yes. I am still here. I just read you're post. I haven't heard from a lot of people so I was trying to decide on how to proceed. I could write in a few deaths, but it looks like you're about to off someone as well? I was hoping to hear from a few players but it's been really quiet.
Haha, well I doubt @Fetzen is ready to part with Vodilic so quickly, so it's unlikely that there will be a scene of Prudence stabbing his character to death anytime soon. After all, we're at a feast, not a wedding. Maybe after their first score. :P
It actually seems like we're only down two of our crew. They've both been pretty silent on this website in whole for the last month, so I figure that's unlikely to change. Still, since it's so early on in the story we don't really need to kill off their characters. I'd suggest shoving them to the side and maybe tossing out a fresh Interest Check to fill their spots if you think we need more folks, although 5 isn't a bad group size. Their characters could just refuse whatever the King's offer is off-screen, or we could keep them as minor NPCs and try and reach out to our missing friends in hopes of bringing them back.
Either way, looks like most of us are totally still down, so unless someone wants to put in another post before the King kicks off the plot I think we can just proceed with that.
Prudence flicked her eyes over to the giant of a man that had taken the chair near her. She couldâve anticipated the kingâs right hand or one of his guards make a demand regarding her lack of proper dining etiquette, but never would she have believed that a brute who looked like he broke bones for a living would criticize her. What next? Was he going to complain about how she didnât use the proper fork to enjoy her meal, or how she didnât dab at her face after every bite like that foppish man at the other table? No, no, it wasnât that. It was a challenge. A power grab. Classic intimidation. He thought he was the biggest, baddest bastard at that table. The frail boy who skittishly sipped at his drink while his eyes darted around the room wouldâve backed down, but not Prudence. She had to prove to him now that he was messing with the one lady in the room with stones that were bigger than him.
She turned to glare at Vodilic, toying with a piece of cutlery in her hands. What if she just jumped him? He was big, but was he fast? She could jam that little table knife into his thick neck and slice it like it was a piece of steak in the blink of an eye. Prudence flexed the end of the knife between her thumb and forefinger as she continued to stare the behemoth down. The guards would surely get her afterwards, but what did it matter? She had already been in the dungeon, and she began to feel like she preferred the cold, dark pit over this lavish and expensive decor. Of course, if she wasnât going to the gallows now, she would definitely be sent to the gallows then. Hard to plead your innocence after stabbing someone right in front of the High King himself. She let out a little sigh, smiled at the giant, and lifted a foot as if to move it.
Then, in one swift motion, she lifted her boot higher before slamming it down on the table. Plates jumped and a bit of wine splashed out of a flagon, but the true disaster struck next as Prudence quickly swung her legs off of the table. The large man got his wish, but not before she had sent a scattershot of silverware, food, and booze barreling towards his lap. The other meals at the table that were caught in Prudenceâs pissing match likely suffered collateral damage as she jumped up to her feet. In the commotion, Prudence had swapped her steak knife for her dagger and now held the bare blade behind her back while her other hand covered her mouth. Perhaps it would look like she was hiding her embarrassment for causing such a mess, but the big guy would see the corner of shit-eating grin peeping out from behind her fingers.
âMy deepest apologies,â said Prudence, failing to suppress her laughter. âI fear Iâm not used to being out of shackles, yet. I mustâve been,â she gave Vodilic a full look over from head to toe, âOvercompensating. Iâm sure you understand.â
She tightened the grip on the dagger behind her back. Outright stabbing the guy? Utterly idiotic. But self-defense? She could argue self-defense.
Penny was bossing them around again. It wasnât like Billy was going to refuse to listen to her, but it still felt weird taking orders from his younger sister. He sighed deeply and stopped pretending to look through the archives. He had almost made it out from behind the shelves when he caught a glimpse of some purple tear in their world ripping open. Immediately, he ducked down behind a thick stack of boxes as a bunch of robed people carrying staves and swords emerged. To Billy they looked like they had just accidentally been teleported from a Ren faire, although one of them headshotting the Mayor made it quite clear that they werenât just a bunch of nerds.
Penny locked eyes with her brother as she turned to face the Watchers. She tried as best as she could to not shake, although it wasnât out of fear. She was furious. She blinked and her abstraction clicked on, a grimace forming on her face as the tiniest movements bombarded her with an overload of information. If she had only powered through the crippling migraines she mightâve had the reaction time necessary to spot the arrow and blast it away before it had murdered the Mayor. Her nails bit into her palms. If only the Mayor hadnât been so goddamn cryptic and warned them that they were about to be invaded. If only the Watchers werenât an organization that exclusively accepted assholes. Which one of them fired the arrow? Sheâd love to seem them try that with her.
No, no, no, no. A fight was a bad idea. Penny released a held breath and with that vented some of her anger as Amethyst and Britney began to bicker back and forth. She listened and picked apart their argument in her mind. Britney came from a long-line of power hungry schemers? Yeah, most rich people were jerks. Point Amethyst. Britney prevented them from meeting the Watchers, but they would likely been dead if they did? Well, the Mayor was there with his damn eye shot out and their little gang was still standing, although not without casualties. Penny called that a draw.
The argument started to become increasingly about pointing fingers at who wronged who. Penny couldnât help but feel mildly embarrassedâshe couldâve seen her old self doing this exact same thing. John Reid was so powerful that the Glutton killed him, yet Britney was somehow able to kill him? Stupid. Hell, even if Britney had killed John Reid he had murdered a ton of people. Point Britney. She couldnât absorb his abstractions and that somehow woke up the Glutton? Come on. That was grasping at straws. Point Britney. Also, the assholes from Glint were why the Glutton was trapped in their mountain anyway, so wasnât pinning everything on Britney just another attempt at dodging responsibility? Point Britney.
âAlright, look,â said Caelea. âIâll be the first person to admit that I donât really trust Britney and, honestly, I hate her guts. But, I trust you even less. You waltzed in here and straight up killed someone. You look like youâre from the fucking middle ages. I donât see any reason to believe you. And whatever, she may have fucked up, but thereâs no way someone lies that well for so long. So no, I donât trust youâ
Point Caelea.
âIâve heard enough,â said Penny. Her voice was calm but strained, as if she was trying to keep herself from joining the shouting match. âYou make some compelling points, Amethyst. My name is Penny, and these are my people. The...Campers.â Penny scrunched up her face at the sound of that name. Why had they never come up with a mysterious name for their group? âIâd love to sit down one day and explain to you how on, uh, Shimmer we generally donât open up a parley by shooting someone in the fucking face with an arrow since it tends to make everyone just a little tense. Unfortunately, we actually have to go reseal the Glutton back inside of its cave, soâŠâ
'Lynette, shit, I hope this works. You got those glyphs in place if this goes bad, right? Iâm a shit negotiator,' said Penny telepathically, hoping that her old friend would be able to get the message.
âSo, Amethyst,â continued Penny, her controlled speech slipping as a mix of desperation and amusement broke through. âWhy donât we just call a temporary truce until after this whole Glutton thing is handled and then we can hold a trail or something? Seriously, Iâd love to hear everything after our world is no longer on the âmost likely to be devouredâ list. You can even feel free to tag along. Come see the civil war destroying our town, maybe toss us a portal or two so we can avoid the snow, heck, punch out an avatar of destruction with us and Iâll even give you the key to the city since you guys killed the person who normally does that,â she said, her words falling flat.
âOtherwise, justâŠâ Penny flicked the back of her palms at the Watchers, as if to shoo them back into their portal. âYa know, get bent.â
One second Rita was hurrying out of the library along side of her friend and then the next second she wasâOh my fucking god what is that. She screamed as the long-clawed monster pierced her collar and hoisted her up off of the floor. The overwhelming amount of fear was beaten back only by the utter feeling of helplessness as the monster wrapped itâs claws around her neck. She was going to die. She was going to die and there was nothing she could do about it. Rita grabbed at its claw. No way. No way. She had to live. She needed to know the truth. She had to, she had to, sheâfor a brief second Rita actually thought she had struggled hard enough to escape the wendigo. Then it just threw her.
Rita hit the ground hard, although thankfully she heard nothing snap. As she tried to pull herself out of her daze, she felt the heat from Justinâs Soul-Self, heard the book shelf crash down, and listened as the wendigo screamed in frustration. Rita began to pick herself up, pain racing through her body as she struggled to her feet. There was a crash, and then another crash. Thuds from above. Somebody yelled run, but she didnât need to be told to do that. Justinâs phoenix was back, and it served as a beacon of safety as it carved a path for them out of the library.
Rien shouted about how even once they got outside, they wouldnât be able to keep those things inside. That was a problem for someone who wasnât running for her fucking life to worry about. If they were able to make it to the school there was the chance that the others would already be back and could help Justin fight them off. Who had picked these groups anyway? Her face tightened in pain; her side hurt bad. She ignored it. She cast a look over her shoulder to find Tuyen and Tuyenâs shadow tossing wendigos like they were ragdolls. Maybe their group wasnât as helpless as Rita had first thought, but still. No time for thinking. Only time for running.
You'll probably notice there's a lot of references to this universe in Vivid because I like to make references only two or three people will get
Jesus Christ. I just scrolled through the last page and my mouse wheel killed itself. Like, when I hit the first big one I was like, "Oh, I've done one with three or four folks before. No biggie," until in that same goddamn collab post there was two other collab posts. What! How! There's a character limit! You guys broke the character limit!
[E S R A B I R K A N] [27] | [FEMALE] | [5â6â] | [AB+]
General Information
NAME: Esra E. Birkan
PSEUDONYM: Tallulah Bernhardt
APPEARANCE: Esra is of Iranian descent with black, straight shoulder-length hair and dark eyes. She has the compact, muscular body of a ballerina and a dark olive skin tone with a smattering of freckles. Her left arm is covered with a sleeve of flower tattoos interconnected with leaves and lace. Esra has wide, wandering eyes and a sly, confident smirk, as if her observations are constantly keeping her amused. She dresses in an aggressive, artsy fashion, favoring bright, bold colors and outright weird design choices that make her pop out like a peacockâthe more ridiculous the outfit, the better. Esra moves with a kind of graceful flamboyancy and speaks in a slightly hoarse and very rushed voice, as if every thought must be forced out of her before she breathes.
OCCUPATION: Esra is a lover of theater and acting, and has several uncredited roles starring in friendsâ college film projects, community theater productions, and as an extra in a movie that was released directly to streaming. She dreams of working on Broadway one dayâHollywood is just soooo corruptâand has gotten a few callbacks off of off-Broadway productions but never landed a named role, let alone a paying one. She did manage to land a serving job at a high-end restaurant on Broadway, so technically her dream came true.
Esra is a woman who thrives on interacting with other people. She can draw the most retreating person out of their shell and charm the hell out of even the biggest sourpuss. She may never have made it to celebrity status, but she still carries that kind of energy that just pulls people in. Itâs not a put-on, either. Esra is just naturally charming, friendly, and so easy to talk to that she can feel like an old friend to a total stranger. She can make just about any environment into a welcoming one through her warmth, and feels like it is her duty to keep people entertained. If sheâs capable of feeling awkward, then she most certainly doesnât show it.
VICE: Dishonest
That part about it not being a put-on? Yeah, that was probably bullshit. Lifeâs easier if people like you, and the quickest way to get someone to warm up to you is to feed them whatever nonsense they want to hear. In all honesty, Esra believes that lying is usually nicer than being honestâbetter to say that their stupid hat looks nice instead of pointing out that itâs clear theyâre hiding a bald spot. Besides, boil acting down to its most basest form and itâs really just pretending to be someone else. Therefore, lying so much that itâs practically compulsive is just practicing her passion. Really. Itâs totally harmless, and sheâs really fricking good at it.
Except thatâs also a bunch of crap. Esra doesnât just tell harmless white lies, and sometimes one lie leads into another. She has to pretend to her parents that sheâs engaged to her ex-boyfriend who dumped her six months ago and pretend to her work that her parents are dead because she already used all of her grandparents and step-grandparents âdeathsâ as an excuse to miss a shift. Itâs a good thing that Esra can easily make someone her friend, because sheâs absolutely gone through a number of them by spreading rumors about them and lying straight to their face. Big or small, almost every one of her lies are told to either make people pity her or make people respect her, but either way it is all about her.
PERSONAL GOALS: Besides the never-ending, unachievable pursuit of happiness? Esra simply wants to have some kind of validation. Originally she figured that the joy a crowd would experience from viewing her in a theater performance would achieve that goal, but things havenât worked out for her. She knows sheâs a nobody and is powerless to force some major change of the status quoânor does she consider herself radical enough to want some kind of extreme revolution. Still, she seeks to be a part of something that gives her a sense of self-worth. Sheâs tried activism, charities, and volunteering, but her efforts still leave her feeling hollow, mostly because sheâs only doing that shit to have someone tell her that she is such a good person.
PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY: Esra believes that the world is a cruel and uncaring place, and itâs the responsibility of everyone to make it a little less hateful. She enjoys being friendly and goes out of her way to make things hospitable for others. She can find purpose in anything as long as it also benefits someone else (and assuming they recognize her herculean efforts and shower her with adoration). Small, little good deeds add a bit of positivity into the world, and while it may suck, perhaps it will eventually balance out the negativity. She believes most people are ultimately morally good, but the problem with that idea is the word most. A single asshole can ruin everything, but as long as the asshole isnât her (or canât be proven to be her) that means she is doing the right thing.
QUIRKS: âșEsra is almost physically unable to stay still. She managed to screw up being a tree in an elementary school play. âșShe tends to have a particularly aggravating habit of humming or quietly singing show tunes and Disney hits to fill silence.
Background Information
âWell if they wanted me to root for the protagonist then why give the bad guy such an absolute banger?â
Esra spent the first twenty-some years of her life growing up near Cincinnati, Ohio, and had a fairly typical early childhood. She served her time at school, avoided being killed by her older sister, watched Dad move out and Momâs new friend Steve move in, and attended dance class. She had friends and summer jobs and really, really big life changing moments that were only big and life changing because she was in high school and are actually quite banal. The only thing about her early life that really shaped who she is as a person now is her love of theater and how she acted in just about any school play she could. Well, that and how she managed to get her stupid Mom to break up with Steve after lying about him intentionally walking in on her in the shower. Boy, was that a fun fight to listen in on. It had almost been too easy.
After graduation, Esra attended the University of Cincinnati for Performing Arts, splitting her time between acting lessons and dance classes. Actually, well, perhaps it was more like splitting her time between getting stoned, getting drunk, getting laid, and getting up at noonâwell after most of her classes. Yet despite this productive lifestyle, she still somehow managed to fail out of school. However, none of that mattered to Esra. Acting wasnât something you learned how to do in a book, it was something that had to be experienced, lived, breathed, and whatever other bullshit she could come up with to stop her Mom from freaking out about the considerable student loan that had been wasted. Like, she had to live in the scene, not listen to some English teacher explain to her the intricati...the intrica...the dumb shit about Shakespeare. Besides, Shakespeare didnât go to college! At least as far as Esra knew he didnât go to college; she never attended that class about him.
Anyway the point being was that she had to move to New York, because that was where the acting scene lived. She hoped in a van with her boyfriend and headed to New York City, which looked a lot like New Jersey because it was New Jersey since NYC was too expensive. Esra took to joining improv groups and trying out for plays while he took to mostly playing Xbox and smoking weed. Neither of them were making money, so she took up a part-time waitressing gig and he, well, got really good at first person shooters until they got evicted. They broke up, she moved in with a couple of girls she knew from an improv group, and it was finally time to make it big in NYC.
Then that didnât happen. Esra doesnât know how things fell apart. Callbacks were never made, or when she got offered a role it was so far beneath her talents and the pay was below even that. It was absolutely boggling. This wasnât how things went in the movie. At some point the girl was supposed to make her big break and have all of her dreams come true, or at least meet a really rich guy who could pay for her shit and she could pretend to like. She wasnât supposed to be waiting tables and playing make-believe with a bunch of losers. What gives? Esra felt defeated, but she never let others know that. Prospects were coming along, she had talked to a couple of producers, and things were in the works, or so she said.
And they stayed in the works. As creeping doubt began to fill her head, Esra started branching out from the stageâclearly, it was all a bunch of people playing favorites when it came to casting. She had no shot unless she got down on her knees and well anyway she started to look for different outlets. The best part of acting was the applause, after all, so if she couldnât get lauded there sheâd get lauded elsewhere. Esra began volunteering, doing this and that to put some good karma out there for herself in hopes of getting some cosmic reward. She mostly got scared by the weird people in the soup kitchen. Meanwhile, she did manage to get a better serving job at a nicer restaurant. Things werenât ideal but she was doing okay money-wise. Eventually, everything just sort of settled into a routine. She acted and danced in community shows, worked most evenings, did the occasional volunteer work, and drank just about every night. Her New York dream was now just her New York life and it was a bit of a grind but ultimately she could pretend that it was okay.
And then June 6th happened, and Esra screwed up. She found herself huddled in the corner of a coffee shop with a good view of the TV when the news broke. Still sore from her latest breakup and desperate for some attention, she pulled out her phone like she was on autopilot and tweeted: âTrapped in #TheBeacon. Safe, but scared. I love you all.â She thought nothing of it, turned back to the TV, and caught the subtitles just in time to read the part about how no information had come from anyone inside of the Beacon since it had gone into lockdown. She felt a knot twist in her stomach as she turned her attention to her phone; the number of retweets and messages were staggering. Several of them were from news outlets. Feeling sick, she quickly deleted the message, skipped work, and spent the rest of the day with her phone off.
However, people who knew her had seen the tweet. The next day at work she was bombarded with questions about what happened at the Beacon, ones she answered with cagey lies about how she still hasnât even begun to process it and really doesnât want to think about that. People from her life that she thought had completely burnt their bridge with her reached out to make sure that she was okay. Even her mom called her upâthe first time they had talked in years. She enjoyed her little fifteen minutes of absolutely unearned and totally fabricated fame, spinning more and more lies constructed out of whatever information she could get from the media. Even a couple of strangers recognized her. It was totally cool. She was like a mini-celebrity, on they showered her with pity instead of love. Still, better than being alone.
Maybe thatâs why she didnât pretend to not speak English when an older guy with a cane came and sat down beside her at some bar one night and began talking about the Beacon. At first, she thought he had come over there to tell her how incredibly brave and amazingly strong she was like the rest of the schmucks. That wasnât the case, and Esra was about to up and leave before he bought her a topshelf cocktail. She stayed for that drink, and then another, although by the second she was already hooked in to what he was saying. Liquor bribes werenât necessary, but they were appreciated and helped her swallow up his conspiracy theories. She was thoroughly drunk by the time he tried to convince Esra to join his cause to take down some shadowy corp.
âWait,â she said, waving her hands in front of her face as if to clear away the drunken haze as the man began to leave. She stared at her befuddled reflection in the bar mirror and then cocked an eyebrow over at the man. âWhatâs your name?â
âGage.â
Then he was gone, and Esra was left with a bunch of questions and woke up the next morning with a sugary hangover from hell. Her life continued, but she even though she was drunk off of her ass she still remembered bits and pieces of her conversation with Gage. She could spot a bullshitterâit was easy to see her own kindâand he didnât seem like one. Still, she was about to write the whole thing off when an unmarked letter arrived for her, or rather, it arrived for Tallulah Bernhardt and that lady was getting paid bank. However, it wasnât just the money that convinced Esra that maybe she should check out Gageâs little project. The best thing that had happened to her recently was pretending to be in a hostage situation, and even Esra was willing to admit that was sad and pathetic. Maybe this would fill that void growing inside of her. And even if they cocked it up, at least sheâd be famous.
Operative Information
[T H E C H A M E L E O N]
ROLE DESCRIPTION: Esraâs observant and extroverted nature allows her to get a deeper understanding of how certain people behavior, and when coupled with her years of amateur acting experience it allows for her to become the Chameleon. She excels at playing roles that allow her to get into advantageous positions to assist the group. Not only does she have a variety of âdisguisesâ purchased courtesy of the thrift shop and the chops to rift up a new persona, she also connects so deeply with that fake individual that, much like a method actor, she just about becomes them. Therefore, Esra can serve the group in a number of ways, like scouting ahead to give them a sitrep or infiltrating an off-limits area.
However, pretending to be someone she isnât is sometimes a risky move, and having her cover blown can be absolutely devastating to a plan. Fortunately, Esraâs completely duplicitous nature can actually be a bit of a boon during these times. Her commitment to a failed character, glibness, and argumentative attitude might just be enough to coerce a person into leaving her alone, or at the very least buy the others some valuable time to pull off something grand.
POSSESSIONS: âșMakeup Kit, Extensive Wardrobe, and Wigs.
SKILLS: âșCharacter Actor Although she never made it, Esra is actually a really talented actor. She can play a wide-range of parts, easily changing subtle things about herself like her posture, her gait, or her facial expressions to better fulfill that role. Likewise, she can adapt a number of accents that all sound fairly genuine. Years spent memorizing a bunch of lines in a hurry has helped improve her short-term memory, making it easy for her to craft some truths into the total lies sheâs going to be giving the people around her when she is in character.
âșCommunity Theater Esraâs stage talents doesnât just end at being able to walk different and talk differently. Thanks to her no-budget community theater background, sheâs also pretty handy with wardrobe, makeup, and styling. While perhaps some of the group could use a bit of a makeover, itâs really more useful with helping to craft a disguise to keep everyone incognito.
âșDance Number Esra has been doing ballet and other forms of dance for nearly as long as she has been pursuing acting. While it would be delightful if everything could be settled in a dance off between her and the head of Pyramid Microsystems, the chances of that happening are only middling. Still, ballet has given her an incredible balance, extreme flexibility, and a surprising amount of strength for someone her size.
FLAWS: âșFatigued A lot of energy gets spent on other people or just being exuberant for the sake of exuberance. Then there is her job, her acting passion, her volunteer work, the fact that she hardly gets a full night of sleep, and now the part where she joined a super secret group hell bent on destroying some kind of Neo-Illuminati. Face it, Esra is flipping tired, and sheâs on the fasttrack to burning out.
âșJealous Esra can pretend to be happy for the success of others. She can also put her hand in a blender, but you donât see her making any fist protein shakes. Even if she can muster a lie to congratulate someone for getting what they most certainly did not earn her face can completely betray her feelings.
âșNeedy Esra doesnât have to always be the center of attention, but she does need to get a spotlight shined her way on a rather frequent basis. God forbid the squad get a couple of walkies; sheâll be buzzing in every minute.
âșSuspicious For some reason, Esra believes that most people are usually lying. Sincerity is strange to her, and the more adamant someone is about a thing the less likely she is to believe them.
SECRET COUNT: 1
NOTES: Esraâs tweet got some mild media coverage before it was deleted, but her story was pretty much lost under the current of ones about the actual victims of June 6th following the raid.
@OppositionAh, sorry to hear about the emergency. You're good, boss. Hope things go as smooth as possible. I really dig this concept, so a bit of a delay isn't gonna shove me away.
Neziul
Antlers
CassidyTheButch
ML
Simply Not Real
NoriWasHere
Blizz
Passable Writer
Evil Ghost Note
