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Elaine is [OPEN] for a relationship and a significant other, but given that they'd be pretty limited to her boarding school and also a teenager we'd have to work out how it is manageable that they are coming along and such. GM's might have valuable input on that point. Just putting that out there.

Also, let's work out these relationships STAT. I'm usually online so I'm good for PM or IM stuff.
@Undine
Can you actually delete or move other users posts? I'm pretty unfamiliar with the extent of GMly powers on this site...

No. And if a mod were to delete it, it could fudge up the page order as it has in the past.
I mean, edits could be made. But I am just now heading to bed...

#Sawwy



Took me some time, but I got my own post up— sorry if you anticipated something grander. =)
S i r I G N A T I U S

C A M E L O T - O U T S K I R T S



It had been a long stretch back to Camelot, that much was for certain.

Ignatius had been traveling back from a several skirmishes along the eastern stretches of Britannia. The settlement of the area by Anglo-Saxon’s had been nearly a century old at this point and Camelot feared that it was organizing in what could become a dangerous precedent. Ignatius was known to be quick enough and familiar enough with rough terrain, though the more he stayed in Britannia the more he thought the people who were his new superiors just simply viewed him as an alien who was expendable in purpose. Though, whether he was an expendable Roman or not he did return with results more often than not— and this case was no different. Camelot’s concerns were no doubt sources in the realm of truth regarding the province of what they called East Anglica. The pagan Anglo-Saxon’s of the area had overwhelmed the Brythonic natives and have set up a petty kingdom under their leader whom they identified as King Wehha of the East Angles. Ignatius preferred to gather more information, but his reputation as a Roman serving King Arthur was one likely to get him identified and killed if he became overconfident in his task.

But now, with Camelot in the distance he could feel confident of his return— though he wasn’t sure what the Knights of the Round were going to do about the news he would be bringing to their attention. The concentration of an Anglo-Saxon kingdom was dangerous, but as far as Ignatius could tell they hadn’t enacted any form of oppressive ideal or vicious declaration of eradicating the native Britons— they had just created a Kingdom where they had the strongest attribution to do so. But then again, the bordering vassals and allies King Arthur Pendragon held might have held a far different perspective than he. After all, the conflict with the migrating Saxons against the Normans and Britons wasn’t inherently new— blood had been spilled aplenty over it and it would be likely blood would be spilled again. Taking a light breath, Ignatius smiled as he rode forward and making for the gates; thinking on the bloody past was unimportant without knowing what Knight-Regent Lancelot was going to do with the information.

However, as he entered the city he was stopped by a passing emissary by the name of Iorwerth— a man ten years his junior, but in times of peril he had encountered before.

“Sir Ignatius!”

“Sir Iorwerth? Are you well?”

Iorwerth’s expression and posture were faint, which was something Ignatius noticed from the emissary— he was clearly overwhelmed and fatigued. But why? What was going on? Ignatius looked away from the man for a moment to see if there was anything imperative going on around them that could be fault of such exhaustion. But there was nothing— a peculiarity that worried him.

“Yes. I am just in a hurry to the stables— myself and the other emissaries of our lord have been requested to send out imperative messages to reach knights pledged to Camelot. The knight-regent has sent out a message for them to come to Camelot with staunch precedence and clear immediacy. I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be dawdling. My apologies and good tidings.”

“I see. Be well and safe.” Ignatius responded back before Iorwerth could pass him.

A staunch precedence and clear immediacy.

The words repeated in Ignatius’ mind, his step increasing in speed as he continued to his destination. He already had to report to Lancelot following his quest that he was assigned, but to hear that something of such importance had occurred that Lancelot had to call so many others to Camelot in a state of what seemed like peril was worrying. His curiosity and anxiety piqued he made sure he would get to Lancelot before day’s end if he could help it— after all this call to arms of sorts was relevant to Ignatius just as much as any other as he had faithfully served since he had immigrated to Britannia following his incidents in his past. What in the name of god had happened?

He didn’t know, but he was damn well sure he was going to find out.

I just hope some of the people I want to write with get their sheets in on time. D:


Prologue: Speed Demon
New York City, United States -- Office of Dr. Margaret Dillon
May 2nd, 2016


“The laughter becomes demonic, distorting like it is being put through some sort of filter until it just becomes screeching dissonance. The world dulls like it is in slow motion and everything feels heavy— I’m running… I’m trying to move as fast as I can, but… I’m only moving slower. I need to move faster, but I can’t no matter how hard I try. I can hear their screams underneath it all, crying out for me as they get father and farther away. I reach out… I can’t breathe— and then it stops. They’re dead. I don’t want to be alive. And then I see a twisted, demonic face— the glimmer of my own face in the reflection of its eyes… and then I wake up.”

I’ve always been told therapy was supposed to be good for you, but as far as I can tell it just makes things worse. Out of all the things I thought would help, this is probably in the top ten worst ideas I’ve had in 2016— actually, I’m pretty sure it’s the #2 slot. Challenging a Kryptonian to a fistfight is pretty hard to be beat in terms of ideas that I did not really think through in all fairness. But I digress.

The office of Dr. Margaret Dillon is quiet, save for the occasional scribble of a pen on paper as I relive my nightmares and express my “feelings” about said nightmares. What does she think I’m going to feel about these nightmares, anyway? I’m not going to suddenly think these nightmares are a “good development of my character that allows me to cope with what has transpired in my life” or anything; they are objectively terrible reflections of my thoughts and desires; it’s not really all that complicated. But my friends told me it was a good idea and since Ollie’s parents decided to put money down on this first visit I’m kind of trapped here for another… five minutes. Great.

Yeah, I’m not all too convinced this is a particular productive waste of my time and energy, especially considering I could be stopping a bank robbery or intrepid car chase through downtown Queens. Which, in all honestly, has been happening a bit more frequently considering we’re still rebuilding after the Kryptonian Invasion. But with all the money the mega-corporations are putting into the city to get us back to some semblance of “normal” within the month. Midtown High says they’ll be re-opening their doors in a few weeks, though that also means that finals and graduation will be pushed a few weeks as well. I can just hear Flash Thompson’s whining about it now.

“How often do you get this nightmare?”

How about every month for the last year? I sigh, “Pretty much every month since it happened.”

“I see.”

“I’m not sure if talking about it is helping.”

The words kind of slip out of my mouth. Though I try not to make a fuss about it, I think I’ve heard “I see” enough for one day. If therapy is supposed to be a conversation about how to tackle my repressed feelings and regrets, then my therapist sure has a funny way of responding to it. I know she’s not quite the cartoon therapist from the movies I’m writing her off as, but I have this strong feeling that some non-answer to try to keep me doing these sessions will be her next reply.

“Therapy is a process, Mr. Parker. We can only accept our reality if we are willing to take the time to.”

Ding. Should have put money on that one.

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s about all the time we have for today— though I hope to see you for a second one.”

Well, of course you do— that’s how you make the big bucks. Regardless of how I feel, I give her a nod before I step up from the chair and make my way to the door. I’m not sure if I’m wrong about this therapy thing or not, but she deserves at least some acknowledgement even if this is her job. I want to hope that she did some good here even if I’m some kind of cynic. I give a faint smile and turn back at her before opening the door.

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Dillon.”

I take a huge breath as I finally take my exit— the door closing behind me, I take a wave at the next kid in line for an appointment. I manage to half-remark before I exit the building. “Good luck.”

It’s a little funny when I think about it. He’s only in for an appointment to talk about his issues, but I have a responsibility to attend to— maybe I should be saying good luck to myself. God knows I'm going to need it.

I’m currently working on getting the debut post of Superman up, but it might take me a few hours to iron out a good rough draft. I was considering just cutting & pasting my sample from my Superman application that I designed for New Frontier but as I look at it… it really doesn’t work. I thought it might, but after looking at it I’ve changed my mind. There will be things I touch on that are very similar to that sample, but that’s about it.
With me working on several games, I'll be posting on this one this week.
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