Jinxer

A future far divided

"So even Starkey admits to Elizabeth's faults... interesting." Julius was muttering to himself, surrounded in his study by mountains of books. Most of them were closed but coloured pieces of paper stuck out from several pages; bookmarks for useful information and references. Around him on his large desk were multiple open tomes with the one he was currently reading by his left side, kept open with soft pressure from his left hand while his right scratched away furiously with a fountain pen on an A4 pad. Somewhere in the building a bell rang, denoting the end of another session and soon the corridor outside was full of voices and the sounds of movement.

His concentration interrupted, Julius quickly scribbled down a note on a yellow piece of paper and stuck it to the outside of the page he had been scanning before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. The long hours of hunching over the desk had started a dull ache in his back so he decided it was time to get out of the musty study and out for some fresh air. After all, he mused, long hours of strain on the brain reduced efficiency while being surrounded by a natural environment with plants and living things enhanced one's concentration span.

It wasn't long before he had found a need for sustenance and left the university campus, heading into town in search of a properly made cup of tea (or a 'brew' as he liked to call it) and some quickly edible lunch. As he crossed Times Square he started to feel drowsy and he began to pay less attention to his surroundings.

The next thing Julius knew was he was lying on a beach, staring up at an unfamiliar sky with oddly pink clouds.

"Did... I just fall asleep and get a train to the beach?" His brain was feeling a little fuzzy, as if he'd been on an extremely extravagant night out on the town. With a groan he pushed himself to his feet and looked around to find himself not alone on the alien, in apparently more ways than one, beach. He did not recognise any of the others, neither from his past life or immediately from his last remembered experience in Times Square.

After summing up the courage, for he was ever the introvert at heart, to trudge over to someone, a woman, he greeted them with a nervous half-wave and an awkward, lop-sided smile.

"Erm, hello? I don't suppose you happen to know where we are? That might sound like an odd question... but last I remember I was in Times Square. I don't think there was anything in my tea..." Realising that he was babbling, Julius rubbed the back of his head in a nervous gesture he had picked up years ago and bobbed his head in place of a more formal greeting. "My name's Julius. I'm a PhD student at the university."

Guardians Rising

I'll have an OOC with sign ups put up later today so get thinking on those characters!

The Curse of the Crown [1 OPEN spot]

@RPforthatPR

Triumphantilism is unnecessary.

Guardians Rising

@Takashi

They'd begin knowing about their ability with a catalyst already forged/constructed.

This is largely to save time on a slow intro process and simply jump right in. The characters might know one another although they equally might not.

Homicide Investigations (A Mystery Detective RP)

@Giant

No worries, I fully understand that one. Been there, done that etc.

Guardians Rising

Shiny. Glad to have you on board!

I want to see if there are any additions people would like to make before I post this in the main thread so I want to get as much interest and contributions as possible in the next few days.

A future far divided

I know you said to use the other thread for the OOC but as it's in the interest check section I thought it made more sense to post here?

Character Name: Julius Henry
Age: 24
Profession: Student (Doctorate)

Background: From Britain originally but studying his doctorate in the US to broaden his knowledge from British-centric history. Lived alone in a flat knowing very few people in the US; had a few friends but largely spent his time working furiously towards his PhD. Works part time as an archivist in a university campus library, meaning he spends pretty much his entire life in one.

Description: 5'10", 170lbs. His hair is a platinum blond colour, appearing white in most lights, and is in fact his natural hair colour. He is clean shaven almost all the time, finding even short facial hair to be uncomfortable. Julius dresses simply with deep blue jeans, unmarked, and a varying mix of shirts with large chequered patterns, usually of a white background with varying shades of blue or green lines. When colder weather strikes he has a knee-length black wool and cashmere great coat but generally eschews jumpers and other warmer garments as he finds he overheats even in mild weather.

His eyes are stormy grey colour, warm and friendly but always considering things around him in a thoughtful way which can make him appear to be dazed or inattentive. He has a strong build, athletic but not wildly muscular. Although he spends little time in the gym itself he will often go cycling or jogging for leisure and plays badminton competitively and swims with the team at the university although he does not have the ability to compete.

Guardians Rising

Guardians Rising

They say that everyone has 'a gift'. Usually that means a talent for art or maths or high-jumping. It's what a teacher or a parent says to a despondent student or child, frustrated at their lack of drive or self-esteem they resort to this tired-out phrase. "You have a gift." They will say, emphasis on the 'gift' as if it is some mysterious, elusive thing. Yet everyone has had this said to them at some time or other.

I was told I had 'a gift for science' whatever the hell that means. Chemistry? Biology? Physics? What kind of Physics? It is such a boring, vague term; deliberately so. If it turns out the child just turned out to be talentless the parents and teachers could console themselves; the child still had 'a gift' but it was simply not on par with the 'gifts' of others. What nonsense.

I tell you now, though, that I have a gift. No, not a run-of-the-mill talent. I'm not even good at the 400m. But I have a true, honest-to-God, unique gift. And a lot of people my age do. Unlike anyone before us and maybe everyone after us as well, who knows? The scientists are just as dumbfounded as us for it might as well be magic. All they know is that something in us different. It sounded too complex to me so I switched off, guess I don't have 'a gift' for science after all.

But my real Gift? Maybe you'll see it one day. God only knows, I hope that day doesn't come. But something tells me it will and the fun and games will be over. But don't worry, I'll protect you. Because I have the Gift.

- From the journal of Captain Jacob Horn.

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Guardian Rising is an RP based in the modern world, starting in September 2014. This will be based in the UK (largely due to my familiarity with their school system for the premise, nothing more). It is not a super-human RP per-se; those with the Gift have a singular ability reliant on them wielding a very specific catalyst.

-The catalyst must be forged by the Guardian (one with a Gift) in a traditional method (without machinery) and must be a melee weapon.

-A Gift is an ability that relies on the catalyst the Guardian has forged. It can only be used with that catalyst and there can only be one catalyst at a time, with very few exceptions where there are two. A Gift can be an ability such as increasing the range of a bladed weapon swing to increasing one's own physical strength; from the catalyst seeking out a target's heart with unerring accuracy to a blade that can cut through anything.

-The Guardians are organised like a military division with non-commissioned officers. All officers above the rank of Captain are older soldiers drafted in from regular divisions to command the youths if necessary. No one, however, expects the Guardians to have to fight. The military training is merely to examine their abilities in a set environment and provided a defensive force should another nation present an offensive one,

-The catalysts are locked up without fail and never leave the compounds where they are stored under maximum security.

-The Guardians will attend school as per normal and are told not to disclose their membership of the semi-secret division to others. There are rumours but, by and large, most Guardians stick to this rule. Those who do not are often expelled from the ranks due to not taking their Gift seriously enough.

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As you may have guessed this RP will not be a peaceful one. It will be presenting difficult challenges and situations to youths entirely unprepared for the situation they are presented with and seeing many they know not surviving through them.

Any questions/thoughts/additions? This is a rough structure I thrashed out with multiple ideas running through my head so I may need to tidy it up and clarify sections.

Homicide Investigations (A Mystery Detective RP)

@Giant

I'll PM you some info on the 'husband and daughter' in the next few days for your next post.

Anyone else - feel free to post!

Homicide Investigations (A Mystery Detective RP)

"I guess there'll always be cops like that around." Rhiannon said, answering Enrique's description of the desk officer. Even across the pond it seemed like things were pretty much the same; a few cops trying their best to make the city they worked in a better place, a few on the dole from the bigger fish who always escaped the nets and those who turned up for work hoping to get through the day as quickly as possible. Sadly the former group were the least numerous and rarely did their enthusiasm and passion survive for long before giving way to cynicism and defeatism like those around them.

She noticed that Enrique had opened one of the windows, presumably finding the temperature of her car too high. She flicked a few switches, turning the air con to face only the driver and turning off his heated seat. "Sorry, I'm still used to British temperatures. It rains a hell of a lot but it's not nearly as cold as here, even in the dead of winter." She spun the wheel to the right, pressing down on the clutch as she shifted into a higher gear before hitting the accelerator a bit harder. The engine roared throatily as the car shot forwards smoothly and without the jerkiness of lesser cars; she had always enjoyed the smooth transition between luxury road car into sports speedster that her BMW represented. It had come in a handy a few times as well, when the traffic in London wasn't completely gridlocked that was.

"It's the same in a lot of places. Back home I worked in the Serious Crime Unit but that mostly just meant homicides. Any whiff of a serial anything and the landed on our desks too. Arson, rape, murder. Just about anything that looked to be the start of the spree and we were the ones to get to the bottom of it. I've seen my share of humanity's dark side and I'm glad to get down to some more garden variety murders. It'll be a holiday from the work I'm used to but at least I can still give closure and justice for the victims." As they entered a tunnel the sound of the engine echoed in the nearly empty space, rebounding endlessly until it sounded like a pack of mechanical lions was powering them back into the morning light.

Enrique began speaking again but stopped short of revealing... something. The half-hearted question and the lack of mention from where he had been before suggested to her there was some back story there but seeing as they were only just starting out as partners it would not be prudent to pry, Rhiannon decided. Sometimes it's hard for a cop to turn off. I guess that's why so many of the vets are divorced.

He directed her off the highway and she shifted down a gear, spinning the wheel sharply. The nose of the car complied swiftly, shooting them down the exit ramp with no drama at all, the roar of the engine dulling into a low growl as it retreated back into a leisurely pace. There were no other cars, everyone from this kind of neighbourhood would have already travelled into the city centre for their identical office jobs; a perfect match for their identical houses and eerily similar housewives. Rhiannon wondered whether that was why there always so many affairs in this kind of district; did they just mix up the houses and faces and only realise later they were in the wrong bed with the wrong woman or man?

"I'll just turn around up here, there's no rush." She said, mulling over what to reveal to her fellow detective. The obvious reason was trauma but that would hardly foster much in the way of expectation from a leader, no matter how experienced. "I guess it's more common for you and the Americans to exchange staff. I have family out here and the London job was getting a bit... weary. This place is tiny compared to back there and far less corrupt; mostly because it's not quite so rich. I think I'll be able to cope with a little bit of dirt." Her words were meant as a mild reproof for his patronising words, whether they were well meant or not. As a woman she had had to cope with disrespect, whether intentional or not, everywhere in her chosen career and had learned to deal with it in a measured way.

The BMW slid gracefully to a stop just outside the house, two official police cruisers outside with lights flashing. One of the cops was sitting in the car with the door open while in the other were two civilians, a man approaching middle age and his young daughter, who were presumably witnesses or family members to the deceased. Enrique apparently knew the officer in the first vehicle, heading over to talk to him. Rhiannon took her time, observing the area and trying to get a feel for what kind of neighbourhood it was. All she managed to get was a sense of plain; there was no character whatsoever to the place. It was a bit numbing.

Enrique returned, his face a little paler and his speech less sure as he gave her an update before asking what their next step would be. That was the first major show he had made in accepting her leadership and it pleased Rhiannon that her experience was giving credibility to her position.

"We go in, Detective. Gloves on." She replied, handing him a pair of blue gloves before striding towards the porch, pulling her own pair on as she did so. The officer at the door also looked slightly queasy but managed to nod a greeting before pushing the door open. "Where's the ME?" Rhiannon asked the officer who shook his head.

"Inside, ma'am. Not sure with which bit of the body though."

Ah.

The Crime Scene

Rhiannon was beginning to get a sense of why these supposedly veteran officers were all looking shaken and ill. Steeling herself she pushed on into the house, stopping short to observe the wood-floored hallway. It was wide and open, a staircase directly ahead wide enough for two people abreast like a cut-price grand staircase. It had a landing on the first floor which led into corridors on both the left and right. The ground floor had three doors leading from it, one on either side and a small door at the rear. The place had a feeling of attempted class, trying to show wealth and power but on a small budget and miniature-size.

Hearing sounds of movement from the room to the right she headed towards the doorway, stepping around a red splatter on the ground marked with a yellow sign with the number sixteen upon it. It was very rare for those signs to go into double digits which concerned her.

Inside the living room a woman; pale, brunette and looking to be in her late thirties wearing uniform scrubs; was kneeling on a once cream-coloured rug now splattered with a deep red-brown colour. A stony-faced assistant was stood in a half-crouch next to her holding an open evidence bag open for her. At the sounds of footsteps they both looked up, the assistant apparently relieved at the distraction.

"Detective, you got her quick." The woman had a hint of an accent, the softness usually denoting someone who spoke a tongue like French as their first or dual-first language, but still spoke with matter-of-fact tone suggesting she had been in the job for quite some time. Rhiannon nodded a greeting, joining her by the body part they were studying. It was the lower arm and hand of a white woman, pale with a slight hint of blueness. Glancing at the blood stain Rhiannon noted the darkness of the colour.

"Rhiannon Jones, pleasure to meet you, Doctor." She said, pressing on the carpet and observing the stain. "I'm guessing we don't have a particularly accurate time of death yet?" She spoke with experience and the ME raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.

"Guess you didn't just come up from patrol then, huh?" The ME gestured to the dismembered arm, pointing to the ring on the finger. "I won't be able to give you much until we're back in the morgue but the victim's a white female, Caucasian. One of the patrolmen has the statements but I can tell you that this was all done post-mortem." Rhiannon looked up, a little surprised.

"But she's been dead for a while, right? Judging by the colour of the blood and the corpse..." She trailed off as the ME raised an eyebrow at the interruption but still looked mildly impressed.

"It's difficult to tell because of the rapid loss of blood but I can give you a rough time of death of about... three to four days. Once I get the body together and on a slab I can give you more information. As for cause of death... I haven't found that particular body part yet. I don't have an identity yet but it seems likely to be the wife of the house owner, out in the cruiser with his little daughter."

"Alright, thanks. Let me know once you've got something more." Turning to Enrique she gestured that they leave the room and the ME to do her job. Once out in the cold, fresh air she exhaled heavily; letting the tension out of her body. "Your friend was right, this is a nasty one. I'll take a look around at the rest of the house in a minute. Why don't you start by talking to the the house owner and his daughter?"

She turned to go back into the house, pausing for a moment to offer a brief piece of advice.

"With homicides... just treat them like any other case. Only the motives are different. Don't give them any more details than they need to know, let them give up as much information as possible. And remember, we don't know the victim's identity yet, it might not be his wife. Probably is though." With that she went back in the bloodbath of the house with a thoughtful expression.