Captain Jenno Member
Waltzing for Zizi
STATUS: "Gee Sam, this seems like the kinda case that requires the gentle, safe-cracking touch of the sociopathic, sausage-fingered freelance police." 11 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Captain Jenno
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 809 (0.18 / day)
- VMs: 1
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- Captain Jenno 12 yrs ago
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Stormyx
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11 yrs ago
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"Gee Sam, this seems like the kinda case that requires the gentle, safe-cracking touch of the sociopathic, sausage-fingered freelance police."
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11 yrs ago
Blue in Dallas
Bio
Rain pattered dismally against the office’s windows, made liquid brass by the faint glow of the streetlamps below, and streaked against the glass like tears. Once, the words “Jennofski & Jennofski” had been painted in gold across these jalouises… but now there was only an outline, a ghost that had lingered, long past its time, when the acid rain had taken the rest to its grave.
The Octo P.I. could sympathise with that.
But as long as he remained, those names would never be forgotten. Not in this, the office that had been his home, his sanctuary, and his prison.
A perfectly preserved memory, kept sealed within the bell jar of personal tragedy.
OctoP.I. sighed, deeply.
“Of all the octopode's profiles in all the world… you had to read mine.”
Hi all, Jenno here! Or Captain. I'm your resident blues harpist, and part time octopode! (But let's keep that between you and me, eh? Nobody suspects a thing.)
If you want to know anything just drop me a line via DMs and I'll get right back to you!
The Octo P.I. could sympathise with that.
But as long as he remained, those names would never be forgotten. Not in this, the office that had been his home, his sanctuary, and his prison.
A perfectly preserved memory, kept sealed within the bell jar of personal tragedy.
OctoP.I. sighed, deeply.
“Of all the octopode's profiles in all the world… you had to read mine.”
Hi all, Jenno here! Or Captain. I'm your resident blues harpist, and part time octopode! (But let's keep that between you and me, eh? Nobody suspects a thing.)
If you want to know anything just drop me a line via DMs and I'll get right back to you!
Most Recent Posts
So, nobody wants anything specific to happen with their characters during the journey to their first camp?
The post was lovely, Vivid. I'll write my response soon!
We're starting a skip at that point, until they first make camp on their way down. If anyone wants something to occur with their characters during this journey, PM or Skype me.
We're starting a skip at that point, until they first make camp on their way down. If anyone wants something to occur with their characters during this journey, PM or Skype me.
Groovy post! Nice to see a couple of TSTS' underlying themes reflected in it.
Great progress so far, guys! Your posts're always so good, can you blame me for wanting more?
Great progress so far, guys! Your posts're always so good, can you blame me for wanting more?
Vivid Daydreamer said
Apologies, didn't mean to disappear all of a sudden -- ran into some health complications and have been sitting in a hospital bed more often than not recently ^^" Trying to draft up a post bit by bit in my free time, should hopefully be ready soon!
I'm really sorry to hear you're not well! I hope you're feeling better soon. But, and I really hate to be the villain here, a message on skype or a PM of some sort would not have gone unappreciated. I'm sure you of all people can understand how much it worries me when my friends disappear, and this is a good example of why I'd like to be kept in the know.
That said, good to see you're all here! Don't worry about posting again too soon in the IC, I just need some reactionary posts before we can nudge the plot forwards.
EDIT: But Acacia showed up late, so she can't react, really. Don't worry none, Berry.
Alright, I understand Empath's silence because she's gotta sit an exam, but can't the rest of you at least check in? Berry, Vivid, I get worried when people go quiet because generally when you go quiet that means this roleplay is dying.
Leidenschaft said
Oh, a Jenno post, sweet. And now, we wait for Nyxie...
The planets aligned and the moon was blue.
Although Burkswallow had certainly noticed that the oceans were curiously quiet, it hadn’t put his fears to rest: No thief made his living by underestimating his enemies.
And if they tried, living would quickly stop being the correct term.
Despite their smooth sailing, the Breton was still silently plagued by concerns: He spent much of the first day’s voyage pondering whether sending a letter to Zaveed would do any good- he’d found that the couriers of Tamriel were a persistent bunch, come rain, sleet, snow or dragon fire- but had decided against it, partially because it seemed unlikely that the parchment would ever reach him, and partially because Harding’s crew seemed like the sort of people who would take his being literate as an admittance of him actually being a woman, who liked to wear pink and sing soprano.
”They’re just jealous of how pretty you are,” Sweeps had taunted him, upon him voicing this concern, ”It’s not your fault they don’t look half as good in a dress.”
Still, despite his worries, he let no fret grace his features: In an odd turn of events, in fact, Burkswallow found himself quite comfortable upon the sea.
When aboard The Sea Wisp, he’d been adamant in remaining unseen at all times- like hell he was going to cover deck-scrubbing duty- but for whatever reason, this journey seemed different.
Instead, he took quite well to the brine, and found himself lingering up on the top deck often, seemingly without need for his “marine guerrilla tactics.”
He supposed the sea air soothed an anxiety he hadn’t had during his previous ocean-escapades: Perhaps those crusty old mariners who haunted Skyrim’s ports were right when they suggested there was a medicinal quality to it.
When they docked, however, that effect quickly retreated: They hadn’t arrived to peace, but instead to chaos.
“I thought things were going too well, alright,” Burkswallow announced, as Harding issued Rolf his orders, “You know, it’s uncanny, my vacations always end with riots.”
Then she turned to him, and- almost instinctively- he drew the glass blade Zaveed had issued him.
”… At least with me, you lot won’t be killed by mistake.”
That almost brought a smile to his face.
“Harding, I’ve had castles and sewers dropped on me since this journey began. I’m shockingly easy to maim,” he raised his blade, pre-emptively, “But damned hard to kill. Seems to be the way the wind is blowing.”
He threw a fleeting glance over to the battle, before returning to her.
He nodded, “But you’re right. Lead the way, Captain. I’m right behind you, doing the most important job: Beautifying the party.”
And if they tried, living would quickly stop being the correct term.
Despite their smooth sailing, the Breton was still silently plagued by concerns: He spent much of the first day’s voyage pondering whether sending a letter to Zaveed would do any good- he’d found that the couriers of Tamriel were a persistent bunch, come rain, sleet, snow or dragon fire- but had decided against it, partially because it seemed unlikely that the parchment would ever reach him, and partially because Harding’s crew seemed like the sort of people who would take his being literate as an admittance of him actually being a woman, who liked to wear pink and sing soprano.
”They’re just jealous of how pretty you are,” Sweeps had taunted him, upon him voicing this concern, ”It’s not your fault they don’t look half as good in a dress.”
Still, despite his worries, he let no fret grace his features: In an odd turn of events, in fact, Burkswallow found himself quite comfortable upon the sea.
When aboard The Sea Wisp, he’d been adamant in remaining unseen at all times- like hell he was going to cover deck-scrubbing duty- but for whatever reason, this journey seemed different.
Instead, he took quite well to the brine, and found himself lingering up on the top deck often, seemingly without need for his “marine guerrilla tactics.”
He supposed the sea air soothed an anxiety he hadn’t had during his previous ocean-escapades: Perhaps those crusty old mariners who haunted Skyrim’s ports were right when they suggested there was a medicinal quality to it.
When they docked, however, that effect quickly retreated: They hadn’t arrived to peace, but instead to chaos.
“I thought things were going too well, alright,” Burkswallow announced, as Harding issued Rolf his orders, “You know, it’s uncanny, my vacations always end with riots.”
Then she turned to him, and- almost instinctively- he drew the glass blade Zaveed had issued him.
”… At least with me, you lot won’t be killed by mistake.”
That almost brought a smile to his face.
“Harding, I’ve had castles and sewers dropped on me since this journey began. I’m shockingly easy to maim,” he raised his blade, pre-emptively, “But damned hard to kill. Seems to be the way the wind is blowing.”
He threw a fleeting glance over to the battle, before returning to her.
He nodded, “But you’re right. Lead the way, Captain. I’m right behind you, doing the most important job: Beautifying the party.”
I'm still around, by the by. Just haven't much to contribute to the IC, it's sort of in a stand-still and there isn't a great amount going on now the Prince's speech is over.
Glad you liked it! Now, what's everyone up to?
THIS IS ALL EMPATH'S FAULT.
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