@Holy SoldierGreetings, Sir Soldier sir! I was wondering if it would be possible for me to be signed up on the waiting-list? I've been noticing this RP a few times before, but didn't get time until now to actually check it out.
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Looking for myself
STATUS: Alternatively - and now, hear me out - one could avoid looking up photos of such eldritch horrors ... maybe? 9 mos ago- Last Seen: 9 mos ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1888 (0.42 / day)
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- ONL 12 yrs ago
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9 mos ago
Current
Alternatively - and now, hear me out - one could avoid looking up photos of such eldritch horrors ... maybe?
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10 mos ago
Back for my bi-yearly visit. Now where did I leave that thingy-ma-jig? Anyone seen that mish-masher? I think it looks like motivation or something!
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3 yrs ago
I now identify as a Master Procrastinator. Thank you all, and good night.
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3 yrs ago
New medical term: Dizzy mummy (condition of patient when world is spinning and only treatment is confinement to bed). I hate being sick...
3 yrs ago
@Vampiretwilight: Funny indeed. Now to make it into a roleplay here...let the madness and sassy Narrator commence.
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Bio
-The bio will be added once the profile user can be bothered to finish it. Right now he's probably busy doing nothing and stressed about more. Please come back later. Have a nice day.
Most Recent Posts
@KelewenThat's quite alright, we're still here so ^^ Looking forward to what the prisoner will have to say.
"I do."
Thaliar had gone silent after his comment about Burren and the raven. It might have been a few minutes, hours and days, Thaliar couldn't tell. He had closed his eyes, blocked his surroundings from entering his senses so that he could meditate. It had been a while since Thaliar did it last, and the relative peaceful rest the elf got was a welcomed break from the intense last few days. To the others it must have looked like he was sleeping while sitting upright, or simply ignoring them.
But he wasn't just resting. He let his thoughts flow freely, back to a time where he had heard the name 'Burren' before. It was long ago, even longer than the mention of the Moss Witch from before, but it was hidden there somewhere...
It was much the same Kan said; it was an ancient temple of the old gods, with the crypts rumoured to host the undead and cannibals. But something stuck out to him. It was obscure, but it might have been something useful if it was what he really thought it could be. Thaliar opened his eyes suddenly, looking to somewhere behind the others.
"I think I've heard a story when I was young, long before any of you were born. Long before any of this. It too is about Burren, I remember now. A mysterious thief trying to sneak into the temple and take powerful, magical items with him. I don't know if I'm right, but doesn't 'The Raven' sound like a thief's name?" Thaliar asked the others, though his gaze was still locked on a figure amongst them. One they clearly hadn't payed too much attention too.
"I suggest we try to find out if there is a connection between the thief and 'The Raven'. But before that, perhaps we should ask our guest?"
Thaliar stood up from his spot and pointed at the sleeping figure with them; The prisoner.
The tavern had gotten more life than our earlier insight into the wooden building. Ragnar the Blind and Solvard had continued their conversation well into the hours of noon, in-between Solvard throwing out drunkards and selling food and drinks to actuall customers. Ragnar didn't mind, and let the barkeep do his job. He himself simply sat still and listened quietly to everything going on. He heard it all; the scratching of cutelry against wooden plates, conversation about everything and nothing, footsteps going through the front door.
He even heard the hooves outside, the door opening and the woman stepping through the door alongside a soldier. Ragnar leaned forward to Solvard and whispered to him. "We got company, friend. I'm afraid I'm correct about earlier."
The barkeep looked at the two newcomers entering through the door, and was about to call at them when he noticed what was odd about them; one was a soldier of Lord Octa, the other an elven woman. The elf carried a silver plate. This was all very strange. -"Can I help you?"
Thaliar had gone silent after his comment about Burren and the raven. It might have been a few minutes, hours and days, Thaliar couldn't tell. He had closed his eyes, blocked his surroundings from entering his senses so that he could meditate. It had been a while since Thaliar did it last, and the relative peaceful rest the elf got was a welcomed break from the intense last few days. To the others it must have looked like he was sleeping while sitting upright, or simply ignoring them.
But he wasn't just resting. He let his thoughts flow freely, back to a time where he had heard the name 'Burren' before. It was long ago, even longer than the mention of the Moss Witch from before, but it was hidden there somewhere...
It was much the same Kan said; it was an ancient temple of the old gods, with the crypts rumoured to host the undead and cannibals. But something stuck out to him. It was obscure, but it might have been something useful if it was what he really thought it could be. Thaliar opened his eyes suddenly, looking to somewhere behind the others.
"I think I've heard a story when I was young, long before any of you were born. Long before any of this. It too is about Burren, I remember now. A mysterious thief trying to sneak into the temple and take powerful, magical items with him. I don't know if I'm right, but doesn't 'The Raven' sound like a thief's name?" Thaliar asked the others, though his gaze was still locked on a figure amongst them. One they clearly hadn't payed too much attention too.
"I suggest we try to find out if there is a connection between the thief and 'The Raven'. But before that, perhaps we should ask our guest?"
Thaliar stood up from his spot and pointed at the sleeping figure with them; The prisoner.
The tavern had gotten more life than our earlier insight into the wooden building. Ragnar the Blind and Solvard had continued their conversation well into the hours of noon, in-between Solvard throwing out drunkards and selling food and drinks to actuall customers. Ragnar didn't mind, and let the barkeep do his job. He himself simply sat still and listened quietly to everything going on. He heard it all; the scratching of cutelry against wooden plates, conversation about everything and nothing, footsteps going through the front door.
He even heard the hooves outside, the door opening and the woman stepping through the door alongside a soldier. Ragnar leaned forward to Solvard and whispered to him. "We got company, friend. I'm afraid I'm correct about earlier."
The barkeep looked at the two newcomers entering through the door, and was about to call at them when he noticed what was odd about them; one was a soldier of Lord Octa, the other an elven woman. The elf carried a silver plate. This was all very strange. -"Can I help you?"
The village of Grayweald was far from a village you'd take notice of if you passed through. In truth, it was plain average, perhaps even dull; it had a town market; a cemetery beside the old stone temple in honour of Markisha, the Goddess of farming and fertility; a small barrack where the local 'militia', if you could even call them that, kept their weapons and practiced; a small river running straight through town; a bridge crossing said river and several other buildings.
Another such building was the tavern, "The Waterfront", a wooden building with two stories and only a handful more people inside. At this time and hour it wasn't normal to have more people, beside the town drunkards and early birds about to head out. The barkeep walked down from his quarters at the second floor, opened the shutters of a few windows and in the now lit room found several people sleeping in various spots around the room. A few slept on their table, their hands still cluthing a mug of unknown booze. The others lying aroundt he floor were much the same. But not the old man sitting at the counter.
-"Didn't expect you to be here this early, ol' Ragnar." The barkeep said casually to the grey-haired man, sitting in a straight position unlike the other heavy sleepers. The man called Ragnar smirked as he turned his head towards the barkeep.
"Couldn't sleep, so thought I'd get some early breakfast, Soldard."
-"Bad dreams? Guess that makes two of us. Hold your stomach for a little longer, I'll get something on the stove."
"Not dreams; visions. And that'd be nice."
-"Oh don't start with that again, Ragnar. Being you're old and bind doesn't make a wise prophet, just wise."
Ragnar, the blind, couldn't help but chuckle. "You might be right, but I know what I saw. If I'm not mistaken, we'll have company in Grayweald soon. Both welcomed and shunned."
-"Really Ragnar, really? That could mean anything; traders, soldiers, bandits, vermin and deer, or just the never-ending snow. Do you want breakfast or not?"
"Yes please, Solvard. I guess I'm just an old, blind man rambling, like always." Ragnar said in a jokingly manner, as if humoured by the stereotype he'd become. It fit into it somehow, all with his grey beard and hair, white blind eyes and the long staff leaning against the counter. Solvard the barkeep chuckled after a moment, he too humoured by it, before coming back from the stove where a simple breakfast was cooking.
-"You're wise, Ragnar. Old, sometimes overly cryptic in what you say, but still wise. Fitting your old name."
"Maybe, maybe not. But what's certain is that even old birds gets hungry during the morning. By the way, shouldn't you help poor Jorvi over there? He's been singing drinking songs in his sleep since I came in here, and not very good either."
Another such building was the tavern, "The Waterfront", a wooden building with two stories and only a handful more people inside. At this time and hour it wasn't normal to have more people, beside the town drunkards and early birds about to head out. The barkeep walked down from his quarters at the second floor, opened the shutters of a few windows and in the now lit room found several people sleeping in various spots around the room. A few slept on their table, their hands still cluthing a mug of unknown booze. The others lying aroundt he floor were much the same. But not the old man sitting at the counter.
-"Didn't expect you to be here this early, ol' Ragnar." The barkeep said casually to the grey-haired man, sitting in a straight position unlike the other heavy sleepers. The man called Ragnar smirked as he turned his head towards the barkeep.
"Couldn't sleep, so thought I'd get some early breakfast, Soldard."
-"Bad dreams? Guess that makes two of us. Hold your stomach for a little longer, I'll get something on the stove."
"Not dreams; visions. And that'd be nice."
-"Oh don't start with that again, Ragnar. Being you're old and bind doesn't make a wise prophet, just wise."
Ragnar, the blind, couldn't help but chuckle. "You might be right, but I know what I saw. If I'm not mistaken, we'll have company in Grayweald soon. Both welcomed and shunned."
-"Really Ragnar, really? That could mean anything; traders, soldiers, bandits, vermin and deer, or just the never-ending snow. Do you want breakfast or not?"
"Yes please, Solvard. I guess I'm just an old, blind man rambling, like always." Ragnar said in a jokingly manner, as if humoured by the stereotype he'd become. It fit into it somehow, all with his grey beard and hair, white blind eyes and the long staff leaning against the counter. Solvard the barkeep chuckled after a moment, he too humoured by it, before coming back from the stove where a simple breakfast was cooking.
-"You're wise, Ragnar. Old, sometimes overly cryptic in what you say, but still wise. Fitting your old name."
"Maybe, maybe not. But what's certain is that even old birds gets hungry during the morning. By the way, shouldn't you help poor Jorvi over there? He's been singing drinking songs in his sleep since I came in here, and not very good either."
Alexander Polawski
Location: North Of Newnan (Spring & St. Clair)
"It's okay...I've had worse..." Alexander's hand was clutching his head right where he had hit the hard, very hard steel interior of the tank. And it was true, he had felt worse thing to his head than that; explosions, burst ear-drums, unknown jungle diseases. That however didn't mean this incident didn't hurt like hell, and so the old man had to take a deep breath while the tank jerked into action.
Again it was a good question that Thalia raised as to why he was doing this for them. And he didn't have a very good answer beside what had already convinced him to join them inside the bucket of bolts, which he frankly just felt were cheesy; especially her calling him 'Mugs'. And then he heard her say something he hadn't expected; that they should simply leave her there if things went south, both Lola and him. So it was going to be real personal after all.
"I know it's no joke. It's the right thing to do, and I owe you both any support I can give." Alexander noted back to Thalia, before she lowered herself back in the tank's interior. He wanted to say something else, something witty and uplifting, like one did before heading out into battle. But nothing presented itself to him, and perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps he just needed to prove that he could be serious, useful and not just an old senile grandpa.
The eye-gazing didn't go unnoticed by Julian either, who found it increasingly uncomfortable to have the eyes of the shop-keeper and his wife on him. More so considering he knew them personaly, Mr. and Mrs. Rook, who probably would let his parents know of the little scene unfolding itself.
Julian couldn't help but be impressed by the Dakota woman. Or it could have been that he was still figuring out how to get her to actually help him, and utterly failing. Either way, the way she stood up to him was something he had seen in few women around those parts. They'd might not actually help you or do what you ask of them, but at least they would hear you out. The Dakota however, she wasn't having it.
Again she spoke, and again it was something about her voice that was warm and excotic. What she said however, was far from being warm and what Julian later could call angel-like. Whatever it was Julian had said, she wasn't impressed by it. In fact, her words were a mix of insults and proud rejection, whatever you'd call it.
Lakota, not Dakota as Julian had called her. That was the first thing she shot back at him with, clearly insulted by what he had said. And to be frank, that might actually have been right, Julian got all the different tribes of Indians mixed up. So far, he wasn't off to a good start. And she only continued on talking him down, even if she was a few inches shorter than him. Even if she was just an Indian, he felt embarresed.
And yet, while she spoke down to him, he had to acknowledge one thing about her; her stunbornness and pride only gave her already good looks more depths, so to speak. He had seen Indians before, but he had to admit that her long, dark hair and red-ish skin was for a lack of better words, 'Pretty'. Julian didn't know all to many words to describe that, but it was enough.
"What, no. No!" Julian's cheeks had turned a darker shade of pink after what the Dakota...Lakota said. Regardless of what she could possible suspect of him, having his way with her like that had never crossed his mind. It just felt wrong, strange and wrong when she said it, especially when he had never actually done 'that'. Was that she thought the white man wanted? "That's not what I meant, Da...Lakota. I need help to find our stolen horses, nothing else!"
The pinkish color soon faded away from Julian's cheeks as he focused on what he actually wanted from her. "I don't know if you've heard, but half the town's horses was stolen last night. I intend to do something about that, but I need help. And you need your brother for protection, I assume, so don't we help each other out?"
Julian couldn't help but be impressed by the Dakota woman. Or it could have been that he was still figuring out how to get her to actually help him, and utterly failing. Either way, the way she stood up to him was something he had seen in few women around those parts. They'd might not actually help you or do what you ask of them, but at least they would hear you out. The Dakota however, she wasn't having it.
Again she spoke, and again it was something about her voice that was warm and excotic. What she said however, was far from being warm and what Julian later could call angel-like. Whatever it was Julian had said, she wasn't impressed by it. In fact, her words were a mix of insults and proud rejection, whatever you'd call it.
Lakota, not Dakota as Julian had called her. That was the first thing she shot back at him with, clearly insulted by what he had said. And to be frank, that might actually have been right, Julian got all the different tribes of Indians mixed up. So far, he wasn't off to a good start. And she only continued on talking him down, even if she was a few inches shorter than him. Even if she was just an Indian, he felt embarresed.
And yet, while she spoke down to him, he had to acknowledge one thing about her; her stunbornness and pride only gave her already good looks more depths, so to speak. He had seen Indians before, but he had to admit that her long, dark hair and red-ish skin was for a lack of better words, 'Pretty'. Julian didn't know all to many words to describe that, but it was enough.
"What, no. No!" Julian's cheeks had turned a darker shade of pink after what the Dakota...Lakota said. Regardless of what she could possible suspect of him, having his way with her like that had never crossed his mind. It just felt wrong, strange and wrong when she said it, especially when he had never actually done 'that'. Was that she thought the white man wanted? "That's not what I meant, Da...Lakota. I need help to find our stolen horses, nothing else!"
The pinkish color soon faded away from Julian's cheeks as he focused on what he actually wanted from her. "I don't know if you've heard, but half the town's horses was stolen last night. I intend to do something about that, but I need help. And you need your brother for protection, I assume, so don't we help each other out?"
@LovelyAnastasiaHahaha, good thinking! Looking forward to the moment where she'll call him out on it!
...which is now, since you posted. Brilliant ^^
...which is now, since you posted. Brilliant ^^
It must have been an interesting sight to behold to say the least, watching the short cowboy trying to get the even shorter Indian's attention right there in the General Store. For the Indian woman didn't budge an inch in face of Julian, simply wishing to be let pass and out. Julian was taken back. A combination of her outright refusal to speak with him and her voice, made the Kirkland boy stand in front of the Lakota woman, speechless for a moment. For her voice he had never heard before, and it was like nothing else he had heard either.
It must also have been embarresing for Julian, because he felt the silence get to him after that moment simply standing there. He rubbed his empty hand over his mouth, as if trying to clear the obstacle seemingly preventing him from speaking. His green eyes parted ways with the Indian's briefly, before locking onto them again. "And I said I needed to speak with you...lady."
Julian knew that this Indian usually came into town with another, her brother. So it was during the moment that their eyes didn't meet that he realized he wasn't there with her. That was not what he had planned. Not that he had that much of a plan as a whole, but he had had the start of it. But now it was only her, and her brother was...
Then it hit him. That was probably why she didn't want to speak with him; She was looking for her brother. Julian could have been wrong, but the thought stuck with him then. From what he had heard, the Indian spent most of his time in town drinking away all of his earnings, not unlike many other of his kin these days. Where he was then and there, he didn't know, but he had an educated guess.
"Okay, just hear me out, Dakota. You are looking for your brother? Because since he ain't here with you, I assume you don't know where he is. I might do, but I need your help first." Julian's voice was just as determined as the woman's composure, though it was a far fetch to say it came natural to him. Like his plan for recovering their horses, he took it one step at the time, making it up as required.
"Help me, I'll be out of your way and show you were he is."
It must also have been embarresing for Julian, because he felt the silence get to him after that moment simply standing there. He rubbed his empty hand over his mouth, as if trying to clear the obstacle seemingly preventing him from speaking. His green eyes parted ways with the Indian's briefly, before locking onto them again. "And I said I needed to speak with you...lady."
Julian knew that this Indian usually came into town with another, her brother. So it was during the moment that their eyes didn't meet that he realized he wasn't there with her. That was not what he had planned. Not that he had that much of a plan as a whole, but he had had the start of it. But now it was only her, and her brother was...
Then it hit him. That was probably why she didn't want to speak with him; She was looking for her brother. Julian could have been wrong, but the thought stuck with him then. From what he had heard, the Indian spent most of his time in town drinking away all of his earnings, not unlike many other of his kin these days. Where he was then and there, he didn't know, but he had an educated guess.
"Okay, just hear me out, Dakota. You are looking for your brother? Because since he ain't here with you, I assume you don't know where he is. I might do, but I need your help first." Julian's voice was just as determined as the woman's composure, though it was a far fetch to say it came natural to him. Like his plan for recovering their horses, he took it one step at the time, making it up as required.
"Help me, I'll be out of your way and show you were he is."
@LovelyAnastasiaWhy on Earth did I call her Dakota, when I know she's a Lakota? Oh geeze, I'm ashamed o.o'
Haakon J. Elvsgaard
Location:The street of Cairo, headed for the Barracks
Haakon was taken back by the over-the-top positivety that emmited from the Corpral and his cheery reply to him. It didn't help with the sheer amount of words that was projected from his mouth, some of which flew straight over Haakon's tired head. But Haakon wasn't in a mood, nor state to ask for clarification, and for now silently got into the car. Finally, a good seat to rest his sorry ass for once.
But as the car started moving, the Corporal seemed overly curious as to their methods of interrogation; ways that Haakon in all his career had yet to hear about. And of course he was kind enough to drop a little reminder that they had 'British friends' in town. "That's one way of putting it, Corporal. But no, they just asked us a series of questions about last night's events, so I hope that we'll never have to set our foot inside that establishment again." Haakon said with a tired voice to the Corporal, not wanting to talk too much about it. In hopes of not having to continue the conversation, he tried to look out the window at the passing scenery.
Cairo appeared more or the less the same as Haakon had experienced it by now; crowded and boiling hot. The car did move, albit sometimes with a few stops here and there, including the circumnavigating of a cart in the road. What had happened to it? The natural curiosity in Haakon wanted to know, though he figured it was nothing newsworthy. Not the cats, nor the walked vase of plants either...
"Wait, what? Jo, isn't that the museum? What on Earth is that man carrying so many flowers there?"
Mahendra Huq Zalil
Location:The Egyptian Museum
Soon Mahendra was there; standing in front of the Egyptian Museum, perhaps the finest collection of knowledge in Egypt beside the Great Pyramids themselves. And if it was meant to be, hopefully it could become Mahendra's workplace for the unforseen future. The Bengali could only hope, as he pulled out his wallet and looked a small piece of paper stating his education and profession.
That was if he could get past the vast amount of cats that seemed to have taken up position around the Museum. "That's...odd..." Mahendra said to himself, trying his best to make his way past and over several cats. But for one cat, he stopped. He bent down and gently petted the cat, smiling. "If you are an omen, little cat, I hope it is a good one. Wish me luck, little protector of Egypt, please?" It might have seen odd for the foreign man to speak so serious to a simple cat, but Mahendra knew the cat's position in Egypt; what was the worse that could happen to him?
Stepping over a few more cats on his way, Mahendra finally walked into the Museum. Standing at the desk in what Mahendra assumed was the reception, he saw a man be rather amused by what he could see were walking flowers. No wait, a man carrying a vase of flowers, he was mistaken. An odd sight indead, but that was none of Mahendra's business. Taking off his hat and giving an audible cough, he tried to get the desk man's attention. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding, Sir, but I'd like to apply for the position of 'Junior Archeologist'." Mahendra said to him, feeling the suspense growing within him.
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