Welcome to Moon Bound, an original supernatural RPG set in the fictional town of Thunder Cove, Washington.
Its early winter 2013, and the snow is already getting deep in the small coastal town of Thunder Cove. Things in this picturesque tourist town aren't exactly what they seem. Nothing in the world is what it seemed anymore, its as if the closer the world came to that fateful day on the Mayan calendar, the more the supernatural creatures of the world woke up and made their presence known. The fae are walking among us now, as are the old spirit guides and warriors of old Native American lore. The werewolf, vampire, and skinwalker populations have all taken a sudden rise, and the witches of old who had thought their powers lost to them have suddenly found themselves able to do magic again. The world hasn't ended, but its changing. Some say for the better, some say for the worst. In Thunder Cove, the population is split in half knowing that their town is a supernatural hot spot can make things difficult-- especially when the normal members of the population are part of the food chain.
Graphics, skin and plot by Ara. All character profiles, threads, and plots credited to the members of Moon Bound. Sidebar by Brook (never look back.) of RCR, RGU, & Blank Pages
It was as close to not-cold as it was likely going to get in a Washington winter. Having been mostly stuck indoors for the past week, Chelsea was itching to just get out and go. Somewhere. Anywhere.
She hadn't had much chance to explore when she first moved to Thunder Cove last fall. Things had been hectic with finding a job and finding a place to live. Then there was settling in, figuring out where the necessities were (grocery store, gas station, REI). By the time she'd finally started to figure out her new home, the holidays arrived, bringing crazy, crazy, and more crazy. January was the first time that she was actually able to feel bored and trapped.
Fortunately, the abnormally warm day was a breath of fresh air (no pun intended), and she could actually go outside without freezing in ten minutes or less. Chelsea was determined to make the best of it. Most everything seemed to be going well. Her car actually started (a miracle in and of itself), she was able to procure a trail map and locate the trail head, and she had even been able to locate her hiking boots.
She knew it wasn't the greatest idea to go hiking alone, but there was a part of her that thought maybe - maybe - if she got far enough into the forest, she could duck off the trail and escape. Just for thirty minutes. Of course, she wasn't going to hold her breath on that one. It was the first warm (by comparison) day in weeks. Everyone else wanted to take advantage of it.
Chelsea climbed from her beat up car, counting four other vehicles parked along the road by the trail head. No, she most definitely wouldn't be able to find an escape today. Still, a hike was better than nothing. Slinging her day pack over her shoulders, Chelsea started down the well worn trail, taking care to follow the markers. While she had a map, she wasn't familiar with this forest and getting lost would not be a good way to start her afternoon.
In the end, Chelsea wasn't sure what possessed her to get up before the dawn in the dead of winter. When she went to sleep the night before, she'd gotten it in her head that it would be a rather brilliant day the following day. This thought was quickly followed by the thought that she needed to start it right, which somehow led to the decision that what she really needed to do was go to the beach and cycle through her poomsays - starting all the way back at the beginning with gi-bone hyung as the sun rose over the ocean.
When she tried to actually accomplish the goal earlier in the morning, she'd found that it was bitterly cold (shoes would be a must, which really didn't work too well for forms), that she wasn't quite sure how to get to the cove (a more-than-slight crimp in the plan), and that the sun actually set over the water (the coast was on the west side of this state - hence west coast). In the end, all that really happened was that she got up early.
Since she was already up, she decided she could at least go see the water in the early morning at the harbor. Fortunately, she knew where the harbor was and the coffee shop overlooking the water was open.
And they served hot chocolate - real hot chocolate - the type with whipped cream and sprinkles that you know you shouldn't have but just absolutely cannot say no to.
Not that she knew anything about that. Nope. Nothing at all.
Nursing her hot chocolate, Chelsea began to meander up and down the docks, pausing to look at this or that. A boat rental sign caught her eye, and she paused to peruse the fairs that were charged in warmer weather. At another place, she stopped to watch a bird perch on the top of a wooden post. She took another sip of her hot chocolate and turned her attention to the fishing boats. Dad and Rufus always enjoyed fishing, though they tended to go stand in a mountain stream or drift silently across a pond in a rowboat instead of climbing aboard one of the large (at least to her) boats in the harbor.
[dohtml]<div align="center"> <div style="background-image:url('http://i55.tinypic.com/24pmfsm.jpg'); padding:8px 8px 0px 8px;width:310px;"> <div style="background-image:url('http://i52.tinypic.com/n48p44.jpg'); padding:5px; color:#151515; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; color:#000;"> <img src="http://i.ebayimg.com/t/Pantech-Hotshot-8992-Red-Flower-White-Hard-Case-Phone-Cover-/00/s/MzUwWDM1MA==/$%28KGrHqV,!oEE63WY-o7sBO6VOR7gdQ~~60_35.JPG" alt=""><br> <div style="padding:2px; background-image:url('http://i54.tinypic.com/2jzmnt.jpg'); color:#61626b; font-variant: small-caps; font-size:20px;text-align:center;"> Chelsea E. McIntire </div><p> Voicemail<Br> Hello. You've reached Chelsea McIntire at 828-555-5309. If you are calling to reschedule a lesson, please call the doejahng at 555-9281. All other callers, please leave your name, telephone number, and reason for calling after the beep. I will get back to you as soon as possible.
OOC - Chelsea's cell number is given to friends and is also available through her work. Her phone is a Pantech hotshot that is enabled to receive texts, picture/video messaging, and email in addition to phone calls.
As a general rule, she avoided bars. Bars were loud and full of drunks. Chelsea was not a fan of either loud or drunks. Combine them together, and it was recipe for a headache. Her typical day, however, did not normally include all the frustrations she’d experienced over the past fourteen hours. Chelsea wasn’t quite sure which moment of her day was the worst. There was the mother who had yelled at her because she wouldn’t recommend a kid for testing (he still hadn’t learned all the required skills). There was the teenage boy who, despite having the stomach flu, thought he was able to take a sparring class (it ended with her sanitizing the mats). There was her brother, who had called to bemoan how his girlfriend cheated on him (for the third time; why did he keep taking her back?). And there was the fact that she really, really wanted to go out of town this weekend but her car was broken (and there was no hope of getting it fixed until her next paycheck). Chelsea decided that she had earned a drink. Unfortunately, when she opened her refrigerator, she found a distinct lack of alcohol.
Normally, when faced with such a situation, she would just go to bed. It had been a really trying day, though, and she very much wanted that drink, which was why she found herself standing outside the town’s only true bar thirty minutes later. The Wolves Den. Chelsea tilted her head to the side, studying the bar’s sign for a moment and wondering where the name came from. She forced the thought from her mind. Trying to figure out why someone named a bar was often a futile exercise. She pushed the door open and made her way inside. For a Thursday night, the crowd was about what she expected. Not too large, but not as small as she’d expect to find on a Tuesday. Dropping her bag on the bar in front of her, Chelsea climbed onto a stool and ordered a Captain & Diet Coke before training her eyes on one of the television monitors. Back home at this time of year, all the televisions in the bars would be playing ACC basketball – State, Wake, UNC, and Duke. Out here, the team names were all unfamiliar. A small pang of homesickness settled around her as she watched the monitor.
Her drink arrived a few minutes later, interrupting her contemplation about sports teams she didn’t recognize. Chelsea smiled, tipped the bar tender heavily, and took a long drink from her glass. Shutting her eyes, She felt her muscles start to relax. It really had been a hellish day. She opened her eyes once again, twisting in her seat to take in the bar. It really wasn’t anywhere near as bad as she’d expected. From the looks of it, the bar also hosted a stage and a dance floor. Maybe she’d swing by some weekend and see what the local music scene was like, provided it didn’t get too crowded. Chelsea reclined back against the bar and settled down to people watch as she nursed her drink.