some kind of threat. Red watched the reel several times over before a flicker of out of place color finally caught his attention. it was after focusing on that that he recognized his son's estranged wife standing off, captured only in a fleeting section of frames.

Everything after that was just driving, until the truck pulled off to the side of the road and the bastard that had been driving jumped out and into another car that drove away - straight ahead, foolishly.

Red ran both the plate number and what of Ophelia's information he could remember through the data base. He found her on merit of a recent traffic citation, the plate came up registered to a name Red didn't know. Both pieces of information led to Corinth.

There wasn't much else to go on. All the same, he called up Seth and told him to come up to the city for a meet - he didn't have anyway of knowing what sort of creatures the woman had aiding her. They met up in the Corinth Projects near the location of Ophelia's citation. Red had made use of his new girlfriend for what came next, using one of her employees to check the surveillance feeds in the area. They had seen the same car and plates in the area and narrowed down an approximation of where it had gone.

Now they just needed to find the exact location.

Logan Black

One of Ophelia's scouts tried to text her about the impending danger, hopefully before being found out. With his mission complete, he slipped back into the cover of darkness to return to his cohorts in one of the less than desirable buildings, the very building Logan was being tortured in. Ophelia sighed as she straightened, squinting down at Logan. "Seems somebody's here for you, after all... Would you like to die quickly, or should we take you elsewhere and play some more?" She cooed, holding a knife to his throat while eyeing the door her goon had come through.

They were, effectively, her last line of defense, so to speak. Regardless of that fact, she took great pleasure in digging the knife into Logan's flesh. There was the smallest trickle of blood, followed by quiet whimpering that was muffled by her hand over his mouth. He hadn't even registered that there was someone coming for him by his wife's own account. All he knew in those moments was that something was amiss and his life hung precariously in the balance.

The goons were trembling, however, and all seemed torn between staying and getting the hell out of Dodge while the going was good. Nothing had ever been mentioned about people coming to look for the pathetic scrap of flesh that was currently shackled to the floor. In fact, quite the opposite had been mentioned. They'd been told they could have their fun with him after she'd exacted her pound of flesh.

None of this was going according to plan and the blood of a werewolf hardly seemed worth the risk that it was imposing. Logan bit down on his wife's hand hard enough that it caused her to cry out. The knife slipped from her hand in such a fashion that it cut both of them but thankfully, the wound on his neck was shallow in comparison to his stomach. "Fucking asshole!" She shrieked at the top of her lungs, perhaps without thinking, as she scrambled to reach the knife. At least, if he died here and now, there would be no question about who had killed him, provided they left his body after doing whatever the hell it was they wanted to do with him.


It was the shriek that rose from one of the nearby warehouses that led the wolves in. Seth draw his side arm while his father opted for beginning to shift - Red was a large man and an absolute terror when fully shifted. Even seasoned hunters were often paused by his sheer size.

Seth moved on ahead while his father completed the transformation. He trotted towards a door in the side of the building, pausing briefly to listen to the commotion inside before he kicked it open. The door flew inwards and off the hinges, clattering loudly against concrete.

Logan Black

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... Logan chanted the words in his head as he vaguely registered the door flying off the hinges. The goonies tried to scatter but perhaps, to no avail. Ophelia, meanwhile, had retrieved the knife and the stupid bitch, in a last ditch effort, threw it at the shifted wolf. Logan, on the other hand, was chained to the floor, which meant he probably wasn't going anywhere.. At least, not on his own. Decidedly, he did not like the smell of his own blood. It was unsettling, among other things. He tried once more to fight the chains that bound him to the floor but didn't get anywhere. He hadn't even managed to upset the balance of that dastardly bucket, and he knew without looking that the rat was doing its job.


With everyone involved scattering in whatever direction they thought they could escape to, Ophelia made a fatal mistake in hurling the knife. Red had been focused on one of the larger men involved when the object hit him. The blade did strike flesh, partially embedding in the wolf's chest before clattering to the ground - effectively doing nothing more than further pissing off an already furious werewolf.

Red's massive head swung towards the woman, fangs baring in a avalanchous snarl that seemed to shake the tin walls of the structure. There was a good fifty feet between Red and Ophelia but the wolf covered the distance in two powerful leaps. She turned to run to no avail; the werewolf hit her squarely between the shoulders and sent her pitching to the ground.

In the meantime Seth took a few shots at the fleeing men, but ultimately neglected them in favor of running to free his brother. He shoved the bucket off Logan's abdomen, drawing back when he saw the large rat buried past its shoulders in a gaping, bloody wound, "Fucking hell," Seth voiced his shock at the sight, momentarily frozen by it before instinct kicked back in and he knelt to start trying to get him free - but the key to the shackles was on the screaming woman struggling beneath Red.

Logan Black

Logan groaned quietly and closed his glazed eyes, too tired to keep them open any longer. "About time you got here..." He murmured, trying to fight the encroaching darkness, and failing miserably. He was ready for the reaper to take him to oblivion and it was particularly comforting that the reaper had taken the form of his brother. It would certainly make the transition easier, if nothing else.

With the goonies having disappeared and Ophelia pinned to the ground, screaming bloody murder and trying in vain to get the hell away from Red, Logan was drifting further and further towards a state of unconsciousness. Ophelia's hair was matted with blood, courtesy of her head bouncing off the concrete floor. Apart from that, at least for the moment, she was no worse for wear.

Logan had always told her she was hardheaded...


Ophelia was fortunate in the sense that Red didn't take any particular joy in tormenting victims; and likewise, there was no other party present that needed an example made to them. As she screamed and tried to get away the werewolf flexed his claws into her back to hold her in place and gripped the back of her neck in his massive jaws before shaking her like a rag doll with the intent of severing her spine.

In the mean time Seth had dropped beside his brother and steeled himself to reach out and catch hold of the vermin tearing its way through him. He gritted his teeth and dragged the creature back as he squeaked and shrieked. There was a sickening sound that accompanied it being dragged free, and as soon as it was out Seth cursed and hurled the thing away before turning to put pressure on the wound.

Logan Black

Ophelia finally went limp but not before the key fell from her pocket. Logan, too, had gone limp but for an entirely different reason. Logan was, in a manner of speaking, dead to the world around him. He was oblivious to the fact his psycho cunt of a wife was dead or even the fact his father and brother were here to save his ass from the fiery deep. His chest, by that point, was hardly moving up and down and his breathing was shallower than before. He was vaguely aware of pressure on his abdomen but unlike what he'd felt before, this wasn't nearly enough to aggravate his pain receptors nor was it entirely uncomfortable.


When Ophelia went limp in his jaws Red thrashed his head a few more times for good measure before throwing the body aside. By then her accomplices had long fled. The werewolf crouched in place for a few moments, contemplating whether or not to pursue. In the end he decided it would be much wiser to collect Logan and get the hell out of there.

"Get the key and get him free," Red ordered his son as he turned to stalk back out of the warehouse. He went to find his clothes, shifting back into his human guise and getting himself dressed again before jogging to the car and pulling it around closer to the warehouse.

Seth scrambled to do as he was told. He found the key and returned to Logan's side, fumbling to unlock the manacles. It took him a while to do it, the slick blood on his hands causing him to drop it several times in the process. Finally he got the last one off and grabbed hold of Logan's wrists, dragging his dead weight up and pulling him over his shoulder.

For a rather lanky looking guy, Logan was impressively heavy. Seth grunted as he heaved him up and started to carry him out. Red was waiting when they got out the door, helping to get the unconscious wolf into the back of the car. Once he was loaded up Seth went around the other side and got into the back with his brother, lifting his upper half to drape him over his lap so he could get back to staunching the flow of blood from the nasty wound, "We gotta get him to a motel or something," Seth muttered as Red started the engine to drive away, "he's pretty fucked up."

Logan Black

Logan let loose a breathy, little sigh, as his eyes opened. "... For Hell, this is exactly like home..." He said with a weak chuckle, trying to move his aching limbs unsuccessfully. He wasn't going to be an easy person to care for and Harper would, no doubt, have her hands full. He started to get the nagging suspicion, however, that he wasn't quite dead just yet. "Swing your fucking scythe or whatever bullshit you're going to do and get it the hell over with..." He grumbled sleepily.

"You aren't dead yet you stupid bastard," Seth answered, pressing his hand down sharply over the wound to give Logan a little extra jolt of pain - he didn't know whether it would put his brother fully out, or wake him up a little more. Right then it didn't matter.

Logan Black

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