Neoklis found what he was searching for amongst the many tangled streets and alleys of the city, his search being relatively quick and only taking him a short distance from the harbour itself. Following one of the very few paved roads he had come across it had quickly lead him up a slight incline towards what he assumed was the governors square where whatever passed as their capital buildings would be situated. The guards in this part of the city were far more numerous and were each dressed in mostly fine armour and other adornments that made them stand out compared to the relative filth of the rest of the city. Reaching into his bag once more he rummaged passed the various items before withdrawing a slim and aged roll of parchment. Unfurling it he quickly read the faded finely scrawled handwriting, his eyes fondly lingering on the elaborate and well-penned marks. He had read the letter many times over the past few years whenever he had cared to remember things he often decided to forget, his eyes only briefly glancing across the majority of the content before they settled towards the very last few lines.
“Should you ever choose to return to my side then I will be waiting for you my dearest. I implore you with all of my heart to conclude whatever business tears you away from me with the upmost urgency before seeking passage across the vast Atlantic gulf that shall separate us. My father has recently purchased an estate in the city of New Orleans and I am to leave with him to start a new life, but shall always been watching the seas for you. Yours forever, Cécile Morisette.
He thought fondly back to his youth, to the months he had spent in France stealing the hearts of beautiful young maidens. Cécile had been his absolute favourite, a girl with as much passion and fire as he had possessed, being with her had always been an adventure. But like all of his past adventures it had come to an end sooner or later, his restlessness growing beyond control – he had left to make his way half way across the world and she had not come with him.
Tearing his eyes away from the letters he gazed up and around at the large square he now stood in. The governor’s residence was a short way away, a big square and lavish building, constructed from huge cut stone blocks. He was more interested in the building that lay just to the right of it, a large French flag hoisted and flying outside of the building. It was the French embassy and they would be able to tell him what he wanted to know about the Morisette family, where their estate was located and where he could find Cécile or her father. Rolling the letter up once more and carefully returning it to his bag he straightened his jacket out before walking brusquely and directly into the embassy.
Neoklis gazed out beyond the harbour and far out to sea, the breeze was refreshing but did little to assail the feelings of anger or depression that gripped him. The letter was crumpled in his left hand, his anger and what he had learnt driving him to screw it up and discard it into the surf, but at the last moment he had resisted the urge and now simply stood holding the letter and staring blankly at the horizon. He had learnt that the family had made it to New Orleans, however within mere weeks of arriving the household had been hit by a deadly illness that had killed not only Cécile and her father, but also all of her siblings and all of their servants. The estate apparently now lay abandoned deep in the bayou which had reclaimed the lands so quickly that there had been whispers of witchcraft and other foul dark magics. He stuffed the now crumpled letter into his bag after a few moments of straightening it out and rolling it up once more before he turned to make his way back into the town.
Blocking his path was a young boy who simply stood several paces away from him with piercing clear blue eyes that seemed to be staring practically right through him. The boy smiled sweetly as Neoklis met his gaze, perhaps a little too sweetly for his liking. As he was about to ask what the boy wanted the boy spoke almost as if he already knew what he was going to ask.
“Missus Marie may have de answers dat you seek” he said simply “but dey have probably been swallowed up by da bayou.”
Neoklis frowned and was about to ask how the boy knew what it was that he was going to ask about, but the boy simply smiled once more before turning and running away, pausing only for a moment to shout back that she would be at some café called Bonswa. A few moments later and he had disappeared into the crowd, not a single trace of him to be seen – just an enigma to him now, a fleeting memory that lingered at the edge of his mind.
Neoklis continued to frown as he gazed after the boy. How he had known about the questions that were rushing through his mind escaped him, but it was true that he had many questions now about this place and the cults that would no doubtedly be hidden just behind the surface pulling strings here and there. More importantly he wanted to know about the Morisette estate and what had really happened to cause the deaths of each and every man and women who had lived and worked there. His hand gripping protectively around the hilt of his blade Neoklis began to make his way back into the city to find this café, and more importantly this woman who could supposedly answer his questions.
It took him a single coin to learn the location of Café Bonswa, one of the many beggars in the city more than happy enough to trade the location for a pittance. As he entered the smoky café the eyes of several of its occupants lingered unhappily on him for more than a few moments, mostly freemen he guessed from their dark skin and relatively ragged appearance. His own eyes were drawn to a lone woman who was sat smoking at one of the many tables, her figure slim and her skin dark and smooth – several thick wisps of smoke travelled upwards and hung in the air above her dancing silently in an almost perpetual way. Wondering how to even begin the conversation he had in mind Neoklis simply threw all caution into the wind as he walked over to the table before he made sure he had her attention and began.
“Marie?” he asked with some level of certainty before introducing himself “I am Neoklis Cleggitt and I was told that you may be able to answer some questions I had about the bayou?”
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Ah noo! Dropping like flies! =p
Well it is of course up to you Silverwind Blade – but you should post and maybe talk about something, idk – maybe with his military/intelligence past he would have heard of or at least been involved in one of the same conflicts as Claire? Just an idea but would give you a talking point.
Your character would probably be all for going in and figuring out what is really happening and getting to the bottom of things?
Anyway just an idea as it is always saddens me when people have to drop out of an Rp because they can’t get into it.
I’m definitely sticking around and happy with the pace of the IC atm, looking forwards to actually getting there and reviling what is really going down with things.
Well it is of course up to you Silverwind Blade – but you should post and maybe talk about something, idk – maybe with his military/intelligence past he would have heard of or at least been involved in one of the same conflicts as Claire? Just an idea but would give you a talking point.
Your character would probably be all for going in and figuring out what is really happening and getting to the bottom of things?
Anyway just an idea as it is always saddens me when people have to drop out of an Rp because they can’t get into it.
I’m definitely sticking around and happy with the pace of the IC atm, looking forwards to actually getting there and reviling what is really going down with things.
I will maybe add up an appearance - that or in the next post become aweful descriptive about what Neoklis looks like :p
Just writing up a post now.
Just writing up a post now.
Claire listened and watched the feed on her AR glasses as more footage came through. She was surprised initially to see and hear that the buildings occupants were refugees rather than some criminal or foreign group like she had assumed, realising now that things would be a little more complicated than going in guns blazing and aggressively securing the facility. She listened as Alan explained to them the situation, that the refugees were refusing British forces access on the grounds that they were scared of being evicted and removed from the area. While on one hand she couldn’t blame them, wanting to get away from the chaos of the cities or the now remote and abandoned countryside – but she couldn’t help but wonder what on earth they were thinking, occupying a solar tower when there was a power blackout and refusing to allow engineers to access it. Through their selfishness they were denying power to countless of others, obviously ignorant to the bigger picture and the repercussions their actions were having.
She listened as Pathfinder spoke, suggesting that they send Winterbourne into the refugees to make sure that when they did move their key assets were out of the picture. It made sense to her, but why just stop with one man? In her mind it made sense to if possible get the majority of them on the inside before they struck, being able to coordinate a quick and hopefully ‘bloodless’ strike, removing whatever ‘leadership’ elements they had. Pathfinder continued to speak, suggesting that things would go much much easier if the refugees were being offered relocation and some medical care, but Clare had a sinking feeling that if the government was in a position to do that then they would have already tried to.
She decided not to voice her concerns, Alan would answer regarding that one soon enough she was sure. The man turned to her and asked “Ashia, you're our wheel-woman. Got anything that can fit all of us, or are we going to need to 'procure' something?”
She shrugged as she replied “Nothing parked out front if that’s what you mean” sounding a little shorter than she’d intended “but there is a rather appropriate looking bus at the station just through what’s left of the shopping centre across from the church.”
She thought for a few moments before she said “I think that we will probably be on our own for this mission” pausing for a few moments for Alan to either confirm or deny her suspicions “but I think that we would be best to get most of us inside their compound if we can. To strike all at once and try and incapacitate whatever leadership element they have. If their ‘boss’ is held and all the other key areas are locked off to them then they will have little choice. Once it’s all secure we get the boys with their uniforms and trucks to move in and start getting rid of these squatters?”
She looked at each of the team to see what they thought before adding “I mean if we could convince them all too just up and leave for the good of the country then that’d be wonderful, but people just don’t think as clearly as they should in these kind of situations. I’ve seen civilians just like this lot attacking armed men with nothing other than rocks and sticks, being gunned down by the hundreds when situations like this turn bad.”
Her mind flashed back to the Doha struggles, when the absolute monarchy of Qatar and its holdings had been systematically stripped down and purchased by a corporation fuelled and funded by the now vastly powerful Saudi Arabia. The entire country was blockaded and all supplies and provisions became rarer than life itself, people killing each other for scraps of food or anything that would lessen their suffering. The night after she had driven a supply truck through the blockade, a feat that was only possible due to the sacrifice of hundreds of young fighters, the following day the cooperate ‘army’ of mercenaries had moved to occupy the capital building in Doha itself.
Starving and angry people had attacked in the thousands almost before being driven back under a hail of fully automatic fire, blood and bodies filled the streets in what felt like only a few moments. She shuddered at the memory, and silently hoped that they were able to resolve the issue without any bloodshed.
She listened as Pathfinder spoke, suggesting that they send Winterbourne into the refugees to make sure that when they did move their key assets were out of the picture. It made sense to her, but why just stop with one man? In her mind it made sense to if possible get the majority of them on the inside before they struck, being able to coordinate a quick and hopefully ‘bloodless’ strike, removing whatever ‘leadership’ elements they had. Pathfinder continued to speak, suggesting that things would go much much easier if the refugees were being offered relocation and some medical care, but Clare had a sinking feeling that if the government was in a position to do that then they would have already tried to.
She decided not to voice her concerns, Alan would answer regarding that one soon enough she was sure. The man turned to her and asked “Ashia, you're our wheel-woman. Got anything that can fit all of us, or are we going to need to 'procure' something?”
She shrugged as she replied “Nothing parked out front if that’s what you mean” sounding a little shorter than she’d intended “but there is a rather appropriate looking bus at the station just through what’s left of the shopping centre across from the church.”
She thought for a few moments before she said “I think that we will probably be on our own for this mission” pausing for a few moments for Alan to either confirm or deny her suspicions “but I think that we would be best to get most of us inside their compound if we can. To strike all at once and try and incapacitate whatever leadership element they have. If their ‘boss’ is held and all the other key areas are locked off to them then they will have little choice. Once it’s all secure we get the boys with their uniforms and trucks to move in and start getting rid of these squatters?”
She looked at each of the team to see what they thought before adding “I mean if we could convince them all too just up and leave for the good of the country then that’d be wonderful, but people just don’t think as clearly as they should in these kind of situations. I’ve seen civilians just like this lot attacking armed men with nothing other than rocks and sticks, being gunned down by the hundreds when situations like this turn bad.”
Her mind flashed back to the Doha struggles, when the absolute monarchy of Qatar and its holdings had been systematically stripped down and purchased by a corporation fuelled and funded by the now vastly powerful Saudi Arabia. The entire country was blockaded and all supplies and provisions became rarer than life itself, people killing each other for scraps of food or anything that would lessen their suffering. The night after she had driven a supply truck through the blockade, a feat that was only possible due to the sacrifice of hundreds of young fighters, the following day the cooperate ‘army’ of mercenaries had moved to occupy the capital building in Doha itself.
Starving and angry people had attacked in the thousands almost before being driven back under a hail of fully automatic fire, blood and bodies filled the streets in what felt like only a few moments. She shuddered at the memory, and silently hoped that they were able to resolve the issue without any bloodshed.
Alright, well give me a little time to get things together and I can post a reboot Int/Ooc.
I’m taking part in a few other RPs atm, but hopefully I will still have enough time to balance things appropriately.
I will post a link here and send a PM when it hath been done!
I’m taking part in a few other RPs atm, but hopefully I will still have enough time to balance things appropriately.
I will post a link here and send a PM when it hath been done!
Thorin glanced up at the shabby apartment complex and the several others situated closely by to it. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that made him look up more than just the once. Moving through the apartment hallways he heard several very questionable noises for first thing in the morning, at least noises that he wouldn’t be wanting to make quite so early. As he neared their particular apartment a door in front of him opened up and a half rotted looking orc poked his head out before noticing Thorin and hurriedly slamming the door once more shut. Thorin didn’t want to guess what you had to shoot yourself up with to make bits of you start rotting and dropping off whilst you still walked around, but it could barely be worth whatever buzz or high you gained in the process.
The door to their little slice of this haven opened and he waltzed in he nodded in greeting to the others as he removed his sunglasses and glanced around. Lei Ne was sat at what would likely pass as their planning table, the only free space large enough to serve such a purpose. Red was only a short way beside her, the woman not looking quite as bad as he felt after the previous evenings events. The rigger was skulking at the edge of the artificial light, obviously preferring the darkness so having had set himself up in one of the few small side-rooms. That left quicksilver, the street samurai having clearly arrived a few moments before him, his helmet removed and what seemed like a grin on his face.
Thorin simply moved over to a free counter and began dumping the things he had brought with him and sorting through them. Food, alcohol and cigarettes he placed in a lower storage compartment built into the counter. His weapons he lay on the counter as he began to make sure they were all in fully functioning order, loading and unloading each of them and testing each moving part. As he did he occasionally looked over at the others, it seemed that Red was asking about the others, Thovren and Lei Ne. He listened as the rigger explained why he was hidden away, something about being allergic to the light. That had to make things more than a little difficult, he though ideally as he finished each of the checks he had wanted to. He turned to face the others as he leant against the counter before he lit up another cigarette, ready when the others were to get the specifics of their plan all figured out. Just that little mage fellow left to arrive, he mused as he waited.
The door to their little slice of this haven opened and he waltzed in he nodded in greeting to the others as he removed his sunglasses and glanced around. Lei Ne was sat at what would likely pass as their planning table, the only free space large enough to serve such a purpose. Red was only a short way beside her, the woman not looking quite as bad as he felt after the previous evenings events. The rigger was skulking at the edge of the artificial light, obviously preferring the darkness so having had set himself up in one of the few small side-rooms. That left quicksilver, the street samurai having clearly arrived a few moments before him, his helmet removed and what seemed like a grin on his face.
Thorin simply moved over to a free counter and began dumping the things he had brought with him and sorting through them. Food, alcohol and cigarettes he placed in a lower storage compartment built into the counter. His weapons he lay on the counter as he began to make sure they were all in fully functioning order, loading and unloading each of them and testing each moving part. As he did he occasionally looked over at the others, it seemed that Red was asking about the others, Thovren and Lei Ne. He listened as the rigger explained why he was hidden away, something about being allergic to the light. That had to make things more than a little difficult, he though ideally as he finished each of the checks he had wanted to. He turned to face the others as he leant against the counter before he lit up another cigarette, ready when the others were to get the specifics of their plan all figured out. Just that little mage fellow left to arrive, he mused as he waited.
Neoklis slowly strolled through the bustling streets of New Orleans, the packed dock area was filled with the sounds of countless fishermen, merchants, slaves and other assorted occupants of the city. As he moved over towards one of the many jetties that protruded into the deep green surf he removed a small ornate spyglass from the satchel that hung at his side, catching the eye of a few small slave boys who were sat sewing nets as he did so. Moving past them slightly he extended the spyglass and swiftly brought it up to his eye, gazing out into the harbour as the gulls above him cawed hungrily.
It took him only a few moments to see what he was looking for, a ragged mast barley protruding from the relatively calm sea draped with what was now a very tatty and mostly destroyed Spanish flag.
“Qué demonios estás haciendo aquí mi amigo?” “What the hell are you doing here my friend?” he said quietly to himself. When he had heard he almost didn’t believe that a Spanish ship had simply sailed into the harbour and sunk itself, seemingly no crewmen on board. Neoklis thought for a few moments longer before he lowered the spyglass and returned it to his bag. He doubted strongly that this would have been anything ordered by the Spanish, seeing as they had given up their claims to New Orleans many years ago – plus the ship hadn’t actually done anything aside from create a colossal mess for the harbourmaster to deal with.
Turning away from the gentle waves he dismissed the entire event as likely a failed scuppering by pirates or the like and maybe a desperate attempt by any remaining crewmembers to return to land. He was sure if there was some ‘secret’ bid to take New Orleans than his good friend and Governor of Havana Emanuel de Latour would have told him about anything of the sort before he had departed the isle to come to New Orleans. As he walked back through the busy streets he let his mind wander back slightly through his time in the Caribbean and the many good evenings he had enjoyed as a result of his contacts throughout Europe. All it had taken was a small gift here and a word of advice there to convince each of the various factions that he secretly had their best interests at heart – allowing him to be friends with French, Spanish and British alike. The Governor of Havana had proved to be one of his closest allies, the pair spending much time together speaking, drinking and generally enjoying the privileges that wealth brings. Neoklis had in return provided him with several small trinkets from across the world as well as the name of several men in his employ who were actually working for the British and attempting to undermine him.
He had also eliminated a few local opponents of his, something that Neoklis would not have normally done if the pair hadn’t ‘clicked’ together so well, and if the Governor hadn’t provided him with an almost staggering amount of wealth. Neoklis was actually now a landowner in several countries, a feat that he would never have quite imagined possible. He had vineyards in Sardinia that produced some very fine wines, farms near Morocco that grow lemons, figs and many other things - and now a plantation on Cuba that grows both tobacco and sugar. It amazed him how much little effort he needed to put into things, the general running of the establishments being dealt with by those who technically worked for him, but more realistically worked for those who had gifted him the land. He wasn’t concerned overly either way though, as long as the profits continued to be available to him when he needed them then he was satisfied to leave the details to others.
Neoklis continued to let his mind wander as he explored more of the city’s streets, oblivious to the impending doom which was rapidly approaching.
It took him only a few moments to see what he was looking for, a ragged mast barley protruding from the relatively calm sea draped with what was now a very tatty and mostly destroyed Spanish flag.
“Qué demonios estás haciendo aquí mi amigo?” “What the hell are you doing here my friend?” he said quietly to himself. When he had heard he almost didn’t believe that a Spanish ship had simply sailed into the harbour and sunk itself, seemingly no crewmen on board. Neoklis thought for a few moments longer before he lowered the spyglass and returned it to his bag. He doubted strongly that this would have been anything ordered by the Spanish, seeing as they had given up their claims to New Orleans many years ago – plus the ship hadn’t actually done anything aside from create a colossal mess for the harbourmaster to deal with.
Turning away from the gentle waves he dismissed the entire event as likely a failed scuppering by pirates or the like and maybe a desperate attempt by any remaining crewmembers to return to land. He was sure if there was some ‘secret’ bid to take New Orleans than his good friend and Governor of Havana Emanuel de Latour would have told him about anything of the sort before he had departed the isle to come to New Orleans. As he walked back through the busy streets he let his mind wander back slightly through his time in the Caribbean and the many good evenings he had enjoyed as a result of his contacts throughout Europe. All it had taken was a small gift here and a word of advice there to convince each of the various factions that he secretly had their best interests at heart – allowing him to be friends with French, Spanish and British alike. The Governor of Havana had proved to be one of his closest allies, the pair spending much time together speaking, drinking and generally enjoying the privileges that wealth brings. Neoklis had in return provided him with several small trinkets from across the world as well as the name of several men in his employ who were actually working for the British and attempting to undermine him.
He had also eliminated a few local opponents of his, something that Neoklis would not have normally done if the pair hadn’t ‘clicked’ together so well, and if the Governor hadn’t provided him with an almost staggering amount of wealth. Neoklis was actually now a landowner in several countries, a feat that he would never have quite imagined possible. He had vineyards in Sardinia that produced some very fine wines, farms near Morocco that grow lemons, figs and many other things - and now a plantation on Cuba that grows both tobacco and sugar. It amazed him how much little effort he needed to put into things, the general running of the establishments being dealt with by those who technically worked for him, but more realistically worked for those who had gifted him the land. He wasn’t concerned overly either way though, as long as the profits continued to be available to him when he needed them then he was satisfied to leave the details to others.
Neoklis continued to let his mind wander as he explored more of the city’s streets, oblivious to the impending doom which was rapidly approaching.
Ah yes, good character. I’m definitely happy to say that Neoklis would have been heard of – a newcomer entering the theatre, meeting and greeting with and schmoozing the governor of one or more places. I will have my into post up today if all goes to plan and will make sure to provide enough ‘general’ info about what he has being doing in the Caribbean and what not.
Hey we made it into the guild news - the noticable roleplay for casual.
Nice post. Things just became complex - I like complex.
@Silverwind Blade – Yeah I’ve never been to an airshow. Should hopefully going to the one at Farnborough this yeah though. Should be pretty awesome.
Unemployment is lame (though I admit I always love the free time :p) but good luck with finding something, sadly money is needed for things.
@Silverwind Blade – Yeah I’ve never been to an airshow. Should hopefully going to the one at Farnborough this yeah though. Should be pretty awesome.
Unemployment is lame (though I admit I always love the free time :p) but good luck with finding something, sadly money is needed for things.
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