Nico Chance, the Troublemaker

@nico-chance-hellraiser

Jed gives a sharp cackle. He’s loving the weakness coming from Nico’s lungs, oh this poor, poor survivor. This little newb of a runner. He’s gonna learn fast, faster than he managed to piss the killer off. It would be an impressive thing to watch, as Jed had lost patience with this one as soon as he’d started a chase.

“Christ, blazer! Well, please by all means, allow me to teach you a thing or two. Class is in session for you, knife-block.” He’s too giddy, hyped up by rage and adrenaline and god damn it does he want to see this kid cry. To just bawl in pain, to thrash and kick and scream for mercy. This is going to be way too much fun, and Jed’s loving it. 

Shifting to pin Nico down was easy, though unfortunately they’re on a bit of a time limit. Survivors can only bleed for so long before the Entity gets impatient and whisks them away. Party-crashing prick. The knife is pressed  just under the boy’s right eye, Jed’s free hand grips his jaw effortlessly, “Normally I like to play a game with my toys, but only when they’ve earned it.” He pauses, chuckling with deadly intent, “You’ve earned jack shit. You’re lucky I’m even willing to help you out. You owe me big time after this lesson, blazer.” 

Hm, what kind of mark should this one get? An X? A frowny face? No, that’s too similar to one of his favorites. Nico is most certainly not Jed’s favorite. Oh! He’s figured it out. How about just a big, nasty hole in his face? That sounds perfect.

He tried to voice a reply to the part where he owed him big time, but nothing seemed to want to form despite the racing thoughts in his mind. Well, he guessed the only thing that was through his mind was ‘holy shit, I can’t escape, I’m dying’ and ‘I FUCKING HATE THIS GAME I HATE IT SO FUCKING MUCH DO IT DO IT LET ME DIE’. Except death was never an escape, and the contrast of the thoughts meant he still had a damned shard of hope somewhere.

Needless to say, Jed’s satisfaction is immense. Once this little prick is dead, he’d be in the best mood he’d been in years. 

“Try not to choke. Blood tends to do that to people.” The killer helpfully suggested, unnervingly happy about the situation. 

He leaned back a bit, tilting his head in pondering as to what to do next. Oh! Threat of mori, that was always fun. The other survivors seemed highly disturbed by Jed’s mori, two of them in particular absolutely despised it. Will this one feel the same? Only one way to find out.

A pang of nausea hit him from the sheer amount of blood. He coughed, but at the same time tried his best to swallow and not die in a very, very gross way. It’s what the killer would probably want, he thought, even as his stomach turned. Then the knife moved towards his eye. Oh God. Oh God no.

He put his other hand on the killer’s wrist and tried to push upwards, even as his breathing weakened. Even if it did anything, it would probably be such a small amount - why was he even fighting if he knew it was futile? Did he want to bleed out instead of letting this man have his fun game done? There’s no Collapse, but if he just became a limp corpse before he could - diseye him, or whatever he was planning.

The killer suddenly starts cackling softly, “Consider this a slight example of how much you’ve been a thorn in my side.” With that, he digs his blade in. Stabbing through clothes is tough, so a good amount of effort is put into getting down to flesh. Once the tip pierces, Jed shoves in. It’s not close to the heart or lungs, angling downward to avoid them. He keeps the knife still, looking the boy in the eyes.

“Now, what have we learned? Never, ever, run me or any killer around a goddamn pallet. They’ll mori you, and they’ll really mean it. Never taunt us, ‘cause they’ll mori you- and mean it. Lastly, Never Strike, why?” He asks a rhetorical question, twisting the blade within Nico’s flesh, “Because we will mori for it.”  Jed’s tone is punctual and violent. He will mori this boy as an act of mercy. Not yet, though, not yet. He’s not done with his lesson yet. 

He coughed again, trying not to swallow his own blood, the only thing he could really hear being his own pain and the killer’s voice, like some sort of twisted angel of death coming to collect his goddamn soul, and ordering him.

@nico-chance-hellraiser

Jed gives a sharp cackle. He’s loving the weakness coming from Nico’s lungs, oh this poor, poor survivor. This little newb of a runner. He’s gonna learn fast, faster than he managed to piss the killer off. It would be an impressive thing to watch, as Jed had lost patience with this one as soon as he’d started a chase.

“Christ, blazer! Well, please by all means, allow me to teach you a thing or two. Class is in session for you, knife-block.” He’s too giddy, hyped up by rage and adrenaline and god damn it does he want to see this kid cry. To just bawl in pain, to thrash and kick and scream for mercy. This is going to be way too much fun, and Jed’s loving it. 

Shifting to pin Nico down was easy, though unfortunately they’re on a bit of a time limit. Survivors can only bleed for so long before the Entity gets impatient and whisks them away. Party-crashing prick. The knife is pressed  just under the boy’s right eye, Jed’s free hand grips his jaw effortlessly, “Normally I like to play a game with my toys, but only when they’ve earned it.” He pauses, chuckling with deadly intent, “You’ve earned jack shit. You’re lucky I’m even willing to help you out. You owe me big time after this lesson, blazer.” 

Hm, what kind of mark should this one get? An X? A frowny face? No, that’s too similar to one of his favorites. Nico is most certainly not Jed’s favorite. Oh! He’s figured it out. How about just a big, nasty hole in his face? That sounds perfect.

He tried to voice a reply to the part where he owed him big time, but nothing seemed to want to form despite the racing thoughts in his mind. Well, he guessed the only thing that was through his mind was ‘holy shit, I can’t escape, I’m dying’ and ‘I FUCKING HATE THIS GAME I HATE IT SO FUCKING MUCH DO IT DO IT LET ME DIE’. Except death was never an escape, and the contrast of the thoughts meant he still had a damned shard of hope somewhere.

Needless to say, Jed’s satisfaction is immense. Once this little prick is dead, he’d be in the best mood he’d been in years. 

“Try not to choke. Blood tends to do that to people.” The killer helpfully suggested, unnervingly happy about the situation. 

He leaned back a bit, tilting his head in pondering as to what to do next. Oh! Threat of mori, that was always fun. The other survivors seemed highly disturbed by Jed’s mori, two of them in particular absolutely despised it. Will this one feel the same? Only one way to find out.

A pang of nausea hit him from the sheer amount of blood. He coughed, but at the same time tried his best to swallow and not die in a very, very gross way. It’s what the killer would probably want, he thought, even as his stomach turned. Then the knife moved towards his eye. Oh God. Oh God no.

He put his other hand on the killer’s wrist and tried to push upwards, even as his breathing weakened. Even if it did anything, it would probably be such a small amount - why was he even fighting if he knew it was futile? Did he want to bleed out instead of letting this man have his fun game done? There’s no Collapse, but if he just became a limp corpse before he could - diseye him, or whatever he was planning.

@nico-chance-hellraiser

Jed gives a sharp cackle. He’s loving the weakness coming from Nico’s lungs, oh this poor, poor survivor. This little newb of a runner. He’s gonna learn fast, faster than he managed to piss the killer off. It would be an impressive thing to watch, as Jed had lost patience with this one as soon as he’d started a chase.

“Christ, blazer! Well, please by all means, allow me to teach you a thing or two. Class is in session for you, knife-block.” He’s too giddy, hyped up by rage and adrenaline and god damn it does he want to see this kid cry. To just bawl in pain, to thrash and kick and scream for mercy. This is going to be way too much fun, and Jed’s loving it. 

Shifting to pin Nico down was easy, though unfortunately they’re on a bit of a time limit. Survivors can only bleed for so long before the Entity gets impatient and whisks them away. Party-crashing prick. The knife is pressed  just under the boy’s right eye, Jed’s free hand grips his jaw effortlessly, “Normally I like to play a game with my toys, but only when they’ve earned it.” He pauses, chuckling with deadly intent, “You’ve earned jack shit. You’re lucky I’m even willing to help you out. You owe me big time after this lesson, blazer.” 

Hm, what kind of mark should this one get? An X? A frowny face? No, that’s too similar to one of his favorites. Nico is most certainly not Jed’s favorite. Oh! He’s figured it out. How about just a big, nasty hole in his face? That sounds perfect.

He tried to voice a reply to the part where he owed him big time, but nothing seemed to want to form despite the racing thoughts in his mind. Well, he guessed the only thing that was through his mind was ‘holy shit, I can’t escape, I’m dying’ and ‘I FUCKING HATE THIS GAME I HATE IT SO FUCKING MUCH DO IT DO IT LET ME DIE’. Except death was never an escape, and the contrast of the thoughts meant he still had a damned shard of hope somewhere.

What is this?

This is a roleplaying event set up as a gala. Everyone in the realm will be given new fancy cosmetics and set out to mingle, dance, and generally have a good time at an Entity organized gala.

When will this event run for? 

It will run from the 11th of September to the 25th of September. 

How do I participate?

A post will be made at the event’s start and after that you can make rp starters, post art, or send ask that have to do with the gala. Please tag all these things with #Blood Gala 2020

Can I participate? 

If you are within the Dead by Daylight roleplaying community you can participate. Just be sure you have reblogged this post so that I can follow you.

I have further questions.

Trying to suppress a red rage was incredibly difficult, not to mention the fact that there happened to be a new survivor to the fog. New survivors always thought themselves hot shit, apparently. This one in particular was especially irritating, and had gotten Jed’s blood boiling right from the start of the Trial. 

Mori’ing the others didn’t do much to sate the godawful bloodlust that he felt, it actually made it worse. He’d killed the others an infinite number of times, he wanted this one to die. He wanted to kill this one very slowly, just to teach him a lesson on how this world works. Maybe mark him up a bit before he goes. Nothing like a good, degrading title to remind you how utterly weak you are. 

The grip Jed had on his knife was painful, he was keeping himself angry, obsessing over just how horrid the new guy was.

As he did so, crossing wires and getting parts to work - trying his best - he tried to look over his shoulders, feel anything approaching him. The guy he was against he’d never seen before, and wasn’t exactly keen on seeing him again. He wanted out, even after he’d taunted him at pallets and tried to make his life hell. There’s just 2 gens left, and if I can get them done, we’ll be golden… or, I’ll be, since my teammates were obviously killed.

Until he eventually made it to a generator. Doing a quick spin around it revealed that there was nobody here. More rage wiped the grin off his face instantly. Damn it, god fucking damn it. He kicked the generator, decreasing any progress made on it. If the new survivor had made Jed’s life hell, he was gonna do it right back.

There was only one other gen, the survivor had to be there. If not, he was hiding. A poor choice, as he’d seen survivors solo two gens and escape plenty of times, although they weren’t cursed with the wrath of Ghostface.

Crouched with his knife raised, he crept to the red highlight he saw in the near distance. A flutter of twisted glee was felt in his chest, the sounds of someone fiddling with machinery was music to his ears. Soon the brat came into view, his back turned on the killer.

He didn’t feel watched, didn’t feel in immediate danger. What he felt was a glimmer of hope as it continued to work. Enough to slightly hum to himself a tune while working on the gen, hoping it’d be masked by his own progress.

“Tough break, blazer.” He taunted as he hoisted the boy over his shoulder. Taking a quick scan around, he noticed the big gates of the exit gate not too far from where they were. Perfect, just perfect. Absolutely stunning, those gates had never made him more happy. 

He’s feeling extra cruel today, and there’s nothing like a little bit of torture at the end of Trials. This one’s earned it, though opening the gates would start the endgame collapse. Jed wanted time with this one, hours maybe. He wanted to inspect every inch of bone that lay within irritating flesh. Too bad all the others were dead, he’d parade the survivor around to let the others see just how weak he really was. 

Hauling the nuisance to the gate wasn’t much of an issue, a grim cackle was let out as he dropped the last of the knife fodder right in front of those dooming metal doors. They were closed, but that mattered not. The gate still symbolized freedom, even if it was closed. There still lied the possibility of hope, which was soon to be rung out dry from the boy.

What even was this one’s name?

He looked up at the Exit Gates before he felt a slight pain on his chest, registering as a light kick. He tried to remember the face of this Killer, anything, so that the next time - God, I hope there isn’t a next time - he encountered him, he’d know what killer it is. He’d heard the name ‘Ghostface’ or whatever whispered by the survivors.

Stepping closer, Jed puts his heel on Nico’s throat, slowly applying some pressure with each passing second. Watching these people flounder and flail was always a hoot, just an absolute treat. He hums a dark, amused hum, “You want me to let you out? Hm, well, that’s funny- Because I totally thought you really, really wanted me to skin you alive. I mean, you’ve gotta earn my mercy, blazer. You literally could not have pissed me off more. I’ve been so patient, I got rid of your friends, just so I had some playtime with you.” 

The pressure is let off, the foot is removed. He’s kneeling next to Nico now, the tip of his knife teasing the skin of his face, “Maybe I can better prepare you for the future, teach you a lesson or two about what the role of ‘runner’ entails. Us killers really aren’t too fond of it, you know.” 

“Of- of course you’re not fond-” he whimpered. He wanted to back up, run, something, but apparently fight or flight picked freeze this round. “I- It’s just what I’m good at doing. I don’t still fffucking understand the roles or whatever.” His voice cracked, and he realized his vision was blurring.

Trying to suppress a red rage was incredibly difficult, not to mention the fact that there happened to be a new survivor to the fog. New survivors always thought themselves hot shit, apparently. This one in particular was especially irritating, and had gotten Jed’s blood boiling right from the start of the Trial. 

Mori’ing the others didn’t do much to sate the godawful bloodlust that he felt, it actually made it worse. He’d killed the others an infinite number of times, he wanted this one to die. He wanted to kill this one very slowly, just to teach him a lesson on how this world works. Maybe mark him up a bit before he goes. Nothing like a good, degrading title to remind you how utterly weak you are. 

The grip Jed had on his knife was painful, he was keeping himself angry, obsessing over just how horrid the new guy was.

As he did so, crossing wires and getting parts to work - trying his best - he tried to look over his shoulders, feel anything approaching him. The guy he was against he’d never seen before, and wasn’t exactly keen on seeing him again. He wanted out, even after he’d taunted him at pallets and tried to make his life hell. There’s just 2 gens left, and if I can get them done, we’ll be golden… or, I’ll be, since my teammates were obviously killed.

Until he eventually made it to a generator. Doing a quick spin around it revealed that there was nobody here. More rage wiped the grin off his face instantly. Damn it, god fucking damn it. He kicked the generator, decreasing any progress made on it. If the new survivor had made Jed’s life hell, he was gonna do it right back.

There was only one other gen, the survivor had to be there. If not, he was hiding. A poor choice, as he’d seen survivors solo two gens and escape plenty of times, although they weren’t cursed with the wrath of Ghostface.

Crouched with his knife raised, he crept to the red highlight he saw in the near distance. A flutter of twisted glee was felt in his chest, the sounds of someone fiddling with machinery was music to his ears. Soon the brat came into view, his back turned on the killer.

He didn’t feel watched, didn’t feel in immediate danger. What he felt was a glimmer of hope as it continued to work. Enough to slightly hum to himself a tune while working on the gen, hoping it’d be masked by his own progress.

“Tough break, blazer.” He taunted as he hoisted the boy over his shoulder. Taking a quick scan around, he noticed the big gates of the exit gate not too far from where they were. Perfect, just perfect. Absolutely stunning, those gates had never made him more happy. 

He’s feeling extra cruel today, and there’s nothing like a little bit of torture at the end of Trials. This one’s earned it, though opening the gates would start the endgame collapse. Jed wanted time with this one, hours maybe. He wanted to inspect every inch of bone that lay within irritating flesh. Too bad all the others were dead, he’d parade the survivor around to let the others see just how weak he really was. 

Hauling the nuisance to the gate wasn’t much of an issue, a grim cackle was let out as he dropped the last of the knife fodder right in front of those dooming metal doors. They were closed, but that mattered not. The gate still symbolized freedom, even if it was closed. There still lied the possibility of hope, which was soon to be rung out dry from the boy.

What even was this one’s name?

He looked up at the Exit Gates before he felt a slight pain on his chest, registering as a light kick. He tried to remember the face of this Killer, anything, so that the next time - God, I hope there isn’t a next time - he encountered him, he’d know what killer it is. He’d heard the name ‘Ghostface’ or whatever whispered by the survivors.

Trying to suppress a red rage was incredibly difficult, not to mention the fact that there happened to be a new survivor to the fog. New survivors always thought themselves hot shit, apparently. This one in particular was especially irritating, and had gotten Jed’s blood boiling right from the start of the Trial. 

Mori’ing the others didn’t do much to sate the godawful bloodlust that he felt, it actually made it worse. He’d killed the others an infinite number of times, he wanted this one to die. He wanted to kill this one very slowly, just to teach him a lesson on how this world works. Maybe mark him up a bit before he goes. Nothing like a good, degrading title to remind you how utterly weak you are. 

The grip Jed had on his knife was painful, he was keeping himself angry, obsessing over just how horrid the new guy was.

As he did so, crossing wires and getting parts to work - trying his best - he tried to look over his shoulders, feel anything approaching him. The guy he was against he’d never seen before, and wasn’t exactly keen on seeing him again. He wanted out, even after he’d taunted him at pallets and tried to make his life hell. There’s just 2 gens left, and if I can get them done, we’ll be golden… or, I’ll be, since my teammates were obviously killed.

Until he eventually made it to a generator. Doing a quick spin around it revealed that there was nobody here. More rage wiped the grin off his face instantly. Damn it, god fucking damn it. He kicked the generator, decreasing any progress made on it. If the new survivor had made Jed’s life hell, he was gonna do it right back.

There was only one other gen, the survivor had to be there. If not, he was hiding. A poor choice, as he’d seen survivors solo two gens and escape plenty of times, although they weren’t cursed with the wrath of Ghostface.

Crouched with his knife raised, he crept to the red highlight he saw in the near distance. A flutter of twisted glee was felt in his chest, the sounds of someone fiddling with machinery was music to his ears. Soon the brat came into view, his back turned on the killer.

He didn’t feel watched, didn’t feel in immediate danger. What he felt was a glimmer of hope as it continued to work. Enough to slightly hum to himself a tune while working on the gen, hoping it’d be masked by his own progress.

Trying to suppress a red rage was incredibly difficult, not to mention the fact that there happened to be a new survivor to the fog. New survivors always thought themselves hot shit, apparently. This one in particular was especially irritating, and had gotten Jed’s blood boiling right from the start of the Trial. 

Mori’ing the others didn’t do much to sate the godawful bloodlust that he felt, it actually made it worse. He’d killed the others an infinite number of times, he wanted this one to die. He wanted to kill this one very slowly, just to teach him a lesson on how this world works. Maybe mark him up a bit before he goes. Nothing like a good, degrading title to remind you how utterly weak you are. 

The grip Jed had on his knife was painful, he was keeping himself angry, obsessing over just how horrid the new guy was.

As he did so, crossing wires and getting parts to work - trying his best - he tried to look over his shoulders, feel anything approaching him. The guy he was against he’d never seen before, and wasn’t exactly keen on seeing him again. He wanted out, even after he’d taunted him at pallets and tried to make his life hell. There’s just 2 gens left, and if I can get them done, we’ll be golden... or, I’ll be, since my teammates were obviously killed.

Basically, if you’re a survivor, draw your survivor with a nerf gun(your choice)

Killer’s get the plastic lightsabers

Entity’s are referees.

Nico was sat by the Campfire, looking at its flames and generally processing some sort of things… What was clear was he’d come back from a Trial, and he wasn’t exactly… used to it. While he tried to talk with the others, some sort of somber tone soaked into his voice while he did, whether it was a joke or normal conversation. Eventually some went off to do their other things, or were off to Trials. However, one person seemed to spark a bit of interest.