Renots

[Trist]

OOC: This is an open thread, about four-person band. The position of the lead singer/lead guitarist and the drummer are taken. If you are interested in joining the thread (whether as part of the band or as some party-goer), just start posting or PM me. Please, keep OOC comments to a minimum.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Grime clung heavily to the rusty pipes visable along the ceiling of the basement club. A crude sign hung along the back wall, reading The Pit in thick crimson letters that appeared to be painted by somebody with broken fingers and a memory so ran down that they had problems remembering the alphabet.

It was the grungy appearance of the club that drew in the crowds of willing party-goers. After being open for a mere week, the club was crawling with hundreds of warm bodies every night. Soon, the bar was able to serve not only beer, but any alcoholic drink that one could imagine. Not only that, the club could hire actual bands to play live nightly.

Sometimes, though, the music manager of The Pit would hire little-known nobodies like the Renots to play a gig or two. It was a true privilege -- before being able to get booked, the band had to preform several hours before a group of workers that judged them and decided whether they were worthy of being on their stage or not. Thankfully, the Renots had made it.

The Renots, consisting of four members, played their first night at The Pit on a Saturday. Now, they were not the only band of the night, by no means. The people of The Pit weren't dumb enough to place a full night on the name of a bunch of newbies.

The band finished their night of playing around midnight. Amazingly, the crowed loved them. It almost seemed they were regretful that the four had to get offstage.

All the cheering and the clapping made Mog almost feel like this band might actually make it. Mog, for the record, was the drummer of the Renots, a female of the age of 18. She was barely even allowed into The Pit; given that ample alcohol coursed its way through the crowd, the enterance age was set at 21.

Mog stood from her drum-set, tucking her drumsticks into the deep back pocket of her baggy jeans. They hung loosely to her hips, low enough to show the upper rim of her black g-string panties. Mog was the typical drummer to a band, often considered crazy, a tad bit too out-going, and just plain hot.

Orginally, the girl had been the lead singer of the band. She had a passion for music, and even stronger of a passion for words. But when Deacon Kane joined... She was pushed back to drummer. Mog didn't quite hold a grudge against the painfully handsome singer, even she had to admit that the group was better off this way. Besides, she made one bad ass drummer.

The blonde ran her hand through her hair, combing it back out of her eyes. The golden strands reached to her arse and had a bit of a tendancy to get out of place when she got into her world of music. Her jaw-length bangs fell forward to the sides of her face.

Mog's sparkling violet eyes scanned over the crowd; for a moment she thought she was dreaming. Had the four of them done that good of a job?

Mog took a moment before she realized that the band had to get off the stage so the next could get their music going. She sent off a kiss from her thick, soft lips to their newly-formed fans, and then set to work disassembling her equipment.

 

[Paendragon]

Deacon was in shock. The crowd loved them. He shook out his shoulder length dark hair, and let loose a growl/howl through the mic. The crowd loved it.

He ducked his head so his hair hung down the sides of his face, and hid his green eyes from view, and smiled to himself. When he joined the band a few months ago, he had no idea they'd meld so well. At first glance, he seemed a bit odd for rock. He spent as much time listening to Beethoven, as he did Zeppelin and Dead Kennedy's, and was as likely to lauch into a slow bluesy rif on guitar, as screetch out a hard cut. But for some reason, when they played together, they made magic.

He had thought Mog would hold it against him when he joined, but she didn't seem to. As a matter of fact, she seemed to be able to read him incredibly well. She was able to anticipate his improvs, and pound right along with him. Her drums were the heart of the band, and they allowed him to show a bit of his soul.

She was also damned hot.

He walked over toward his guitar case, and grinned at the others.

"What a fuckin' ride, huh?"

 

[Trist]

"Amazing," Mog commented, a tone of disbelief hanging to her voice. "I still think I just got really fucked up last night and this is all a dream."

Mog was quick to her work, her drum-set almost completely disassembled by the time Deacon made his comment. She stood up straight, stretching out her arms out backwards, pushing her C-cup breasts forward unintentionally. She followed with leaning her head to each side, satisfied as it loudly snapped.

"So you guys gonna hang out and have an after-gig celebration with me?" she asked, straightening out her black tank top. It fit snuggly to her form, not quite reaching to her belly button, and sporting MOG written over the breasts in a chipped-white. Her outfit made her well-toned body obvious to the eye -- she stood 5'6", with an hourglass figure of 36C-28-36. Her soft, creamy complexion gave her a look of some innocent little school girl, but her grungy clothing suggested otherwise. If one took close enough notice, her pants slipped down just far enough to see the upper-portion of a black and dark grey tattoo on her left hip.

 

[Paendragon]

Deacon Kane let his eyes slide down her body before he could stop himself, and then busied himself with his guitar hoping she didn't notice. It's not right that his band mate should look so damned good. He didn't have this problem with his last band. Of course they were all guys.

After placing his guitar in it's case, and closing it, he stretched his athletic 6 foot tall frame.

"I'm in," he said, grinning. "Do I need to bother changing?"

He lifted the sweat soaked white t-shirt he wore with one hand as if to wave it at them, before pulling it over his head, draping it over his shoulder, and walking toward his small duffel bag.
"I might have another in here... if not, fuck it. You'll just have to deal with my stink," he said laughing.

 

[AngelBaby]

Zoey

Zoey finished packing up her guitar, and caught up to Deacon and Mog just in time to catch the tail end of their short conversation. She pushed a stray lock of almost-black hair out of her face, and jumped in.

"Oh, we are so partying, Mog. You can't have a gig like that and just go home afterwards. It would be, like, going on a complete high, and just - crash," she explained.

Zoey was prone to talking like a teenager. She was, really. She and Mog were the same age, and had founded the band together. However, although Zoey tended to be a little verbose sometimes, she was far from airheaded.

She was what her teachers used to call a 'troubled prodigy. Zoey hated being referred to as a 'prodigy' - she just saw it as being constantly bored, and sought to change that.

So she stopped doing the year-round solarium-fake tan thing, like the other girls. She went against the trend and dyed her hair black (or 'Nearly Black', as the packet said) instead of the regulation blonde. Now, she painted a striking, 'different' picture - her ice blue eyes stood out against her pale ivory skin, which constrasted sharply against her dark hair.

Zoey then took to sitting in the back of the class, where the slackers and grunge kids usually were. That was how she met Mog. The two had bonded over a piece of gum, and had been fast friends since. Which was the main reason why the band had taken off, really.

And now here they were - only eighteen, and a huge hit at the local club. Which, considering their success so far, was pretty damn good.

"So, who else is partying?" Zoey asked.

 

[Trist]

"I'm sure no one would mind," Mog commented as she began to remove her set from the stage. "The Pit is filled with grungy rockers who've been dancing for hours now -- everyone reeks of their own sweat, and no one cares." She smiled and looked to her bandmate.

"Besides," she continued, "You look damn good with your glistening, naked chest." She forced the description of his body with a deep, seductive tone and finished off the compliment with a quick wink.

"Now get your lazy ass over here and help me get my equipment off stage; the other band still needs to set up."

"As for you," she continued, pointing to Zoey. "You get into that crowd and get the party going. I know you can do a good job of getting the guys around here to fall in love of our band -- or atleast you," she laughed. Zoey was a sweet-heart, and in all honesty, a bit too smart for this type of work. But hell, if she was enjoying it, Mog would just keep trying to satisfy the girl with her unpredicable actions. Besides, the band was good having a sexy chick like Zoey; it made the boys drool.

 

[Dark Warrior]

OOC: Sounds good, if you'll have me. Angelbaby didn't quite make it clear if she was playing a bass guitar or a lead, so I guess my character will do the "other" one of that, if that's ok

IC: Travis

Travis stood silently as the others talked, a small smile on his lips. He was still lost in the music - it always tooked him a half-hour or so after a gig to loosen up.
At 20, he was a bit older than the other members. He was truly a musician at heart - even if he was nothing else. With little intelligence, and little other skills, music was about all he had. It had started in his childhood years with the recorder. Then the piano. Then the viola. Then the acoustic guitar. Then the electric and bass, and he had finally found his instruments. Skilled equally with both, he had managed to find his way into a bad fairly easily - even if he hadn't known the members earlier. They had gotten together through a friend of a friend of a friend of a... etc. etc. type link. A lucky find, cause they seemed to have something good together.
He was a quiet bloke, 6'2", average build. Green eyes and wild red hair which hung down to his neck.

 

[AngelBaby]

Zoey

OOC: It says that lead guitar is already taken...can we have two lead guitarists, maybe?

IC:

Zoey winked at Mog.

"Aren't you coming, though?" she asked, "And how 'bout you, Travis?"

She sighed. He was in his music daze again. Most band members got high on drugs; Travis got high on music. None of them could really understand it, but they dealt with it. He was, after all, an amazing guitarist.

"Travis? Earth to Travis, come in Travis. Travis, do you read me?" Yeah, she was going a bit overboard, but that was usually what it took to snap him out of it.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Finally!" she called, snapping her gum, " Do you want to party or not?"

 

[Trist]

Mog smiled, content with the way the night had gone so far. She was proud of the Renots -- starting out at the bottom of the pile, and making their way upwards. The only thing that could make this night any better, she thought, would be some agent popping up and begging for them to sign some record contract. She sighed wistfully from the simple thought of it.

Mog was not necessarily a glory hound; she hadn't started a band with Zoey to try and obtain fame or fortune. She had honestly started out only for her love of the feeling of it all. Hell, money didn't hurt though.

The members of the Renots had a basic idea of Mog's past, but no one knew better than Zoey. At the age of 15, Mog had run away from home. It's wasn't because her parents put too many restrictions on her, or tried to keep her from her 'true love', as some run-away sob stories go. The truth to the story was that she was raised by a single-working mother, and from the age of 13 Mog began selling drugs on the street to help pay the bills. Of course, she never told her mother of her little business, but she was happy to have a few extra hundred dollars a week.

At the age of 15, Mog's mother was brutally murdered by some random man off the streets. From what Mog was told, it was a simple mugging gone totally awry. After that, Mog was sent to live with her drunken, crack-head father. Of course mourning her mother's death, her father did nothing to help and only told her of what a worthless whore her mother had been, and how Mog was better off without the bitch. Not only did this work to give Mog a deep hatred for her father, it made her completely disreguard his orders and house rules.

At this point, most people assume that Mog ran away for the simple fact that she hated her father. This, however, is a completely wrong assumption.

One night Mog's father returned home, drunken and high on crack (as was the usual). Mog had been in the kitchen with a couple of her friends, talking and joking around, when her father suddenly barged into the room. He demanded that she send her friends away, and, although unhappy about the order, she did. At this point, her father lept upon her, screaming and tearing at her hair, hitting her and throwing her about like a rag doll. It took Mog several moments to realize, but he was so deluded that he began to treat Mog as if she were her mother (she did closely resemble her -- and her mother, Juel, had only been 16 when she gave birth to Mog). To defend herself, Mog stabbed a kitchen knife into her father's juggular vein. Once she was sure he was dead (20-some stabs later), she simply left his body in his apartment and ran away. Since then, she never used her real name and was only known by 'Mog'.

Mog walked up to Travis, putting on her usual happy face. "Yeah, Travis...you should hang out." she stated, putting her hand upon his shoulder.

 

[Dark Warrior]

Travis

Travis was brought of his daze by Zoey.
"Uh... yeah, sure, I'm up for a big night." he finally managed to say with a grin when Mog encouraged him. He pushed back the foremost of his mop hair, securing it in place behind his ears. "That went well, huh, guys." he said, letting a hand drift down to his thigh where he absent-mindedly began to drum a beat with his hand. A little idiosyncrasy he had. "Not long before we're up with the big shots, I reckon."

 

[Paendragon]

Deacon lowered his head more, so that his hair would hide the slight blush at Mog's words, and purposely left his shirt off. He wasn't about to let her know how uncomfortable he was being ogled, even as a joke. That's why he loved being on stage. It was the one place where he could let go of any and all inhibitions, and let the music take him.

He snapped the guitar case shut, and rose, turning toward the band.

"I say we all party." He walked behind Mog, and smacked her lightly on her ass. "C'mon. Let me give you a hand with your kit."

He chuckled and winked at her, as he bent over to begind disassembling the bass drum.

"Whoever's hitting the bar first, keep a beer waiting for me, with a shot of Jack." He looked over his shoulder, at the band. "We rocked tonight. No mistakes. I'm proud to play with you guys." He turned back to the drum kit after the admittedly corny statement.

It was odd. He could bare his soul in his lyrics, but felt like an ass saying anything even remotely emotional to his friends and bandmates.

OOC: No problem with the dual lead. It's actually not that uncommon anymore. The two guitarists will improv, and just feed off each other.

 

[Dark Warrior]

Travis

Travis smiled at what Deacon said. Saying corny shit like that was normally Trav's job.
"Well, I'm just gonna go take care of Jenny, then I'll be with you." he said, patting his guitar. Some people thought it was a bit weird, that he had given his guitar a name; it was the name of his first love, and his first heartbreak, and also one of the things that made him into the young man he was today. Apparently, she still has a special place in his heart, even though he hasn't seen here for a few years, and last time he heard from her she was half-way round the world and happily married.
He then turned and walked off, casually playing out a riff as he did. Lucky he didn't fall flat on his face, 'coz he wasn't watching where he was going.

 

[Trist]

Mog couldn't help but laugh softly as Deacon playfully smacked her ass. He never had done it before -- for a moment she wondered if he was just caught-up in the excitement of the gig.

It wasn't long before Deacon and Mog had the drums completely unassembled and placed out of the way. Soon, the other band took their place on the stage, setting up their own equipment. During the break between bands, The Pit was filled with the sounds of different tracks. It was by no means live, but it was better than listening to the bands tune up.

Suddenly the speakers began to heavy pound out a KoRn song (Here to Stay). Mog couldn't help but get a wide smile and jump down in the dancing area, beginning to thrashingly slam her body with the music. Sure, some people would claim that KoRn was nothing but an over-rated wanna-be band, but Mog didn't care. She got feelings from their music.

Soon the song was to the first chorus, and Mog was dishing out a dance of seductive waving motions, her dances having a lot to do with her hips and hands. She continued this throughout the song; never stopping, and never failing to do what she wanted. Dancing, to her, was another artform in which she could express herself.

 

[Paendragon]

Deacon tried himself with a towel, and pulled on a clean white T-Shirt. He ran his finger through his hair, shook it out, and sauntered over to the bar. He ordered a Guinness and a shot of Jack from the female bartender, who delivered both with a wink and a smile.

"They're on me," she whispered, and smiled again.

"Thanks," Deacon answered, and smiled back. She was pretty, but not his type. He smiled again, before turning and leaning on the bar.

Mog had just leapt onto the dance floor, and he couldn't help but watch. She danced with the same energy she played with. It was intoxicating to watch. He was fortunate enough to have two incredibly sexy bandmates. Speaking of, where the hell was Zoey?

He fired down the shot, and winced slightly at the burn in his throat. He sipped the dark beer as a chaser, as his eyes scanned for his bandmates. He couldn't see them yet, but they knew to meet at the bar, so he figured he'd wait here.

He looked toward Mog again. She was swaying her body with abandon on the dance floor. He took another sip from his beer, and watched her over the top of his glass.

 

[Trist]

Mog made her way to the bar as her song ended, taking a deep breath as she pushed her bangs out of her face. She ordered a Budweiser and downed more than half the bottle in a single drink. Thankfully, the bartenders here didn't card people when they wanted a drink; that was done at the door. Mog figured as long as she was here, she could pretend to be of the drinking age.

She leaned back, elbows on the bar, watching the next band get ready to play. "I hope they're good," she said, mostly to herself, but surely Deacon was able to hear her.

 

[Paendragon]

Deacon grinned at her. "We'll find out."

He had heard of the band before, but hadn't paid much attention to what people thought of them.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, and took another sip of his Guinness.

"If they're decent, we could dance..."

 

[Trist]

Mog smiled. "Hey, even if they suck, we could still dance."

She took another drink from her Budweiser, continueing to watch those that were setting up. Well, she could say one thing, they looked cool. Each wore grungy clothing, and she hoped she could expect some heavy punk music... Maybe they could even get a mosh-pit going on. She smiled in her hopes.

 

[Paendragon]

Deacon chuckled, and took a long swallow from his beer. This should be interesting. He never danced much, usually, but tonight they were celebrating. He always felt rather clumsy on a dance floor. But this was Mog. He was comfortable around her.

He looked the band over. They looked alright, but that rarely meant much. It only mattered if they had talent. Which reminded him.

"You know, we should hook up a mic for you back there. There should be a way to cut out the feedback from the drums." He never dealt with the equipment much beyond his amp, and was far from an expert. "It'd be cool to have you singing with me, occasionally. Hell, if Ringo can do it, anyone could."

 

[Trist]

Mog laughed. "Oh, and I thought you guys hated my singing. That's why I got booted from being the lead, isn't it?"

Mog wasn't spiteful about the statement, she was more or less laughing about Deacon's suggestion.

"But, if you guys think it'd be good for the band...I'm up to it."

She took another drink.

 

[Paendragon]

Deacon chuckled.

"It must be 'cause I'm so damned pretty," he said sarcastically, referring to his joining the band. "Although I'm sure people would much rather watch you wiggling up there like you just did on the dance floor, than my jumping around like a rabbit on crack."

"I know I would." He drained his beer, and signaled the bartender for another. She dropped it of with another suggestive smile.

"Could you start a tab?" he asked.

She nodded, and winked. "Starting with the next one."

He thanked her, and turned back toward Mog, and the stage.

"I wonder where the rest of the group are?" he said, hoping that Mog wouldn't give him any shit about the bartender. Or better yet, hoping she didn't hear at all.

 

[Dark Warrior]

Trav

After he had finished warming down and packing away Jenny, Travis made his way over to the bar, where he saw Deacon and Mog already sitting. He strode over and took a seat next to Deacon.
"Hey guys." he spoke, hoping the others would catch his voice over the music. He then turned to the bartender, who was asking what he wanted.
"Surprise me, honey." he said with a smile, watching as she smiled back before preparing his drink.

 

[Trist]

Mog watched at the bartender hardcore hit on Deacon, and couldn't help but laugh to herself. "Between us actually being a good band and people wanting in our pants... I think we're going to make it." she thought to herself.

"Hmm... Perhaps. But, you have to keep in mind, if I were playing the guitar and singing, I couldn't do some of the moves that I typically do on the dancefloor. Not as much freedom, you realize."

As soon as she finished her reply, Travis approached the two of them, sitting next to Deacon. She gave him a warm smile, returning his greeting with a, "Glad you came to join us, Trav. So, what do you think of The Pit?"

 

[Dark Warrior]

Trav

"Not too bad, not too bad." Trav said in response to Mog's question as the bartender passed him over a... something. He threw the shot down his throat, immediately coughing and having to shake his head to get the foul taste out.
"Acoustics could be better but." Trav continued as he looked over the room. "It's ok, if you're close, but I don't think the sound carries too well to the back."
Having given his professional opinion, Trav turned back to the bartender, who was looking at him expectantly.
"I'll just have a beer, please." he said with a grin.

 

[AngelBaby]

Zoey

Zoey made her way through the thronging crowd, semi-dancing as she moved. She saw a few guys throw looks her way, and made sure to send them a small wink in return.

She finally found the bar, and saw the rest of the band sitting there. Mog had a beer, and Zoey wondered how she'd managed to pull of that one. But that thought was shrugged off with the next one - that is, would they let her have one?

She found out the answer when she sat down, and a girl asked her what she wanted. Zoey smiled and ordered a beer of her own, then turned to the guys.

"Pretty dodgy management, doncha think?" she asked, with a small giggle, "But it's pretty cool for the grunge type scene, I'd say."

 

[Dark Warrior]

Trav

Trav turned to face Zoey as she came up to them, taking a swig from his beer as she watched her sit down.
"Hey Zoey. Glad you could make it." he said with a small grin, shaking his beer lightly to let her know what he meant.