@Morose Aww, my little Evil GM Lord... How that post brings a tear to my eye. ~bows her head in respect~
I learned from the best <3
Morose Member
✨Krakoan Prince✨
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7 yrs ago
My power grows exponentially each day as we come nearer to Halloween.
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I learned from the best <3
@BlueSky44 @Lady Amalthea @Sohtem @Witch Cat @Pundii @Pirouette @hagroden
Hey guys. This is a reminder that you need to get a post in every seven days. Given that I was traveling all week and wasn't around as much/able to update as frequently, I'm making a one time exception for anyone over the seven day limit. There will not be any further exceptions to this rule unless you contact me via PM or by mentioning me here in this thread. Your characters will face a gruesome death if/when you exceed the post limit next.
I don't want to be mean about this, but we need people to post in order to advance the story. Some characters are waiting for others to post. The longer you take to post, the longer it takes others to post. I'm extending the post limit time for this round to Tuesday evening, in order to accommodate people for my own busyness this week and the holiday weekend for those of you in the states. If you have a counter of over 7 days still Tuesday evening, your character will be killed off.
If you have any questions, you can contact me over PM. Again, this is a one time exception, so do not get used to this. Many of you are currently at 5 or 6 days on your counter, so you need to post. There won't always be an Altsoba and Media Update before you need to post next. You can contact me to ask for a random event, or you can write a dream sequence, a flashback, narrate something, anything, basically.
We're at the center of the apocalypse, and you've been (hopefully) reading the posts and events your other players have found. There's plenty of material here to work with, so there's no excuse.
Thanks for reading this speech, hopefully I won't have to post this again. :)
Morose
Hey guys. This is a reminder that you need to get a post in every seven days. Given that I was traveling all week and wasn't around as much/able to update as frequently, I'm making a one time exception for anyone over the seven day limit. There will not be any further exceptions to this rule unless you contact me via PM or by mentioning me here in this thread. Your characters will face a gruesome death if/when you exceed the post limit next.
I don't want to be mean about this, but we need people to post in order to advance the story. Some characters are waiting for others to post. The longer you take to post, the longer it takes others to post. I'm extending the post limit time for this round to Tuesday evening, in order to accommodate people for my own busyness this week and the holiday weekend for those of you in the states. If you have a counter of over 7 days still Tuesday evening, your character will be killed off.
If you have any questions, you can contact me over PM. Again, this is a one time exception, so do not get used to this. Many of you are currently at 5 or 6 days on your counter, so you need to post. There won't always be an Altsoba and Media Update before you need to post next. You can contact me to ask for a random event, or you can write a dream sequence, a flashback, narrate something, anything, basically.
We're at the center of the apocalypse, and you've been (hopefully) reading the posts and events your other players have found. There's plenty of material here to work with, so there's no excuse.
Thanks for reading this speech, hopefully I won't have to post this again. :)
Morose
@PlatinumSkink I'll post after you :)
Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway
Location: Outside the School ---> Inside the Gym
For the first time in her life, Tuesday was late to high school.
Her credit cards for the flight had been declined, as they had finally been maxed out. She considered selling her degree, but in the end, she had to settle for selling what remained of her stash of cocaine. Of course, before doing that, she had to honor it, to remember it, to properly say goodbye. As of such, Tuesday had spent the morning high, laughing too hard at Spongebob and the Fairly Odd Parents and the other shows she recalled from her childhood.
Once she had sobered up a bit, she sold what was left, and managed to get a stand-by spot on a flight to Indiana. She had been stuck between a screaming man and a way too chubby woman. Together, they served to make her headaches and urges only worse, as she wanted nothing more than to smoke a joint. It was hard for her to even recall why she thought going to the reunion was a good idea. Everyone there would know that Chloe Ridgeway, one of the smartest girls in school, was a felon.
She'd be lucky if they didn't try to throw her out for their own protection.
After her plan landed, the next issue was the matter of the taxi. She had spent all of her cash on the plane flight, broke, and unable to afford anything else, unless she wanted to sell her ticket back to California. So Tuesday did what any sensible, former criminal, would do.
She hitchhiked, doing slight "favors" and "rewards" for anyone who could get her closer to Grimm. By the time the last driver let her out in front of the school, she couldn't help but laugh, wondering what her uptight parents would say. They had loved her far more than they loved Riley--and yet, she was the fuck up. She was the one who served time, while Riley was an international success. Her sister's fame had proved helpful in prison. Whenever she was in a tight spot, she'd promise to get the other inmates VIP passes to one of Riley's concerts.
They didn't know that Tuesday and her sister hardly talked.
Opening the doors to the main gym, Tuesday tried to shake off the labels society had smacked on her as she entered. Remembering how it was to be one of the brightest people in the school, Tuesday walked in confidently, smoothing the cardigan she had purchased at Goodwill for two dollars. Glancing around, Tuesday frowned a bit.
This isn't what these things are supposed to look like... She grimaced, remembering the last thing that had failed to live up to expectations: the night of prom. She joined the group that had gathered around Jacob, hearing what sounded like a temper tantrum.
"What, has someone else died?" Tuesday joked, completely clueless, looking at the grim faces, and catching a bit of Jacob recounting an alibi. "Come on, that's so ten years ago..."
@Lady Amalthea Gotcha. I'll do that first then. :)
@Morose You are good to go! So glad to have you here!!! Move her over to the CS tab and join in the fun soon as you want. ^^
Awesome! :D I'll have a post up soon! So glad to be in this!
Cecily Ashworth
Location: Wallace's Office and Other Areas of the Building
Finishing dealing with Danica's case uploads, Cecily sat back in her chair, and took a few calming breaths. Back at Carnegie Mellon, during their orientation session, they had taught all of the students relaxation techniques. It was called purposeful procrastination. Cecily quickly deduced, however, it was to save the university money by having less students need to see a counselor for anxiety issues.
In a brief minute, she found herself centered, and she stepped away from her work. It was her nature to assume the absolute worst case scenario, hence why she didn't chase after the woman. It also explained why she sent the recorded testimony to both Gregory and Riley: she assumed that someone would come back to finish the job. In Cecily's mind, another shooter could turn up at any moment, and this time, perhaps the bullet wouldn't miss.
"We need to canvas the area and look for other witnesses," Cecily instructed herself. Hardly anyone turned up to work on Saturdays, as with the insane work hours, people tended to not come in if they didn't have to. Wallace was no exception to that rule. She searched the building, her hands shaking mildly from the altercation.
At the end of the hallway, she found the janitor.
"Did you see a blonde woman run off with a gun?" Cecily asked.
The janitor stared at her as if she were crazy. "Girl, the only blonde women I see in this joint are the stiffs. And yourself."
Cecily nodded, her shoulders slumping a bit, as she moved on. Eventually, she found a few of the newer members of the forensics team, fresh college graduates. They had a more predictable reaction when she questioned them--they began to scream, instantly pulling for their phones to text their mothers.
"Secure the crime scene," Cecily ordered, mentally going through the same motions that she would on any other job. However, her voice cracked from time to time, and her hands continued to shake. Being shot at wasn't something that happened to forensic techs--they were isolated from the messiness of crime. They were brought evidence and analyzed it, never truly risking their lives. If crime was a chemical reaction, they were the spectator ions: present, but never actually involved.
Her phone buzzed, as the terrified junior members sealed off Walace's office, and frantically began trying to call him. One of them even suggested checking his snapchat, to figure out where he was based off of his story.
Cecily simply stared at them, hoping desperately that they were joking.
"You keep trying to call him, I've got to take this," Cecily replied, walking out of sight of the younger members. Her hands shook as she slid her finger right across the screen, accepting the call. It was from Riley. Before she did so, however, she noticed that she had one unread voicemail.
"Hello?" Cecily answered, attempting to sound fine, but her voice betrayed her once more.
"Cecily! I just got your text, is everything alright?"
Cecily paused for a moment, pondering how to respond to that question. "Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I'll call you back later," Cecily apologized, glancing as a body was brought in for processing. "I've got to deal with a corpse."
She hanged up before Riley could say much, and walked over to the paramedics. All corpses looked the same at first, as no matter the wealth or status, they were brought in with the same body bags. In a way, it was the only time anyone could truly be equal. Without any sort of ceremony, the paramedics dropped the file on top, as well as the relevant evidence.
"Seems your neighborhood is popular."
"I'm sorry?" Cecily asked, picking up the file. She opened it up, only to be greeted with the face of Lyle Marlestone. She hardly knew the bloke, but she had seen him around the court house, on the few occasions she was required to give expert testimony on the forensics used in the investigation. She glanced up at the paramedics, before down at the file once more.
"I work forensics, I'm not a medical examiner or a coroner," Cecily explained awkwardly. "But...Yeah, I'll go put these things away."
She signed off on the chain of custody forms, and took the papers with her. Delicately pulling on the gurney, she brought Lyle's body to storage, sliding him inside a vacant slot. She marked it with his name, and glanced around, before sealing the area shut. Next, she went to the evidence locker, and filled the rest of the evidence away. All of this she did with her mind spinning faster and faster, and her earlier fear returning to her, despite never truly leaving.
Someone was picking off, one by one, the residents of Boston Heights. It was too odd to be suicides. She pulled the card from the terrifying Mexican out of her pocket, turning it over as she thought. She pulled out her phone, ready to dial the number, before remembering the voicemail.
"Miss Ashworth, this is Caesar. Por favor come and meet with me when you receive this. Need your help with something. You know where I'll be."
Cecily gulped. Maybe Caesar had been the one to put the hit on her, and the invitation was all a trick in order for her to be finished off. It'd be the perfect coverup, a security company. But...It wouldn't make sense, then, for them to prevent the media from trashing the crime scene. Murderers didn't try to preserve evidence. Cecily relaxed a bit. As soon as Gregory showed up and investigated the break-in, she'd find a way to slip off, and visit Caesar.
She figured she could always claim to be shaken up after the attack--and it wasn't a lie, either.
Vivian Adder
Location: Police Station
Interacting With: Zachary @BlueSky44
Interacting With: Zachary @BlueSky44
Vivian skimmed through the bundle of cash, mentally counting it all. Satisified, Vivian pocketed it, before smirking at the sheriff. The sheriff had lived in Altsoba longer than she had, so naturally, she knew everything about him. She had poured over files after files, learning more and more about the man behind the disgustingly standard uniform.
She had laughed, reading about the deaths of his family. It was fitting.
"Got anything juicy for me, sheriff?" Vivian teased, batting her eyelashes. "I'd love to please you..."
One of the cops, a newbie, brushed by Vivian on his way out. She rolled her eyes at him, and scratched at her arm. Smiling up at the sheriff, she hardly noticed as strange burns and boils appeared on her skin, and somehow without her noticing, her heart began to accelerate. Vivian was entirely disconnected from her body--her meat suit, as she called it.
"Sheriff, something the matter?" Vivian asked, walking her fingers up his chest. "You can trust me, Zachary... I'd never lie to you."
Vivian grinned, as the burn marks appeared on her face, covering it down the center. Her eyes flashed a solid black, before returning to normal. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for her skin.
Reverend Adder
Location: Number 5 Maple Road
Interacting With: Something That Goes Bump in the Night
Interacting With: Something That Goes Bump in the Night
The Reverend bowed his head once more, reciting the Lord's Prayer. In times of need, he often would run through the scripture, attempting to find further meaning from the words. However, once something is repeated often enough, its purpose and meaning are forever loss. This was the case for the Reverend. No longer could he understand or appreciate those words more than a primary school student could appreciate the Pledge of Allegiance.
He was merely going through the motions of seeking salvation. He and Donne would have been kindred spirits, certainly.
A soft crash broke the Reverend from his thoughts. "Vivian, sweetheart?" he called out, glancing around uncertainly. As far as he was aware, Vivian had left, and never would have come back so soon. She hated the place.
The crash sounded again.
He stood to his full height, slowly walking towards the garage. The sounds grew louder and louder, the intensity doubling with each step he took. The Reverend sweated nervously, opening the door to the laundry, stepping through, and then entering the garage. The lights were off. He flicked them on, and glanced around, seeing no signs of anyone.
There was simply his car.
"Timothy 4:13 - Until I come, give attention to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation and teaching," the Reverend whispered. "Focus on saving those souls."
Leaving the garage, he couldn't help but eye his car, as if at any moment, it may roar to life and attack. He uneasily shut the door behind him, very certain that something sinister was taking place in his house, if not in the entire town. He'd have to deal with it later, with the Town Meeting approaching rapidly.
He'd have to figure out something.
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