EchoicChamber

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

@Hekazu Hopefully! I’ll go ahead and sacrifice all my illegal texts in hopes of gaining his favor, haha.

And that’s fine with me. The progression of careers IC makes a lot of sense. c:
Would it be okay if my private investigator had some awareness of Parabola and the Fingerkings from the start? Or nah?

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

@Hekazu Another Fallen London fan! God, I’m always a sucker for this sort of stuff. I had tried to make an FL rp a while back, and it sort of flickered out, sadly. I’d be really interested in something like this.
Would it be okay if I had a character with an career that’s not among the traditional FL careers? A private investigator, for instance? I’d probably join with a Correspondant either way, haha.

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

@Claw2k11 Of course! I feel like a lot of us were caught up with real life and other stuff lately, so it should be no problem to get back into the swing of things.

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

The Citadel

Madison’s thoughts were still swarming with more questions than answers when the door once again swung open, allowing an older, distinctively well-kept man entrance into the room. His face struck Madison as familiar, although it was only when he properly introduced himself that it fully clicked in his head.

“Yes, that would be me.” Smiling brightly (and dearly hoping he didn’t look as rattled as he felt), Madison stood, clasping the offered hand in his and giving a firm shake. “It’s very nice to meet you, Viceroy Varren. I’ve heard a lot about you from my briefing back home. From what I heard, you’re exceptional at managing the sectors under your charge.” He drew back, eyes lit up with enthusiasm, although the look faltered a little with the Viceroy’s question.

“Well.” Madison clasped his hands together. He gave a soft, nervous little laugh. “It’s certainly been...eventful, I would say.” The idea of innocent people being subject to the sorts of horrors that the Alchemist mentioned still stuck prominently in his head. Madison swallowed a little, dearly hoping that he hadn’t offended Viceroy Varren with that comment, and was about to throw out a compliment- of the base, of the faculty- when the clatter of trash caught his attention. Madison turned, only to see that the serf that had entered earlier was now thoroughly covered in trash, and attempting to clean all of it by hand.

“Oh! Oh, dear.” Madison took a few instinctive steps towards the serf, eyes wide with concern. “Are you alright, there, sir? I could find you a dustpan, if it would make things any easier for you.”

♠♥♣♦ Welcome to Wonderland (CLOSED FOR NEW REBOOT) ♢♧♡♤

@Furiosa Ayyy, that's dope. Thank you a bunch, Furi! You're awesome. I'll go ahead and replace the pics in a bit. c:

♠♥♣♦ Welcome to Wonderland (CLOSED FOR NEW REBOOT) ♢♧♡♤

The door of the bistro jingled merrily with Luka’s entrance, although it seemed to take both owners a moment to register that it had even made a sound at all. It was Percival who had looked up from their frantic scribbling first, a wide grin stretching across his face at the sight of their guest. “Well, look who it is,” he crowed. His hand flew forwards to jab at Indigo’s shoulder, only for her to smack it away before it could connect.

Smirking a little to herself (more than a little upon hearing her brother’s mumbled curse), Indigo turned, seeming to visibly pep up.

“If it isn’t Luka!” She hopped to her feet, sauntering over to swing her arm over their guest’s shoulders. She liked the kid. Had picked up a job with them not long ago as a server, and wasn’t half bad at it. Made a good test subject for new cocktails and snacks and whatever, to boot. “Can’t say it’s been a helluva party or anything, honestly. Been working around the shop since the sun came up.”

“You mean ‘sitting around since the sun came up while Perc gets all the hard work out of the way’.” Percival leaned back in his chair- dangerously so- and threw his arm over his forehead with a dramatic groan. “She’s been working me right down to the bone, here! It’s inhumane, Blonds! Downright cruel!”

Indigo rolled her eyes. “Yeah, cause y’know just how backbreaking counting supplies can be. Not like I’ve been slaving over the finances or anything, here.” She gave Luka a hearty smack on the back. “Blonds and I know what a real day’s work is around here, isn’t that right?”

“Oi.” Percival propped the chair back into its normal position, making a face. “I did the finances last time, didn’t I? Have a right to complain, here.”

“We’ve been trading off the job since we got the bistro, Perc.”

“Exactly!”

The two seemed just about on the brink of another argument, speaking with their distinctive rapidness, before they suddenly seemed to remember that they had company. Rising from the table, Percival joined his sister in tossing an arm over Luka’s shoulders, taking the side opposite of Indigo to do so. “Anyway,” he said, “what brings you around, Blonds? Coming in for work?”

“Or for some breakfast or something?” Indigo chimed in. “Can’t officially sell you some wine or anything if that’s what you’re looking for, but I do have a few things whipped up you can taste test for me real quicklike.”

---

@knifeman

♠♥♣♦ Welcome to Wonderland (CLOSED FOR NEW REBOOT) ♢♧♡♤

A lull of activity in the morning wasn’t a rare occurrence by any means. It came with the business. Sure, there were some pockets here and there that wandered into the bistro for an easy breakfast, but when half the Wonderlanders spent their mornings working their (not so literal, in some cases) tails off, and when all the good alcohol was locked up tight until noon, a large sum of their profit came from the later hours of the day.

As such, the early hours of the day also tended to be the most generally boring, unless they made the joint decision to go out and use the prime upkeep time to pester the Alices or their fellow Wonderlanders. Which they did, admittedly. A lot. However, with the recent influx of the former, all that kicked aside work had crept up on the Tweedle Twins like some sort of drooling, slothlike beast. Or a Patchsnag. Probably a Patchsnag, if they had to put a beast to the description.

Monster comparisons aside, it was still a lot to get done. Indigo sat at one of the tables, head bowed over the checkbook and receipts and looseleaf paper scattered across the warm wood. Behind her, Percival was dutifully scanning the stock of booze, the ingredients, testing the instruments and appliances and whatnot. Everything that needed to be replaced or replenished, he quickly scribbled down, then moved onto whatever needed to be checked next.

“Okay,” Percival said after a few more rounds. With a grunt, he plopped down into the chair opposite Indigo, legs stretching out to rest on the table- then immediately slipping back down before his heels could even kiss the wood, clacking against the floor and settling there. Had just cleaned the thing, after all. “So. We’re almost out of riesling, and we’re running sorta low on the whiskey. Need to get our hands on some more honey, too.”

“Hmm.” Indigo glanced up at her brother out of the corner of her eye, then squinted at the mountains of paper before her. “Think we can cover that easy. Anything else?”

“Should probably brush up some on our chicken stock. And flour. Maybe a few more batches of eggs, but ‘sides from that, we’re actually doing pretty good supply-wise.” Percival stretched, bringing his arms high above his head, then letting them fall with a thunk. “How’s the cash?”

“No trouble there, either.” Indigo grinned. “Even with all the stuff we need, I’d say we’re still gonna have a nice little bit of extra spending money this season.” That was one of the upsides of Alices popping up- the inevitable boom in business that came with them. Not many knew what was safe to eat in Wonderland and what wasn’t, and there was usually at least a few with a taste for alcohol. A taste that seemed to only grow stronger with all the “weird shit” they saw- to quote one of their guests that had long since gone off to who-knows-where.

The two exchanged some customary hi-fives before settling back, working in tandem to clear the table, replace the mess with fresh sheets of paper, then set out to write the inventory requests.

It was the usual pace of things. Even with the appearance of the latest batch of Alices showing up to shake the boots off Wonderland (especially Eugene, who seemed particularly fixated on a certain blond), work still needed to be done. Life crawled on forward.

Even if both of them would’ve been happy to be doing literally anything else at the moment.

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

Ranch House

Dawn wasted little time in her reaction- a necessity, really, given how pressed of it they were to begin with, and how quickly the stranger had forced himself into their means of escape. In three deft motions she had slipped her hand into her bag, turned, and swung her pistol out and into the man’s face, muzzle held flush against his forehead.

“Put your hands on your head. Where we can see them.” In another, calmer time, perhaps she would have chuckled at her own statement. It was ripped straight from the pages of the withered novels she had found stuffed under mattresses, wrapped lovingly in plastic to protect it from the elements. But now, her lips were held in a thin, bloodless line, voice firm, raw panic clashing at her insides and working up her throat.

Internally, Dawn was aware that there was something oddly familiar about the stranger’s face- something vaguely unsettling that she couldn’t quite put a finger on- but she brushed aside the feeling for the time being. Trying to place a face was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not now.

Her attentions were stolen with Spire’s sudden dive into the garage, Hel in his arms. The end of her gun still trained on the stranger, Dawn moved to open one of the car doors, only to find Soren had already moved to do so. He moved calmly, picking Hel up and seating her beside Clockwork, buckling her in securely.

“Keep that on,” he instructed. His voice was remarkably gentle, kind for the circumstances, and, with both children secure, he slid back into his own spot, shutting the door behind him. “If you did truly come to help us, then we greatly appreciate it, young man.” Carefully, Soren pushed away one of the weapons that had edged dangerously close, frowning a little. “But I’m sure that you can understand our caution.”

Clockwork’s gaze was steady as ever, even as it moved from the chaos outside to that within the car itself. However, her hand found Soren’s almost instantly as he sat down, holding onto it as if the stability of the world itself depended on it. “You have quite the number of weapons, sir,” she noted idly. Then her eyes turned back to the outside world as the gunfire rang out, to her brother, and her fingers curled even tighter around her father’s.

@RabidPorcupine

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

@Rabidporcupine

Ranch House: Outskirts

The patch of shrubbery was hardly ideal, but it suited Gale’s purpose well- concealing him from the hungry eyes of the attackers, and allowing him a prime view of the happenings down below. His own gaze held a sort of idle fascination, as if he were watching some sort of sport. Chin cradled in his palms, lips pulled into a pout. It hadn’t taken him long to gather that this group didn’t want the Wanderers dead- if they did, then the leader could have easily run through with his tank, or reduce the house itself to a crater with one of the nukes he had displayed. No, whoever they were, they wanted the Wanderers breathing and laying at their feet, begging for mercy.

He was missing out on far more than he would like, but Gale knew better than to risk his neck in an unbalanced fight for the sake of a thrill. So he watched, and he waited, until a shout drew his attention from afar. A young man with a sloppy haircut, and the sort of light in his eyes that the ashlands were more than happy to strangle and snuff as soon as it got the chance. The impulse to lure him away and pluck those very eyes out of his skull flit through Gale’s head for a moment, but it was just a moment, his face remaining the picture of innocent curiosity. This curiosity was twisted into a look of concern more befitting of the situation as the man approached.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about what’s happening, sir,” he said, “other than the fact that it is my group down there that is under attack. They seem in desperate need of assistance, and I doubt that they’d harm you if it was given.” Gale cast another glance, just in time to see a collar being clamped around the throat of one Toby Schippers.
“I’m not aware of the reasoning behind the assault, either, but they seem remarkably well prepared.”

In a best case scenario, the Wanderers would escape to live another day. However, it seemed best to keep as many windows open as possible in the event that Gale was left without a home. Preparing for another day and whatnot.

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

@Rabidporcupine Woot! I'll try to reply as soon as I can. c:
As for the summon, I would say that if the weapon is completely material, then it would be effectively locked out of him being able to put it back, and he would be able to summon more. If it leans more on the artificial side, then it's likely it would disappear. Does that make any sense?